#also i will NEVER get over that campfire scene

[dacutiehart]

[eufezco]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER༄

the tva erased you from your timeline when logan died, you've been living in the void since then.

angst + fluff. no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!)

you couldn't take your eyes off them.

you were at the table sitting next to logan, on his other side was laura. he held wade's dog while she played with it and you couldn't take your eyes off them. you couldn't believe it. you had to pinch yourself a few times to confirm that you weren't dreaming.

you thought you'd never see a scene like that ever again. the two of them together. how many times you had looked at the sky and cursed the universe for not giving the three of you more time?

when your logan died, the time variance authority decided that the sacred timeline didn't need you anymore so they erased you and sent you to the void. you preferred it that way, you didn't want to live in a timeline in which he was gone but you were also angry because they didn't have to drag little laura to that place with you.

you didn't remember how much time you spent in the void but seeing how laura had grown into a woman, you guessed that it had been a long time since you left your timeline.

when you got to that place, she was just a child. scared, angry, who had just lost the most important person in her life. and you were just the same, except that you were not a child and you had to take care of both of you. no matter how much you wanted to die, you had to stay alive for laura. but also for logan, for the way you both cried and held his bloody hands while he died and for not letting her be what they made her for.

and no matter how strong your mutations were, you didn't know how long you would have lasted there if it hadn't been for elektra, johnny, blade, and gambit. they found you when you were escaping from alioth and let you into their hideout. they explained to you how things worked there and eventually, they allowed you to stay with them.

until one day you walked into that same hiding place, and there he was, drinking gambit's alcohol and wearing a yellow spandex suit. you felt your heart beating so hard that it seemed to be fighting to get out and reach him. you brought a hand to your chest to feel it. it had gone so long without beating that way that sometimes you thought you left it buried with him in your timeline.

logan also felt his heartbeat accelerate but he quickly took his eyes off of you and drank a long sip from the bottle. he wasn't alone, a deadpool was with him, you recognized the suit, they were quite popular in the void. he shook his hands and gave little jumps of excitement. you looked at him confused, did you know each other?

—of course, you are here! there's no you without logan and there's no logan without you! do you know how hard it's been to find a proper wolverine? there are so many fucking timelines without one because you died! —deadpool exclaimed when he saw you. —and this one is not even a proper wolverine! you know they call him the worst logan? and he won't tell me why they call him that, can you believe it?—deadpool acted offended, you didn't know what to say. —wait... —he turned to look at logan. —was there a she in your timeline? i didn't get to meet her, they're usually nicer than you.

logan ignored the question and simply drank from the bottle again as he stormed out of your hideout.

he avoided you as much as he could. he did not look you in the eyes, he did not address you when he spoke. how could he? the last time logan saw you, your lifeless body was piled up next to scott's. shame consumed him even at the thought of just approaching you. his hands trembled, a knot formed in his stomach, his pulse quickened.

you came over to talk to him that same night.

logan was sitting in front of the campfire, alone, with a bottle of liquor in his hand. how many had he drunk? he saw you approaching and tried to convince you that he wanted to be alone but you still sat next to him.

—what was i like?

logan took a long sip of alcohol when you asked. he said nothing, just stared into the fire, so you decided to take the turn. —you were grumpy, i guess that doesn't change in any of your variants, and you wouldn't have worn that yellow spandex suit in a thousand years.

he looked at you with a frown when you said that. the same way your logan would have looked at you. you continued talking. —you were stubborn, never asked for help, and you were tired all the fucking time because you worked your ass off to get us out of the shitty place we were living in.

he stared at you in silence while you talked. the person you were describing definitely sounded like a version of him.

—you always said that i didn't need to wait up for you but i know you liked it when you came home late at night and i was there and i know you hated the way i folded your shirts but you never said anything because you knew i didn't know how to do it any other way.

you felt a lump forming in your throat. you turned your head, hiding your face from logan so he couldn't see how you used your thumb to wipe away the tear rolling down your cheek. —but you were so brave, and caring, and i loved you with all my heart. you always looked after me even when you were fucking dying with each passing day.

by the tone in your voice and how well you remembered every detail, he guessed that your logan was suddenly taken away from you. oh, he knew that feeling so well.

you were about to get up and leave, you didn't want to bother him anymore and you had already overshared enough with him, when all of a sudden, he started talking.

—you were the sweetest. fuck, i never knew why you were with me. i always thought you deserved better, but there was no way to get you off my ass —. he closed his eyes and shook his head. —and i tried, i tried to push you away and get you to find a guy who deserved you, but there was no way. and i didn't really want you to do it because i was so fucking in love with you.

logan drank from the bottle, trying to let the alcohol sliding down his throat drag with it the tears forming in his eyes. —you liked to read in the garden of the mansion on sunny days and when it rained you'd open my bedroom window to listen to the rain and get into my bed while i was sleeping so i could keep you warm.

there was silence as logan took another sip, almost finishing all the alcohol. —and i left you to fucking die.

the worst logan. at that moment you understood why he was called that, you didn't him to explain it. wade said that in all the timelines he had visited, there was no you without logan and there was no logan without you.

however, in his timeline there was logan but there wasn't you.

he was called the worst logan because he was doomed to live in his timeline without you.

you grabbed the bottle from his hands and drank the alcohol left. —yeah, i couldn't save you either.

you kept each other company that night. most of the time in silence, watching the fire consume the wood, other times you commented on the situation, you talked about cassandra nova, the people you had met there in the void, he even asked you about laura. and at the end of the night, you were sitting next to him with your head resting on his shoulder and him watching you sleep peacefully.

the next morning you headed off to fight cassandra nova. you knew that logan would end up joining you, it was in his nature.

you and laura managed to remove the helmet from juggernaut's head and you ran to give it to wade. when cassandra opened the portal using strange's ring you were there, you could've left with wade and logan, but you couldn't leave laura there. cassandra's allies had pulled themselves together and she was struggling to fight back.

before you went to help her and logan jumped into the portal, he wrapped one of his big arms around your waist and pulled you into a kiss. you rested your hands against his chest and closed your eyes, enjoying those few seconds of your lips pressed together.

—oh, fuck. seriously now? i know how important fan service is for marvel but we literally have a chance to get the fuck out of here—. wade complained.

—i'll get you out. you and the kid, i promise i won't leave you here —. he said as he started walking backward towards the portal. you nodded, if there was one thing you were sure of, it was that no wolverine in the multiverse would break a promise.

and just as you were right about all wolverines being grumpy, you were right about that too. agents from the time variance authority went into the void to get you and laura that same day and now you were having dinner with him, laura, wade, and his family.

you couldn't take your eyes off him.

he had the same look in his eyes. that little sparkle in his deep brown eyes. he was happy, smiling as he played with the dog and laura, calm knowing that you were by his side. you looked away from him when he caught you staring.

—what is it?

you shook your head and pressed your lips together, showing him a little smile. —nothing.

—come on, spit it out.

—it's just... i feel i could fall in love with every version of you.

logan nodded slowly, his eyes were now fixed on yours. —i've had the same feeling.

wade, who was distracted with vanessa but not enough to not be paying attention to your conversation, decided to intervene. —oh honey, wait until you meet the crucified one. you will want to take that back.

you and logan looked at each other confused.

[milksnake-tea]

━━ star-shaped .

War was never pretty. Death comes for both enemy and ally, and even as a healer, you cannot save everyone. Wearied by the war that seems to drag on for years, with no victory in sight, you join Jiaoqiu at the campfire for a rare moment of peace.

jiaoqiu x gn!reader

contains: based on leaks abt jiaoqiu's character stories !! but honestly its kinda implied in the quest but idk. has death, war, depictions of injuries and diseases, things are rough, can be read as platonic or romantic !!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love this man and his potential because goddamn war stories??? in my hsr??? sign me UP. also this was inspired by The Things They Carried by Tim Burton that i was forced to read in highschool. i loved the soldier death scene in that book so YEAH

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven @camellia-rabbit , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace

The man you killed had two eyes; one was closed, and the other a star-shaped hole.

You wake when the sky is still dark and the sun bathes the other side of the planet. Harsh winds beat unrelentlessly at the tent’s folds, and hail pelts at the sturdy fabric.

Some of your comrades, fellow healers, sleep soundly as they can on the battlefield, while others work tirelessly in the makeshift hospital next tent over, keeping an eye on injured and diseased soldiers’ conditions.

Fire crackles outside. The sound is sharp, yet barely audible over the snow storm.

With a sigh, you pull your sheets off of you and as quietly as possible, make your way outside the tent. You aren’t going to get much sleep anyway - you might as well do something useful.

The man you killed resurfaces in your mind. He had two eyes - one closed, the other a star-shaped hole.

You pull your fur-lined coat closer around you as you step out into the camp. Snow crunches under your boots and you have to hold your hood in place to shield yourself from the hail.

To say that this planet is freezing would be an understatement. Here, the cold chilled you from your bones to your skin, seeping into your veins and leaving icicles in its wake. Frostbite was an everyday occurrence here; you’ve had to amputate more toes and fingers than ever in your life.

A silhouette sits before the fire, their back turned to you. As you get closer, you make out tall, Foxian ears and the same winter coat you’re currently wearing.

“Jiao?” you wrinkle your nose as you near, suddenly slammed with the strong scent of chili. Your comrade acknowledges you with a brief flick of the ears, but nothing more.

You don’t blame him. This war has been a harsh one, with less soldiers returning to camp every time they’re sent out. Unknown territory and harsh weather conditions made the battles long and exhausting, and healers could only do so much.

Not to mention, time passed so quickly yet so slowly here. You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve been stationed, but it feels like several lifetimes.

Everyone is tired. You can see it in the hollowed cheeks, the eyes that have grown numb to death, and the despondent numbness that has overtaken the camp. They no longer cared who won or who lost. All they wanted was to return home in one piece.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed, and the other was a star-shaped hole.

You sit down next to Jiaoqiu on the log. The Foxian makes no move to push you off, only shifting to the side to help make room for you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you stare blankly at the drifting embers that dance in the air.

Jiaoqiu absentmindedly stirs at his soup. It boils in a small pot just above the fire, the thin liquid a red so bright it’d be threatening… if you had the energy to be threatened.

“It’s late,” you say into the crisp silence. “You should get some sleep before the sun rises. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Even as the words leave your mouth, you know it’s pointless. In war, sleep is something you have to force your body into. You have to lie down in the tents, look up at the fabric sky and listen to the hustle and bustle outside as soldiers are carried in and out, and close your eyes to the screams as yet another frostbitten knight has their arm cut off. You have to put yourself first, even for that small second, and allow yourself rest while your comrades fight on the front lines.

Sleep is a luxury that no one can afford. It is an escape. It is shameful.

And from the looks of Jiaoqiu’s darkened eye bags and mindless stirring, it’s a sin he won’t be partaking in tonight.

And neither will you.

Your gaze falls to the small bag of spices lying next to Jiaoqiu on the long. You can see peppercorns, cloves, fennel, cinnamon, and… star anise.

You look away.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was closed.

“How are you faring?” Jiaoqiu finally speaks. He doesn’t look at you and keeps his eyes on the flame.

Another gust of wind runs through you.

“As well as anyone else is, I suppose.”

Jiaoqiu swirls the soup with one hand. A bubble bursts and sprays the snow in little sizzling red freckles.

“How about you?” you ask.

The snow has already covered the soup’s spill by the time Jiaoqiu replies.

“As well as one can be,” he mutters. His hands, gloved with thick leather, clench once before relaxing.

A hollow chuckle leaves you. You sigh, kicking your legs out onto the snow and leaning back on the log. You look to the sky, to the cryptically beautiful cosmos. Blues, purples, and reds merge together like watercolor clouds above you, and small, white stars bejewel them.

Stars… Your gaze becomes lidded.

The man you killed had two eyes. One was a star-shaped hole.

“Do you think that man had a family?”

If Jiaoqiu was surprised at all by your question, he didn’t show it.

“Does it matter?” He takes a small taste of his soup. Despite it practically glowing in red, he doesn’t seem satisfied. “He was the enemy, need I remind you.”

You close your eyes briefly. “But I’m a healer.”

“You are.” Jiaoqiu opens his pouch and dumps in the rest of his chili rations - what for, you don’t know nor do you care to know. “You are also a soldier of the Xianzhou Yaoqing military. War always ends up in casualties, you know this. So did the soldier.”

There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes you wonder if he was talking to himself as well as to you. Your eyes soften.

“You did what you could, Jiao,” you offer. You want to put your hand on his shoulder, but you aren’t sure if that is appropriate, given the circumstances. “What happens outside the camp is beyond our control.”

Jiaoqiu sighs. His hand tightens around the ladle.

“Then what’s the point?” he whispers. His brows furrow, and his eyes open - a gem of amber reflecting years worth of grief and hopelessness. “What purpose do I have as a healer if I cannot stop my patients from hurtling towards their deaths?”

He turns to you, searching your face for any sort of answer that could satisfy him, that could reassure him that there was meaning, there was a point, that all of those bandages and surgeries and amputations weren’t for naught.

But you cannot answer him, for it is a question that no healer knows the answer to.

“You gave them another chance at life,” you say softly, unconvincingly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Even if that life is destined to end regardless of what I do?”

Dead eyes meet dull ones.

“What happens outside the camp is beyond our control,” you repeat blankly.

The man you killed had two eyes.

Jiaoqiu searches your gaze once more, before ultimately giving up. The amber of his eyes close, and he returns to the cauldron.

In a feeble attempt to console him, you go against your earlier thoughts and rest a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. But with the roughness of your gloves and the cold limiting the dexterity of your hands, it isn’t much - but it’s enough.

Jiaoqiu glances at your hand, then back at the cauldron.

“Do you feel bad?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard by the question, but you settle down soon enough.

“No,” you say after a brief pause. “He would’ve killed us if I hadn’t killed him.”

You lean forward, resting your head in your palm as you watch the flames swallow up what little tinder the others managed to collect.

“I’m just glad to be alive.” You don’t sound like you believe it.

Jiaoqiu’s ear flicks. You hear him stand up and scoop some of the soup up into his ladle, and dash out his tongue to taste it. His tail swishes, and his eyes widen momentarily, amber flashing like lightning.

A smile, a weary, tired, but grateful smile, slips onto his lips.

He turns to you, vitality returned, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Try this,” he says, holding the ladle out towards you. 

You eye it warily. The liquid drips down the sides of the ladle and drops down onto the snow below, sizzling the second red touches white. You didn’t think it was possible for the soup to get even redder, but Jiaoqiu somehow did it.

“I won’t die if I eat it, right?” you try to joke. Jiaoqiu huffs, his breath steaming in the air.

“You doubt my cooking capabilities?”

You shake your head. “No, but whatever you have in there doesn’t exactly look… edible.”

And yet you’re already leaning forward to taste his concoction. Jiaoqiu carefully holds the ladle still as you take a sip.

Instantly your senses are flooded with pure, unyielding heat. Fire blazes on your tongue, searing your throat and bringing tears to your eyes. Your stomach burns, and for the first time since you’ve come to this planet, you stop shivering.

It’s painful.

It’s exhilarating.

“It’s delicious,” you praise despite the coughs that wreck your being. “Although… did you have to add so much chili?”

Jiaoqiu hums out a laugh. “But that’s what makes it special.”

You don’t bother denying it. Instead, you laugh alongside him, eyes crinkling with joy instead of pain after years of constant war.

You’ll have to return to the war eventually. The sun is already beginning to rise, and soon the soldiers will be awakened to go out into battle once more. You’ll have to take over for your comrades who had spent the night in the hospital.

But you don’t have to do it just yet.

For now, you just want to enjoy this moment, this second of normalcy and peace in the battlefield.

The man you killed had two eyes.

One was closed.

The other was a star-shaped hole.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[physalian]

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

[soleilars]

NOW I WAKE UP IN THE NIGHT TO WATCH YOU BREATHE

summary: you spent the night with your loving boyfriend

pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings: kissing, percy hating on hayes campbell

a/n: oh is this one of my favorite book boyfriend?? yes it is

the bests days at camp were the ones when you would spend your evenings at cabin 3 instead of going to the campfire. percy would smile the whole time you were at his cabin, he really just couldn’t stop his lips from turning upwards. this boy is so clingy bc the moment the door was closed he was all over you

who could blame him tho? he saw the opportunity and jumped straight at it. as he should

so when you mentioned over lunch you would skip campfire he was glowing

like, people could feel it. he was under girlfriend air effect even before spending the night with you. he’s just 😆😆😆😆 all day long. I swear

he rushed to the door when he heard your footsteps getting closer and fully pulled you inside (it didn’t hurt tho he just was so excited)

like I said, all over you

my man reclaims the lip gloss you’re wearing as his from the insane amount of it ending up on his lips instead of yours

you two have basically girls night, the only difference is that in between all the activities you guys take a break to make out

percy is the best person ever to gossip with I just know

“and then she said she just wanted to get back at him ‘cause she was jealous of him with a girl from her class!”

“bullshit, she broke up with him ‘cause she liked another guy this can’t be possible.”

“shit, it is”

“and he got back together with her!!!!!”

“nah I can’t do this anymore ma boy just got played at and didn’t even cared”

i feel like he enjoys horror movies bc somehow he finds them funny

if you don’t like watching them he’ll never force you but if you do it will be the non-scary shit ever

like in the scene character one runs from character two (aka movies bad guy) and ends up tripping

this man would start laughing so loud you had to pause the movie

would recreate the scene so you could see from his pov

he was right tbh it was indeed funny without the scary movie background

watched the idea of you with you

I feel like he hated nicholas galitzine in this movie

“harry styles would never!!!!!”

“he actually was dating olivia wilde not to long ago”

“…”

“10 years older than him?”

“oh”

this one time you told him one of you favourite movies was ttihay he acted nonchalant but inside he was totally thinking about how to convince you to dress up as patrick and kat for halloween

spoiler alert: you two did it

anyway

you let you do his skincare routine while he talked about everything and anything honestly. it could be about his day, school, his family, the fact he feels like so many people he cared about died because of him and is absolutely terrified of losing you, the new show he’s watching, et cetera

would encourage you to do the same

he is your number one listener but also your number one yapper

he loves being the little spoon

it just makes him feel so loved🥹🥹

would never reject holding you in any way so big spoon is also perfectly fine

taints your face with kisses until both of you fall asleep

everyone knows he drools in his sleep so he would do his best to try not to

he ends up failing but you don’t care at all

sucker for waking up before you and watching you with that lovestruck look in his eyes

he feels so glad he’s actually dating you he’s kinda off relieved that he’s the one who has you. no one else

disclaimer: pls do not ever cheat on this man he would be absolutely and utterly destroyed

anyway, that was it

[bakuliwrites]

MC Falling Asleep on M6's Lap (Baewatch)

It's been a hot minute since I posted anything and, unfortunately, I don't have the brain power to do any new content. But I figured I would post a headcanon from my old blog. Someone had requested this a long time ago and I loved writing it. The idea was so cute! I love the Baewatch tale and the bonfire scene at the end is so fun. So, here you go! Also, updated my banners just to try out something new :)

Asra is more than prepared for you to fall asleep on his lap. In fact, he can sense your exhaustion before even you can. He gives you a knowing smirk at your first yawn, leans back where he’s seated in the sand, and offers up his lap for you to lay your head in.

“I’m not sleepy,” you insist, crossing your arms indignantly. But his lap looks pretty inviting. Within minutes, you’re conked out, head cradled by Asra’s legs. He tenderly runs his fingers through your hair, smiling softly down at your slumbering form.

When it’s time to leave, he gently rouses you from your sleep. “MC,” he whispers, carefully shifting you in his lap, “It’s time to go.” Groggily, you rise. Hand in hand, you and Asra walk the length of the beach, back to your room, where you get some much needed rest, snuggled up in his arms <3

You’re already resting your head on Nadia’s lap when you feel the first twinge of exhaustion. Your eyes start to droop, though you try desperately to keep them open. You want to watch Julian’s magical fire display, but you’re just so tired.

Nadia discovers you’re asleep when she looks down to see if you’re enjoying yourself. She smiles to herself, moving a strand of your hair aside that’s fallen in front of your eyes. She thinks you look positively adorable. So adorable, in fact, she feels suddenly compelled to pinch your cheeks (but refrains, not wanting to rudely awaken you).

When it’s time to go, Nadia lays a soft kiss on your forehead and whispers your name. She guides you back to your room, holding you close and keeping you warm in the chilly night air. She makes sure you have everything you need before snuggling up beside you in bed<3

You’re dazzled by the multicolored lights flashing before your eyes, changing with each powder Julian tosses into the fire. There’s so much joy floating around the campfire, you find yourself feeling utterly relaxed. So relaxed, in fact, that you lay your head down in Julian’s lap and pass out.

Julian’s too busy showing off his magical powders to notice you’ve fallen asleep, at first. But when he finally does take notice, he makes sure to quiet down. He rubs small circles on your back, gazing thoughtfully down at your peaceful face. He’s glad to see you so restful.

When it’s time to go, he doesn’t bother to try waking you. Instead, he carefully lifts you into his arms and carries you back to your room. He’s so very gentle when he tucks you in, stealthily sliding into bed beside you and cuddling you close <3

Portia practically pulls you into her lap when she notices you yawning. With a wink, she promises she’ll wake you up if anything crazy exciting happens. You smile up at her before falling asleep to the comforting sensation of her combing her fingers through your hair.

You’re knocked out for the remainder of the bonfire. Portia makes mental notes of all the things you’re missing, ready to regale you with all of the nonsense that occurred while you slept. She marvels over the fact that you could sleep through Lucio’s racket (though she did see your face twist in what could’ve been annoyance when he was being particularly loud). She was quick to quiet him down, shooting him a dirty look.

When it’s time to leave, Portia leans in to whisper in your ear, “Come on, cuddle bug. It’s time to go.” She giggles as your eyes flutter open and you flash a quizzical look her way. She’s never called you “cuddle bug” before and you’re not sure how you feel about it. You can’t help but laugh a little as she guides you back to the room, ready to settle in for the night with you <3

Muriel has been silent, as usual, the whole of the night. But you’ve caught him smiling a few times. He seems a bit mesmerized by the changing colors of the fire. Seeing him relaxed makes you feel even more relaxed than you already were. You lay your head down in Muriel’s lap, which startles him at first, and decide to close your eyes for a minute.

Well, a minute becomes a while. You’re lulled to sleep by Muriel’s warmth, the crackle of the fire, and the gentle rush of the waves. Muriel is rigid when he discovers you’ve fallen asleep on him. He doesn’t move a muscle the entire rest of the night, terrified to wake you up. In fact, he barely breathes in fear of rousing you (something you’ll laugh about later).

When it’s time to go, he awkwardly lifts you from the ground, cradling you gently in his arms. You wake up on the walk back to your room, but he keeps you snuggled up in his embrace. When you reach home, you fall asleep again, wrapped up in his arms <3

In the brief moment that night when Lucio is actually sitting still, you manage to lay your head in his lap. “Don’t you go falling asleep on me, MC!” he teases, catching you yawning, “The night is young, yet!” You roll your eyes at him, settling further in. Secretly, he’s happy you’re cuddling up with him.

Despite Lucio’s hullabaloo, you manage to fall asleep. When he looks down to ask if you want anything else to eat or drink, he notices you’re passed out in his lap. A lot of things go through his mind, all at once. He has half a mind to draw a moustache on you, smiling devilishly at the thought. But he’s also just really delighted that you’re relaxed enough with him to fall asleep.

He lets you rest (though he’s not very good at keeping quiet for you and, in his excitement over the bonfire, he definitely bonks you in the head a couple times with his knee which is followed up by profuse apologies, smooches, and hushes for you to go back to sleep). When it’s time to go, he shakes you awake (a bit unceremoniously), but makes up for it when you return to your room by tucking you into bed and cuddling up beside you <3

[melrosing]

MBO Robert's Rebellion: Season 2 Episode 4

what the fuck is this: it's me drafting a fake robert's rebellion tv show through a series of bullet points. there will be two seasons of ten episodes each

SEASON ONE: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5, Episode 6, Episode 7, Episode 8, Episode 9, Episode 10

SEASON TWO: Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4

prev: 2.03

next: tbc

so I did fully try to see if I could get that fishing boat scene out of here but in the end I decided I couldn’t and also now I’ve decided I’ve found meaning in it after all. I’ve found meaning in Ned’s fishing boat adventure

also I am finding the Rhaegar/Elia and Rhaegar/Lyanna the most difficult to try and suss out but I’m feeling a lot clearer on them now at least in terms of how I personally want to interpret them so…. yeah this has been fun for that

title for this one: who else completely forgot gulltown existed

A raven flies to the Eyrie; inside Jon Arryn’s solar, we see Jon, Ned and Robert all assembled, apparently having slept there waiting for this missive. Jon reads aloud for the three of them, and so they learn of what has become of Rickard and Brandon Stark. Ned is frozen in the sudden onslaught of grief. Robert asks what news of Lyanna. Ned tells him without needing to hear it: she wasn’t even there. The missive ends as Aerys demands Jon’s fealty, and the heads of his wards. Robert and Ned look to Jon, suddenly aware of their vulnerability here. Jon asks if they truly doubt him - they are as good as sons to him, he says, and better than any he might have had. They are each the heads of their houses now, and must lead them for Lyanna. He goes then to Ned and comforts him as he falls apart

Lyanna awakens beside the embers of a campfire, Rhaegar’s cloak wrapped about her. She has been dreaming again, and senses something terrible has happened - but can’t think what. Rhaegar returns from between the trees from watering the horses. Lyanna asks him if it is strange that she’s hardly thought of her father since she left his camp? How frightened he must be. Suddenly frantic, she tells Rhaegar she needs to go back, and tell her father she’s alright. She’s meant to be at Brandon’s wedding. It will be any day now.Rhaegar looks at her sadly, and Lyanna realises she remembers the dream she’s been pushing to the back of her mind. She looks to Rhaegar. ‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Rhaegar looks back sadly. Lyanna collapses into his arms

Rip

Jaime walks into the throne room to relieve Lewyn Martell at the foot of Aerys’ throne. He looks up at the king with disgust and trepidation. Aerys sits at the top, gnawing at his fingernails - last night felt so good so right, yet now he’s more frightened than ever. He asks Merryweather if they’ve received word from Jon Arryn. Merryweather, uneasy, says there is still time

Maester at the Eyrie writes missives to the lords of the Vale, rallying them against the crown. The ravens fly out in different directions across the region

A call to arms lands in the hands of Lord Grafton, who reads it with a sullen look. His maester asks how he should like to reply. Grafton considers this a moment, before announcing that House Grafton remains loyal to the crown, and what the prince has done with some northern girl is no concern for men of the Vale

Lyanna riding through the woods, her eyes distant. Rain chucking it down. Rhaegar rides beside her in silence. After some time, he tells her that it wasn’t her fault what had happened to her father and brother. Lyanna wonders how it could be anyone’s fault but hers. Even now, she doesn’t know why she’s still running - she should’ve married Robert Baratheon as her father had wanted, and then perhaps Lord Rickard and Brandon would still be alive. Rhaegar reaches over to turn her face to his, and tells her that Robert Baratheon is not her fate. He never was. Lyanna, shocked at Rhaegar’s sudden intensity, asks again where it is that they are going

Lewyn Martell with Elia in Maegor’s Holdfast. Elia asks after the King; Lewyn says that the King is well. Elia says that’s not what she means. Lewyn pauses, then says he wouldn’t let anything happen to his sister’s daughter; it was the last thing he promised Loreza. Elia says that in life Loreza had thought marrying her to the Prince would be the best thing she could do for her daughter - though spiting Tywin Lannister was no small part of it. But this isn’t a safe place, and she isn’t happy; no-one laughs here, and her children have no idea where their father is. Neither does she, for that matter. Hesitating, Elia says she supposes the Prince is a friend of Lewyn’s, and asks his forgiveness for speaking ill. Lewyn says that he doesn’t think the Prince had friends, not even Arthur for all the time he spent by his side. Elia ponders that, then reveals that for the first year she’d thought she loved Rhaegar - he was hard to know but he said he’d seen her in his dreams. How could she not love that? Only now, she thinks perhaps he’d dreamt wrong. He thinks this northern girl is - she doesn’t know what he thinks she is. But she finds herself despising Lyanna - isn’t that foolish? That she hates this child, and yet still some part of her clings to Rhaegar. Lewyn says he doesn’t think it is foolish to have loved the Prince; many women have. Elia agrees, and says she knows now that she was just another

In Jon Arryn’s solar with Ned and Robert (are they ever getting out of there? stay tuned). Jon Arryn tells the boys he’s received messages of solidarity from many of his vassals - but not all. Lord Grafton has written back declaring his fealty to the crown, and though he has always esteemed Jon’s intelligence, he suspects it falters here. He recommends Jon send Aerys his wards’ heads before the King claims his. Robert says it’s a given then - they must march on Gulltown, and see who gets to keep their head. A rare smirk from Jon Arryn; they have enough men to take on Gulltown, but this will be only the first of their battles. He turns to Ned. He is Lord Stark now; what does he wish to do? Ned says he wants Lyanna back. Jon nods; then they’ll have need of his northmen - how fast can he rally them?

Robert and Ned say goodbye as Ned prepares to traverse the Mountains of the Moon; Robert will march to Gulltown with Jon in the meantime, gathering men as they go. Robert says that if they’re Jon’s sons, then Ned is his brother, and when they get Lyanna back they will make it law. Ned nods, slightly tearful, and the two go their separate ways

Rhaegar and Lyanna approach Summerhall. Lyanna’s eyes shine at the sight of the ruin: it is sad, beautiful, and altogether ethereal. She dismounts her horse, and wanders towards it on foot. There are flowers growing in between the wreckage, and amongst them her favourite, winter roses. Lyanna is confused, telling Rhaegar that she has only known them to grow in the North. Rhaegar tells her he’s come to these ruins since he was a boy; here, the music comes to him, and he sees things in waking dreams. For some time now, he reveals, he has seen her. That’s really it for Lyanna; they kiss

One week later. Robert marching through the Stormlands, Gulltown on the horizon. Bit of tooting from the war trumpets idk. Jon Arryn tells Robert that cannot hope to have caught Grafton unawares; Robert says he certainly hopes not

Ned meanwhile, wearing a Daemon hood: he’s about to cross the Bite. He boards a fisherman’s boat, paying handsomely for the man’s silence. The fisherman warns that there is a storm coming, and Ned pays him more - they have to depart now

Grafton’s men emerge from the walls of Gulltown. Jon reminds Robert that this is real war now, not a melee. Robert like ‘depends how you look at it’ and leads the charge, bellowing

From the fishing boat, Ned looks up at the rapidly darkening skies. The waves grow taller, and Ned tells the fisherman he’s sorry for ever forcing him to ride such a storm. Fisherman reveals he knows who Ned is, and he knows where he’s going. He himself used to be a Duskendale man, till Aerys did for good lord Denys, so fuck the king etc he’ll get Ned across the Bite if it’s the last thing he does. Anyway it literally is bc two seconds later he’s been thrown overboard and Ned’s knocked out as he collides with the side of the boat. I’m sparing my imaginary production crew the trouble of filming this basically

Robert amidst the chaos of battle at Gulltown. He spies Marq Grafton and charges at him. As Robert makes his first strike at Grafton…

We cut abruptly to Ned, waking up on the beached fisherman’s boat. The fisherman’s daughter is clearing the detritus from the deck. Ned asks where her father is, but the girl won’t look at him. She tells him she has gotten him to the Three Sisters, like they promised they would; if it’s to be worth her father’s life, he’d best do what he came to do

Aerys at his supper table alongside Rhaella; Varys leans in to whisper news of Gulltown. We don’t hear it ourselves, but we can tell what the news is as we slowly zoom on Aerys’ face, terror on Rhaella’s in the periphery

Robert at the seat of House Grafton, accepting the surrender of his opposition, and the fealty of one Lyn Corbray. He looks delighted with himself. Jon Arryn praises him quietly but reminds him that this battle was only the first - and the first of many, he fears. Robert like, so be it. He wants his bride back

Rhaegar and Lyanna stand beneath a heart tree. All about them are the charred remains of trees burnt decades ago, but this one survived. Rhaegar ties cloth about their hands himself as they look deep into each other’s eyes. Together they say the words, and it is done

[jessequinones]

Writing Advice: Filler Chapters

I uh...didn't intend to write three different things about chapters but uh...at the bottom of this post there'll be links to my lore chapter and just overall chapter articles.

So, this doesn’t apply to a lot of stories, but mainly to the ones who use a lot of actions. It’s ok to take a break. I’m reading a book at the moment and while there are slow moments in these chapters, once the plot gets moving, there’s almost some kind of action scene or suspense going on that keeps the characters moving. The characters hardly take a breather once the plot gets moving and I would like to tell everyone, it’s ok to relax.

Moving from one action set piece to another can be quite tiring, as the characters and the readers don’t get a chance to take a break. Sure the characters can pause every couple of minutes, but the reader knows it’s not gonna last and is sometimes just waiting for the next action sequence to happen.

Filler chapters are great because they break up the story to allow readers to relax while also exploring your world and characters before the next action set piece occurs. I understand filler chapters get a lot of flak because they don’t contribute to the plot, but that’s fine. They aren’t meant to contribute to the plot, if they are, then they aren’t filler. Filler chapters are used to help fill out the world and the characters while giving the readers time to pause and reflect on what's been going on.

When is it a good time to add filler? That choice is up to you, but let’s take a look at some examples. If your characters are on the run, and others are chasing them. You can add a filler chapter while they’re resting. It doesn’t have to be much, but enjoying downtime at their campfire before moving can be a great way to show off your character's personality. Maybe even hint at some romance if you want.

If your characters enter a new place, at least give that location one chapter before destroying it. In this book I’m reading, the main character goes back home to realise there’s a festival. They meet up with their childhood friend and for a brief moment, they’re happy. That doesn’t last an entire entire chapter. In one chapter they go back home, in the next it’s destroyed, and there is no rest period. There was a moment where the main character and the love interest had a brief moment being cute together, but it wasn’t for an entire chapter. It goes from them being cute, to death.

This location, of the main character's home, could've had great filler. The main friend group could see where this guy grew up. We could see the festival, and how the culture in this town plays out. We can catch up with old characters and have playful banter. There are so many extra scenarios the story could’ve gone into if the story just took a moment to rest. (This isn’t a small book by the way, over 400 pages). Not to mention, this is just after one of their friends had died. Use this new location to show us how they’re reacting to said death. Talk about it. Give them space to breathe, it’s fine.

If you go from one action set piece to another, it might start to feel like these fights ARE the filler as if you have too much, they start to lose their meaning. I skipped over two characters' deaths because I didn’t care for another fight sequence. In both of these character deaths, the main character never has time to reflect on them so I just don’t care, no matter how major these deaths are. There’s never any time to reflect on them. I’m not saying you need to reflect on every death, but some deaths in which the reader might go, “Hold up...that should impact you...why aren’t you affected?” does take you out of the story as you might start questioning the entire relationship between the alive and dead characters.

Filler chapters are most commonly used for romance. Once the characters can breathe, and relax, they start to grow and get close to one another. Filler romance chapters are a great way for readers who don’t care about romance to skip them if they just want to get back into the action. Using filler chapters for romance does make the romance feel more natural since you get the vibe they’re connecting and you as the reader can feel like you’re connecting as well.

Let’s go back to my earlier example, the main character and the love interest in the town in which the main character grew up in. It’s a festival and everyone is having fun. Remember that cute moment which gets interrupted? Don’t interrupt that part. Use the entire chapter as a way for their bond to feel closer, for them to get to know each other, talk about what's on their mind, reflect on what happened so far, and maybe...even...kiss each other. *gasp* It’ll make their moment feel more impactful, as the reader knows it's not gonna last, but for one chapter, it feels like there's happiness.

Filler chapters are also used for world-building. While I understand, that not a lot of people like filler chapters being used for lore, because if the lore was important, why isn’t it implemented in the actual story? But sometimes, if you can only squeeze in the lore in filler chapters, that's all you can do. Now, while I do recommend if there’s anything noteworthy that you don’t want your readers to skip over, maybe don’t put those in the filler chapters. What I personally like to add is just fun little world-building stuff. Things that the reader doesn’t need to know to understand the plot but if they read it they can see that the world is bigger than what the plot gives off.

Honestly, I could probably write another article on how to do this, but I’ll summarise how to use filler chapters for world-building. If your characters are in a city, use one or two chapters to show off that city's culture. You can do this by having them go to shops, or engaging with the locals. If your city is set more modern, have them watch ads that give off snippets of how the world is operating or what’s going on. The city is such a great place to drop your characters in because anything you can think of what to do in a real city, you can do it in a story.

If your characters are at a campfire, and one of them is smart, have the smart one talk about the world, if they’re in a cave and just exploring, have them discover something interesting in the caves. If your characters are in a small town, spend a chapter at a tavern, and have them overhear a song that explains the plot, or adds some lore. Have them go to a church and witness the religion of that area. I think you get the picture. Having your characters interact with the world around them, instead of always making a dash for the main plot will make your story feel a bit more full.

Use filler chapters as a time to reflect and pause on the story. This is mostly used after a character dies and for good reason. If someone dies, you need time to process it. Having your characters always on the move, especially after someone dies feels kind of weird. If five chapters go by and your characters never get time to reflect on someone's death, especially if the dead character was important to another, that might make the reader feel like you didn’t care about said character. If a reader feels like you don’t care about certain characters, but the readers did, the reader might feel betrayed since they wanted time to reflect but never got a chance to.

In the book I’m reading, a character, who’s in a relationship with another, died around page 192, I’m currently on page 278 and not once, did they ever reflect on said death. The character's lover is sad, and the one who caused it, feels guilty, but we don’t get to hear them talk about what happened.

We have, filler chapters being used for romance, lore building, and character deaths, what about just fun? You know how in anime there’s almost always a beach episode? Do a beach episode. Do a fun little chapter that just shows your characters having fun. Yes, I know the world is gonna end if they don’t hurry, but no one is gonna complain if your characters take some time off from saving the world. Again, the best thing about filler chapters is if someone doesn’t like them, they can skip over them. For me, seeing characters take the time to be themselves makes them feel more real. Show off a little goofy trait they have, show off an uncommon fear, just something to show these characters are real. They’re not just one note, they have depth and a personality. If you want, pair up two characters that don’t spend a lot of time with each other and see what happens.

When are filler chapters bad? They only end up bad when there’s a bit too much of them and it feels like a chore to get through just for the main plot. Filler chapters work best if they stand alone and aren’t long. Maybe two chapters back to back, but never three. At that point, readers might start to think these filler sections are actually part of the story. You also shouldn’t be adding in filler chapters whenever you want, sometimes the characters do need to just focus on the main plot of the story. If they’re approaching the villain's lair, you might not want to put down a beach episode, however, just before they approach the evil lair, give them a small chapter to reflect on what's going on and what might happen is fine. Time and place.

Filler chapters at the beginning of the story are also something you might want to avoid, at least until it’s clear when the plot starts. It’s a bit hard to determine what’s filler and what’s setting up the story, but one easy way is to ask yourself, if a reader skips this, will they be missing out on anything? I think it’s a good rule of thumb to establish the main plot of your story around chapter 5. That way you have at least four chapters of buildup, setting up your characters, and the world, as you prepare your readers for what's in store. Once the plot gets moving, it’ll be up to you to figure out when to add in filler chapters, but keep in mind, that some readers would like to read a few chapters of plot-related stuff before their first filler chapter. So if chapter five is when the plot begins, chapter six probably shouldn’t be a filler chapter.

I think that about covers it for now when it comes to filler chapters. Try to imagine a sandwich when you’re making a story. The first bread is the start of your story, the foundation. It’s where the first five chapters go to get the readers invested in what’s about to happen. Then you fill the sandwich with plot-related chapters, and you add filler like the sauce or seasoning. You don’t want to overdo it, but adding them can help make your sandwich taste a lot better. Then you end your story with another piece of bread to seal the deal. Remember, if your plot is about saving the world, and you only focus on that, your sandwich won't be that big, even if there are a lot of chapters.

Don’t get me wrong, some people like a simple sandwich, but if you want to expand it, your story needs to have more than just saving the world plot. Side plots, filler, and character plots can contribute to the overarching plot of your story. After your readers have finished digesting your story, they can look back and be like. That was a good, big sandwich.

Lore chapters post: https://www.tumblr.com/jessequinones/745713565342760960/writing-advice-lore-chapters?source=share

Chapters post: https://www.tumblr.com/jessequinones/745095489988509696/writing-advice-chapters?source=share

[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S2E8: The Sins of the Father

I like how much it was shown in this episode the way Merlin cared about Arthur as a person. He wanted to keep him safe and happy. Whether he chose the right method is another question. It also showed how much Arthur trusted Merlin with his true face and his vulnerability.

After accepting Morgause's challenge, Arthur was very insistent and confident in front of his father, but here in his own room, with Merlin cleaning his armour, he allowed himself to show uncertainty, if not in words but in his demeanour.

I love these little glances of how they spent everyday life together. Merlin stayed at night, doing his chores and chatting with Arthur about the day's event.

I liked that Merlin mentioned maybe Arthur would hesitate facing a woman, not teasing but out of worry. He also wanted to spare Arthur of his guilt so he didn’t object to persuading Morgause to withdraw. He didn't forget to reassure Arthur either when the combat was inevitable.

This scene was so cute. Merlin was all serious before the fight, but once Arthur was safe and had the energy to complain, it was fine again for Merlin to tease him. Arthur could only whine like a child and make excuses in front of Merlin because Merlin would tease him. He wouldn't take Arthur's excuses, but he also wouldn't look down on him because of the childish behaviour. In front of Morgause, he congratulated her for the victory; in front of Uther, he accepted his defeat even when Uther blamed it on Morgause's magic. With Merlin, he said that it was because Morgause was a woman, or later Morgause used magic, and let Merlin disagree with him.

Why was Arthur picking the wall with his dagger like a naughty boy was shot so beautifully in the sunlight?? So melancholy. Gorgeous.

It's always "we" <3 I like that while Merlin and Uther had the same opinion about Morgause's motivation, what Uther did was to lock Arthur in, and Merlin was to get Arthur out. It's not like Merlin was convinced. In fact, he argued about it all the way until Arthur brought out his mother. But he would always follow Arthur's lead.

I love that after all the ranting on the road, Merlin didn’t say anything, anything at all, when Arthur finally admitted the real reason he was so insistent on the trip -- to learn about his mother. Beautiful understanding.

Then came the lovely campfire scene. It might be the first time Merlin willingly shared a piece of himself. In too many similar scenes it was Arthur sharing his thoughts or emotions while Merlin reassure him, making this scene extra special. I think Arthur looked a bit surprised too. I also love how quick Merlin replied “No.” when Arthur asked if was wrong to seek a glimpse of his mother at all costs. This beautiful understanding made the fact that Merlin chose to deny the truthfulness of Ygraine's spirit in the end all the more tragic.

I wonder what Merlin thought about the fact that Arthur was born of magic. About Uther’s hypocrisy. There was one instance where he seemed to be angry about that. But mostly he was just sad for Arthur.

The fact that Arthur allowed Merlin to witness this was another proof of his immense trust in Merlin. He was so exposed and vulnerable, a little kid begging for his mother's forgiveness. And he trusted that Merlin wouldn't use it against him.

After all those beautiful mutual understanding and heart-to-heart, it ended with a lie and a broken smile. Merlin really sounded so cheerful if you didn't look at his face. The contrast was heartbreaking. Merlin wanted to protect Arthur's heart so much that he made an unforgivable lie. Arthur trusted Merlin so much that he accepted it. Their dynamic was so tragic and beautiful I will never get over it.

[S2E8] [other episodes]

[zweetpea]

Chapter 1: Prologue the stardust family

Summary:

This is somewhat a mix of Sagau and genshin Cult AU with some isekai elements thrown in for fun. Key - { } translations and pick is time skip/scene transition.

The broke college student started up their third genshin account. “Hmm, who should I choose this time? Ugh, I wish there was a way to choose both! Hmm, maybe I could hack the code in the game and try to glitch it.” They pulled up the source code and started to mess around “Kate Kaslana? I’ve never heard of her.” Trying to click on the code just brought them back to the game it started to glitch and their screen started to warm outward and inward. 

They reached toward the screen to see what happened and their hand warped straight through. As they tried to pull out their hand got stuck something, or maybe someone, was trying to pull them inside. “No no no no no! Shit!” They fell through and struck the sustainer of heavenly principles. “I’ll deal with you two later!”  She seals the twins and throws them out.

“Now who do you think you are?” 

“Please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry! I was just messing around, I didn’t mean to come here!” 

“You insolent little vermin! I should- I should… I can’t even touch you. Fine, I’ll leave you with this then if you want so badly to experience the world then you’ll have to see it through to the end. I can’t have you dying through, there would be no resets for you. So i bestow my immortality upon you. Rest now, for when you wake you’ll have the glory and debauchery which you desire. You’re also getting a makeover, I’ll match you with the stardust twin.” 

Meanwhile in Tevat the twins woke up 500 years after the fall of Khaenri’ah. 

“Lu? Surge. Age! Surge!”  {Lu? Wake up. Come on! Wake up!} 

(This is Latin, Author-Senpai has made the executive decision that the twins originally spoke Latin [we’ve also decided to be a weeaboo cause this story’s already crack enough why TF not!]<3 as the queen Casey Aonso once said “this is for the Netflix charts, not the art.”) 

{What in the dark realms are you doing} 🤍 

{Thank goodness you’re okay!} 🖤 

{Yeah now get off me stupid!} 🤍 

{Okay, wow screw you too. We should find something to eat.} 🖤 

{No shit, I’ll look for berries and meat. You try to catch some food.} 🤍 

{Alright, I’ll see if I can set up a campfire as well.} 🖤 

{Sounds good.} 🤍 

Our hero (you) watches in an almost lucid dream state as the twins meet paimon and they learn the language of the world. Happy tears fall from their eyes as they see the twins laughing and teasing each other and Paimon. “These two are going to be alright. No matter what happens I did it, they can travel together. I just… wish I could go home, back to my friends and family.” They thought. 

Over time our hero woke up and looked upon themself in the reflection of the ocean. The sustainer of heavenly principles had given them baggy black pants, a white dress shirt with a black tie, a white zipper hoodie that resembles a dragon with gold sparkles around the top and wrists, black combat boots and fingerless gloves bedazzled with stars. They muse to themself, “This is pretty cute.” 

And with that they run after the travelers.

[almayver]

Alma,,, you have inflicted in me the greatest pain. You cannot just say “hanahaki phumpeem” AND THATS IT

Like LIKE CUEHDJW I’m a SUCKER for that kind of unrequited but not really pining. The person enters such a deep mindset of “it’s over, i have no chance anymore they will never feel the same now.”

And Phum??? Phum would totally enter such a mindset when Kluen comes into picture. In such little time, so very powerful, his insecurities and his inner conflict were already pretty strong in canon IMAGINE. JUST IMAGINE FURTHER WITH ME.

He catches it at the beginning. It’s loose, it’s just some coughing at first. In the first day of camp. Some phantom feeling of something being caught in his chest, uncomfortable.

Then the “charming prince” goodnight kiss happens and he goes to sleep feeling a bit better (yet its all in his head because once hanahaki takes grip of you only acertain, irrevocable confession will kill it)

And now I just imagine the next day. The “phum hurts his finger” day. And I imagine his inner struggle in that scene, the distraction isn’t what makes him hurt himself. Now I imagine him spiraling in that scene where they clean up, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed with coughs. Such powerful coughs that the hammer slips and hits his finger and still hurts him, but now Fang and Peem and the others are rushing to his side because Phum can’t stop coughing and wheezing for breath.

No flowers yet, but he feels them in his throat and he’s so panicked. He grabs at Fang’s arm without even realizing and Fang is losing his goddamn mind, Beer is calling his name over and over again. And Peem? Peem is in such distress that his hands are trembling a bit.

It’s safe to say that in this version Fang doesn’t really leave Phum’s side. When Peem offers to take care he gently refuses it and takes Phum outside so he can calm down for real. And Peem respects it because Fang has that severe overprotectiveness all over his face, his posture.

Phum ends up on those stairs upside, non verbal while Fang dresses up the wound on his finger and gently asks him “What happened? Phum, please talk to me?”

But Phum can only shake his head and croak, “I don’t know.”

Fang cups his cheek and turns his head to check his breathing, then clicks his tongue in exasperation because he doesn’t have his phone with him and he needs to give his brother water. Phum’s throat sounds fcuked up.

So he says, “I’m going to run and grab a glass. Stay here, okay? I’m coming right back. In a second, okay?”

Phum nods, a bit unsure about being alone, but Fang all but bolts off the stairs so he knows his brother won’t take long.

Cue Peem, who couldn’t help but come out to check on Phum despite Tan’s reassurances that he’s in safe hands. When Phum spots him, his face crumbles in the most devastating way and his hushed, quivery “Peem.” makes Peem all but rush to his side, hands warm and steady as they also cup his cheek, his neck to check his breathing.

Peem wants to ask what happened, he wants to know if Phum ever had something like this happening to him again. He wants to ask so many fuccking things because Phum looked so in pain back there.

But he ends up just muttering, “You’re alright. You’re alright.”

He doesn’t know if it’s a reassurance for Phum, or for himself. But it makes Phum bury his face right against Peem’s collarbone, breaths starting to get shaky again, so he doesn’t care for who it is, he just continues to whisper you are alright until they both stop trembling.

Fang finds them like that, and he offers them a mellow expression of aching fondness.

God Alma i’m so abnormal about this. SO ABNORMAL.

I imagine the first time Phum starts actually coughing petals is after his argument with Peem the night of the campfire. When Phum foolishly brings up the deal and Peem tells him “just because i’m your slave doesn’t mean I can’t talk with other people” (paraphrased of course)

He leaves the room, sees Q wating for Peem outside, and quickens his pace. He barely makes it on the path towards the sleeping shed when the coughing starts, so aggressively that he falls on his knees, bloody petals spilling onto his quivering palms.

I don’t know if when he meets up with Beer in the sleeping shed he still has bloody hands and blood at the corners of his mouth, but I imagine that would give Beer the scare of his fucking life.

I feel like Beer would know about hanahaki for some reason. I feel like he would gently but morose that what he’s going through is named “hanahaki” and its… very hard to cure. And that he should talk to Peem. Immediately. Before it worsens. But Phum is so out of it about that— of course he gets sick the first time he feels so strongly for someone. Of course it’s for Peem.

Of course he’s coughing roses. Like the ones he bought for Peem the night he was drunk.

Phum is mostly concerned that he hurt Peem. He still asks Beer for advice on that. And Beer is exasperated, but he’s also so gentle as he gives Phum the exact same advice from the series. Apologize.

“But talk to him, after that.” Beer puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “You need to, Phum. This can be very dangerous for you.”

But when does this happen??? Well it could in many instances. I feel like Phum wouldn’t talk to him about it when he apologizes and almost ends the deal.

I feel like he would have another coughing fit in Peem’s room, actually. Because that scene is playful, and Phum looks teasing, he looks like he knows how Peem feels about him, maybe, but in that scene Peem also deflects a lot, even if it’s somewhat playful. And that could be a trigger for hanahaki for sure.

Damn. Phum pushing Peem on the bed, coy smirk still on his face. But then he’s overcome with coughing, right over Peem. And Peem startles so hard he ends up yanking Phum on the bed.

YEA I WILL LEAVE IT HERE THIS IS EATING AWAY AT ME LIKEEEEEE FUCCCCKKK

Cole you come back right here what do you mean you leave it there.

But on the other hand hey, how do you want me to deliver my fucking soul because it's yours after this. Yes! Yes to everything. You get it

OF COURSE IT WOULD BE ROSES. OF COURSE. HOW DIDNT I THINK ABOUT THAT DETAIL

And the fact that roses in hanahaki normally tend to be the ones you get when its particularly intense??

Imagine them being that deep blood red. Gods gods gods

And Beer. Beer being heartbroken. Beer being terrified. Beer remaining calm anyways. Beer the absolute love of my life. And imagine Fang finding out??? The terror he would feel? How he would feel guilty even, because he didn't protect him even though how do you protect someone from love. And I imagine he would want to storm towards Peem house and make him confess (because he knows Peem loves his brother. He knows it and he is going to be happy about it when all of this is over)

And Phum of course refuses. Makes him promise not to tell anyone. Not to even mention it to Tan. And he looks so much like the little desperate kid that left on that plane and made him promise not to forget him that Fang caves in and tells him that he'll keep it a secret but if it gets too bad he is stepping in.

And gods imagine Phum now avoiding Peem, half so he doesn't notice the petals half because being near him hurts even when it's his favorite thing in the world. And Peem of course it's going a little mad because the puppy that used to trail him around is not there anymore and whenever he actually sees him Phum looks so sad? So defeated? And Beer and Fang keep looking at him, also so sad but also hopeful but also desperate and he is so fucking confused and a little hurt and a lot scared.

Aaaaand I also have no idea where to go from there. How bad it would get. What the reveal and the confession would be like. How the rest of the group would be affected like Toey, Mick but also the rest of the group because they also care about Phum by now. AHHHHH.

Oh gods the image of him in his bed, thinking about Peem, holding Noi. And suddenly he starts coughing. And the plushie, his beloved plushie, covered in petals and blood. Someone help

Cole dear thank you for taking my random thought and running with it 🖤🖤🖤 I bring a bucket of sand and you make it the coolest sand castle every time

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

An Unwavering Light - Chapter One

Rating: T/Teen for violence (in certain chapters), coarse language, and mature themes, including ones about trauma and depression.

Setting: begins before the confrontation with Aizen and co. in Fake Karakura Town arc, and goes from there to the manga's end.

Music to listen to: Swan Song by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), Compassion by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify) Recollection I (YT | Spotify), II (YT | Spotify), and III (YT | Spotify) by Shiro Sagisu, Spiritual Bond by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify), Here to Stay by Shiro Saigsu (YT | Spotify), and Ceremony Commences by Shiro Sagisu (YT | Spotify).

Synopsis: During the confrontation against Aizen, the unthinkable happens. For Hitsugaya, a vow is broken, and for Hinamori, her future is unknown. With everything in shambles, how can they piece their lives back together? Or their bond?

AN: And so it begins. This has been years in the making, starting very close to when I first read BLEACH. Thank you to everyone who voted in my last poll, where the story of Toshiro and Momo's reconciliation was the winner.

For those who haven't been following me, this fic is primarily about how Toshiro and Momo reconcile after Aizen's defeat. While this will be a chaptered story, I aim to write most of these chapters as though they could be standalone fics, so if you haven't reach the previous chapter, you hopefully don't feel out of the loop.

This story will be a long one (at this stage, I’ve planned for about 20 chapters, but we’ll see how we go) and is based on this massive list of headcanons I wrote last year. It will include scenes from other fics I’ve written (and were inspired by/based on the headcanon list to an extent) but either from another character’s perspective or changed in some ways.

This first chapter was a hard one to write. I have never really explored what happened to Hinamori in the months leading up the Fake Karakura Town arc, but I knew it would involve coming to terms with her trauma and accepting, in part, that Aizen was not the man she thought. It would also involve her having to find the strength to go confront him on the battlefield. I hope I did her justice in this chapter.

Finally, the figurines Hinamori has in her room are based on these dolls from Usaburo.

With all of that out of the way, let's get started! I hope you all enjoy this!

Disclaimer: BLEACH and it’s character’s belong to Tite Kubo.

Next chapter >>

_____________________________

She was surrounded by darkness. She turned – or at least, thought she’d moved to turn – to search around her. She open her mouth to speak to the void around her, but heard no voice come from her throat. There was nothing to feel, hear, smell or see.

Has she done it right? The instructor had warned her she may not get there until another few attempts.

Then, after a blink, something small and bright sprun to life. Even from the long distance she stood at, she knew it was flames, resembling a campfire. She frowned when she couldn’t see any wood or kindling burning, the fire simply burning on it’s own.

She’d always been wary of fire, especially when it was not one within a firepit or a lantern, but she knew in her gut this one was not like others. When the voice comes form the flames, a whisper that gradually becomes a call, she stepped towards it.

_________________________________________

The curtains flutter in the gentle breeze, brushing over the windowsill in slow, undulating waves. Outside, one the division’s zanjutsu instructors yells commands at those in his class, nearly obscuring the chirping of a nearby bird and the chattering of officers that pass by underneath the window.

Hinamori listens to all of this and watches the shadows of the curtains dance across her quilt. There’s something hypnotic about it, almost meditative.

She wants to stay in this trance, be lost in it for a few moments longer. Her head is heavy, but empty for once. She doesn’t let any particular thought stick or take hold, just lets it be vague and pass by until it fades, like the afterimage of a bright streak of light.

But one thought persists. A memory, too recent and fresh to forget. She let’s it go by, but it keeps coming back, trying to get her attention.

It’s a minute later when a leaf blows in, landing on the quilt, just below her knees. She frowns at it, and her furrow only deepens when another joins it. They’re different shades; one a golden brown, the other flame red. Autumn is here, but it only felt like summer yesterday.

She tries following the curtains’ shadows again, but the leaves broke her concentration, and the memory creeps closer and closer, until it’s all she reflects on.

Hitsugaya’s face comes to mind, eyes wide and lips parted, speechless at first. It had been the first time she’d properly seen him in weeks – not in streaks of color while rushing at him with her sword raised, or at a distance while following him to Central Forty-Six. Ad she's stood before the screen, sorrow and guilt had outweighed the small flutter of gratitude that he didn’t turn his back on her. The way his expression had softened to one of concern, it makes her heart ache just as much now as it did then.

He cared, even after everything she did against him, he cared.

When he’d told her, in his own way, that an apology for her actions wasn’t needed, she’d never felt so relieved in all her life. She wouldn’t blame him for not forgiving her, but she didn’t know what she’d do if he hadn’t. She dreaded the idea of them growing apart and becoming strangers to each other.

She’d never thought of a life without Hitsugaya, as if somehow he would always be there until the very end.

But then, she’d never thought of a life without Aizen either.

And it was this same way of thinking that had led her to asking Hitsugaya to not kill her captain – former captain, she tries to correct. Her request had broken what little peace there’d been between them, and she’d become so lost in trying to justify it to him and to herself she doesn’t remember how Hitsugaya’s face looked, nor did she notice Yamamoto cast hakufuku on her. When she next awoke, it was in her room, with Isane at her side.

With a deep breath in, one that lifts her shoulders and chest, some of that weight in her head shifts, coming forward to make her neck crane forward. She had been granted an opportunity to make things right, and she had wasted it.

Yet, for all of her guilt for her actions against Hitsugaya and others, and for the shame of losing control in front of the Captain Commander, she can’t shake off the belief Aizen never meant for any of this.

Someone had to be controlling him, or something must have overcome him and compelled him to turn his back on all of them. She knew him. She had been by side for most of the time she was his lieutenant. He had told her things some of the other officer never knew – his favorite books, about the house he grew up in, memories of his student years at the Academy, even his favorite stalls in the Junrinan. Surely he would never do something so harsh without a good reason. He’d always said that to fight for something right and good you sometimes had to go against the laws set up others, after all.

But it doesn’t stop it from making it right that he'd left her behind. How could he have left Fifth Division behind? Why had he?

A knock breaks her reverie. Her throat is coarse from heavy breathing, and her hands on verge of cramping from clutching her quilt.

“It’s Funai-kun and I, Lieutenant,” comes Takagaki’s voice from behind her door.

Hinamori shakes her head and clears her throat, trying to take out the nerves out of her tone. Then, she manages to lift her lips into a smile. “Come in.”

Takagaki slides the door open, allowing Funai to walk in with Hinamori's lunch on a tray. Both are Fifteenth seat in the Fifth Division. If they saw any of her previous anxiety, they didn’t betray it with their own polite smiles.

“I hope we didn’t disturb you,” Takagaki says, trailing into the room.

Hinamori shakes her head. “It’s all right, I was getting a little peckish actually.”

“Guess we came just in time,” Funai chuckles. “Takagaki-san here made your meal today.”

Takagaki looks away, a slight flush colouring her cheeks. “I’m not a great cook, not like others in the Division. I hope it tastes okay.”

“I’m sure it’ll taste great,” Hinamori reassures. “You’ve been taking lessons from Hanae-san from Tenth Division, right?”

Both Funai and Takagaki blink at that.

“Y-Yes,” Takagaki eventually answers. “It’s been me and a group of other seated officers. He’s taught us a lot since we started.” Her smile returns, now thoughtful. “Um…thank you for remembering, Lieutenant.”

Hinamori’s lips widen into a grin. She tries to remember small things about her subordinates, and she at least still has that ability with her now.

Takagaki nods to Funai. “I better get back to the kitchens. I’ll leave the rest to you.” Then, she bows to Hinamori. “I hope you enjoy your lunch, Lieutenant Hinamori. Please let me know if there’s anything not to your liking.”

“I doubt that will be the case. Thank you for preparing my meal.”

After Takagaki leaves the room and Funai starts to lower the tray, a stronger gust of wind blows through. It gives him pause; then, he spies the leaves. “Apologies, Lieutenant, I didn’t see them until now.”

“It’s all right. The wind is pretty strong, I suppose,” Momo offers lamely. “I should’ve picked them up before."

Funai only chuckles nervously and puts the tray on top of her set of drawers. He picks up the leaves and throws them back outside, then goes to lean forward and close the windows.

Hinamori raises a hand. “No, allow me. I should’ve done this earlier.” She pulls the quilt aside and angles over to the window. While pushing the curtains aside and closing the windows, she tries to ignore the disquiet stare boring into the back of her head. It’s as though she is a fragile vase, at risk of tipping over.

He’s being kind, she chastises to herself, he cares about you. Everyone here does.

Windows closed, she sits back again and Funai visibly relaxes.

“How is everyone?” Hinamori asks, trying to distract both herself and him. “I could hear one of the instructors out there before. Sounds like he’s working everyone hard.”

Funai retrieves her lunch and lays the tray over her lap. “He certainly is. Everyone is keen to learn, of course.” He shrugs. “Otherwise, it’s business as usual. I’m sure Isawa-san could fill you in on more details.”

Hinamori nods. After giving thanks for the meal, she takes up the chopsticks. “Have you been drawing or painting lately?”

The answering smile is similar to Takagai’s one from earlier. “Ah, no, not recently. I haven’t found much inspiration lately.”

Hinamori frowns while taking up a heap of rice. “I hope it’s not because of work.”

“Oh, no! Of course not!” The nervous edge to his voice says otherwise. “It’s just a dry time for my art, that’s all. I’ll find a bit of inspiration at when I have time, you know how it is.”

It takes everything within Hinamori to not let her mind wonder to the implication he’d unintentionally brought up. Still, her gaze briefly darts to the sketchbooks lining the bottom shelf of her bookcase. Something flickers across Funai's face, akin to a look of horror, but at her unfaltering smile, he manages to hide it with a clearing of his throat and looking off to the side. “A-Anyway, I’ll leave you be. I’m sure you’ll want to eat in peace, and I have to find Hirose-chan.”

Hinamori blinks at the honorific. Had they gotten closer? She has to resist the urge to grin, the previous pang of darkness falling back, while picking up a tamagoyaki. “Her gardening group, I suppose?”

“Yeah, just maintenance this time.” He gestures to the window. “Being autumn and all, not many plants we can put in the ground, I guess. Not that I know much about gardening.”

Hinamori chuckles. “That is for Hirose-san to know.” She bows her head at the same time he does. “Thank you for bringing me lunch. Please tell Takagaki-san it’s delicious.”

“I will.”

“And…”Hinamori raises her head. “I hope you find inspiration soon. Please remember to not strain yourself with work.”

Funai gives a tense nod. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Hinamori watches him leave, not returning to her meal until the door closes. She’s lost her appetite, but doesn’t want to leave the dishes empty. With the window closed, the orders of the zanjutsu instructor are muffled, the wind swooshes against the walls, and save for her chewing and the clinking over chopsticks to bowls and plates, all is silent in her room.

It leaves her with nothing to do by ruminate, and that all too familiar heavy haze sets back into her head.

__________________________________

You do not need pity.

The room is dark save for a thin beam of moonlight cast on the wall. It had been silent until now, and Hinamori can’t remember what she’d been thinking about for the last few hours.

She twists on to her left side, facing Tobiume. Her zanpakuto is propped up against the wall, next to her set of drawers, the hilt shining dully.

 It’s coming from a good place, Hinamori responds. They mean well, and they care.

Even so, pity is not what you need, Tobiume argues. They should see you as the leader now that he’s gone.

A pang runs through Hinamori’s chest. Even the implication of him hurts. I’m not fit to lead.

Because you haven’t done anything to change things! Simmering heat radiates of the blade. We need to do something, or else we’re stuck here!

“I know I should! You don’t have to…” Her eyes burn with the threat of tears. Tobiume has been more temperamental than usual in the last few days. You’re angry with me.

The heat falters, and gradually cools to a warmth like that off a candle. No, I’m not. I want to see you get better.

Hinamori sighs. Pushing her quilt aside, she slides out of bed and kneels before her weapon. She ignores how much effort all of her movements seem to take, as if someone had tied weights to her limbs.

“I’m sorry it’s taking me so long,” she rasps. “I want to get better, but I don’t know how. It’s all so confusing.” She stares down at her knees, her forehead almost touching Tobiume’s scabbard. “You’ve always been there for me, and I take it for granted.”

You’re stronger than you realise, master. Do not doubt your skills.

Hinamori shuts her eyes and remains silent. It feels like everything she had learned and improved on is gone, vanished like Aizen. It's as if he took them with him, and all that is left within her is everything weak.

This is why you do not need pity. You risk stewing in it. If you continue to lie here, your mind and skills will grow dull, but they’ll never vanish. You’re strong, and you can always be stronger, but you are still strong. You need to show them you are not broken.

Hinamori sighs wryly. “It wouldn’t be the truth though. How can I be strong when all I want is for everything to back to what it was before?”

And with that she stands and returns to her bed. Tobiume is silent for the rest of the night.

__________________________________

Aizen is always in her dreams. Sometimes they start with him as the benevolent captain she knew, then he morphs into the cold figure that stood over her while she bled out. Other time, he has morphed into something monstrous, grinning at her and telling her she’ll never leave him, that she’s too devoted to him.

Waking from these nightmares becomes less of a shock with each one.

__________________________________

“The gardens are looking great.”

Genji raises his head from the paperwork he holds. “Hm?”

Hinamori points out the window to the next courtyard over. “I’m guessing that’s Hirose-san and her group’s work. It looks like they removed some plants and trimmed the bushes.”

Genji smirks. “It took quite a bit of effort. I may have been dragged into it too.”

Hinamori chuckles for the first time in weeks. “She has a way of pulling us into it, doesn’t she?”

Setting aside her longing to be with her division members with a sigh, she turns back to Genji. Ever since she began her recovery, he would visit every few days, sometimes bringing her a meal, other times just to check in on her and converse about casual going-ons  happening around the division.

Today, however, she couldn’t help but be hopeful when he entered with the documents in hand. “Did you need me to look over those papers?”

“No,” Genji says, shaking his head with too much vigor. “These are just my notes from today’s Lieutenant’s meeting. I believe you should know what was discussed.”

“Oh…” Again, she has to set aside her disappointment, this time with a forced smile. “Then, please tell me.”

Genji shifts the chair – a new piece of furniture that’d come not long after it was decided she needed to rest and recover in her room -- closer to Hinamori’s bed and tilts the documents for both of them to see. As he speaks, he points to the relevant lines for her to read. “We have been asked to take on more surveillance in our jurisdiction. Given recent…events, the Captain Commander felt it was best to maintain a watchful eye over all areas of the Soul Society and World of the Living to ensure the Arrancars don’t breach any of the recent kido defenses we’ve put up.”

Hinamori frowns. “These numbers…he wants more than half of the Division’s performing these duties.”

Genji only nods.

“But what if they’re needed for…?” The thought of the impending conflict makes her stomach churn.

Genji sighs through his nose. “There hasn’t been any intel from Twelfth Division about when that battle may be. They still predict it will occur in winter.”

Hinamori presses her lips together, and in the silence, tries to banish the memory of her asking Hitsugaya to not kill Aizen. She tries to understand why this strategy bothers her, as though something were missing. No, as though something were being kept away from her. “We have to be prepared by then. The zanjutsu and kido lessons won’t be enough.”

Genji’s shoulder tense a fraction. He doesn’t meet her gaze as she says, “Yes, of course, Lieutenant.”

“Oh, no, I…” She raises a hand, tempted to lay it on Genji’s shoulder, but then thinks better of it. “That wasn’t a critique of how you’re running the Division! You’re doing an exceptional job, especially given the circumstances. I feel much better knowing you’re leading everyone right now. I don’t intend to keep you in such a position for long, though, and I’m sorry this is the way things have turned out. I want to support you, however I can.”

Genji is slow to smile, and his eyes become glassy. Hinamori senses it’s not from sorrow or concern. He bows his head to her. “Thank you, Lieutenant. But please, continue to rest and recover. Everyone is cheering you on.”

Hinamori swallows against the tightness building up in her throat. “Thank you. I’ll keep doing my best.”

__________________________________

The occasional whispers don’t escape her. Whether they’re just outside her door or window, or a simple look exchanged between two of her officers, she knows what they’re not saying to her

“I heard the Lieutenant is still unwell. I hope she gets better soon.”

“I only transferred to the Division a week before Aizen’s betrayal. It’s so sad here.”

“I wish Captain Aizen were here.”

“How can you say that?!”

“Isawa-san seems really tired these days.”

“Did you hear about the new plan? You think they’re trying to distract us from the war?”

“The Lieutenant seems to be in a bad way.”

“Don’t talk so harshly! Lieutenant Hinamori will recover, she’s strong. She'll definitely get better."

“…But what if she doesn’t?”

__________________________________

Why had she become a Shinigami?

It’s a question that floats to the surface of Hinamori’s mind almost every night while she tries to sleep. Every time, she pushes it away, afraid of how the answer will lead to Aizen.

__________________________________

Hinamori dreams of the first time she saw Tobiume. She’d come to her as a fire, small but steady, in middle of a dark space. When she’d walked towards it, Hinamori gradually felt dry grass beneath her feet, and her arms brushed branches and leaves. The air was cold, but warmed as she neared the flames. The strongest smell was of burning wood, but beneath it is the slightest hint of something sweeter and floral.

A voice had wafted from it, a whisper at first, then growing louder as she approached the fire. She couldn’t comprehend what the voice was telling her at the time, but she knew she needed to listen, that whatever it said was important.

When she came to a stop, the flames continued to dance in front of her, memorizing and strangely familiar. Going against every instinct she’d had from childhood, she reached out to the scorching heat. To her surprise – and a disappointment didn’t understand – the fire lurched away from her. She leaned further in, and still it avoided her, diving in and around her hand no matter which way she angled it.

The voice had stopped too, and save for the sizzling and crackling of the flames, there was silence.

When Hinamori wakes from this, she doesn’t feel relieved to have had a dream for once that wasn’t about Aizen. She dwells on the silence until it’s buzzing in her ears.

__________________________________

Though Hinamori rarely does so, she’s allowed to leave her room for brief periods. For her visit from Nanao today, she meets her in the Division's gardens. Sitting on a bench under a Japanese maple, the sun is warm on her face and hands and the breeze, though cool, is gentle. It's not usually this warm in September, but she's glad for it. It’s been a long time since she was outside, and she takes in long breaths of fresh air.

For a moment she wonders why she didn’t step outside more often, but maybe it was the nature of the restrictions put on her. It was meant to ensure her recovery, that she wouldn’t strain herself by going to far and making herself more fatigued than she already is. She can’t help but think it’s for another reason, one she dismisses quickly.

“I think you’ll find this one interesting for it’s plot.”

Hinamori takes the book from Nanao. “Petals on the Wind. It looks…different.”

“It’s from the World of the Living,” Nanao explains. “I got it when I was posted on a mission last time. It has an intriguing mystery that kept me guessing and a slow build up for the relationship between the two main characters. There’s references to events and devices from the World of the Living, however, so you may need to set it aside every now and then to do some research.”

Hinamori places it atop of the latest editions of Seireitei Communication at her side, then gestures to the second book Nanao holds, Another World Through a Flower Pot. “And that one?”

“It’s written by a former officer of the Ninth Division. It’s about the lives of two women, one from our world and the other from another world, who can communicate with each other through a flower pot.” At Hinamori’s raised brows, Nanao chuckles. “I know, it sounds strange, but it was oddly touching. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“I've always trusted your judgement.” Hinamori takes the other book and puts both of them in her lap. “Thank you for these, I really appreciate it. I’ve run out of books to read in my room.”

“It’s no trouble, I had a feeling that would be the case. You've always been a fast reader.” Nanao adjust her glasses, raising them further up the bridge of her nose. Behind them, her eyes are soft with sympathy. “We miss you at the Women’s Association meetings, and I miss our discussions about books.”

“Well, you’ll have to come by again once I finish these.” She pats the stack of books. “ I miss our discussions too, I don't get to talk about what I read with a lot of people. I’ll be sure to send a message to you when I’m done reading these.”

“Please do.” Nanao's smile slowly falls and she looks to the side, rueful. “I’m sorry, but I have to return to the barracks. Captain Kyoraku and I have to go over some reports, and you know how he can be.”

Hinamori can’t help but sigh. Despite the obvious hesitations from her fellow lieutenant – in her pauses before she spoke and the concern she would catch in her gaze at certain points --  this short time with her had been the closest thing to normal she’d experience in months.

“I understand,” she says while they both rise from the bench.

Nanao pauses mid turn. Pursing her lips, she looks back to Hinamori. “I know I asked before, but…are you really all right?”

Hinamori forces a smile. “I know how it may seem, but I really am much better than before. I’ll be back to my duties before you know it.”

Nanao puts on a forced smile of her own, unable to hide the concern from her eyes. “Of course.”

“I’m afraid I can’t accompany you to the main entrance, I’ve been told I shouldn’t go any further than the main barracks and it’s courtyards.”

“It’s quite all right, I’ll see myself out.” Nanao bows to her. “It was good to see you. I’ll be sure to visit when you've read the books."

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Hinamori watches her leave. As soon as her friend is out of sight, she falls back against the bench. This fatigue isn’t getting any better, but the weight in her mind is floating somewhere far away. She tries to keep it that way as she straightens and slowly returns to her room.

__________________________________

While reading the Seireitei Communication that evening, Hinamori gets stuck on the haiku poem submissions from Izuru. They all speak of nature, but differ in certain ways; one is about change, another about autumn, and another about the unknowable quality forests can have. As always, she enjoys them and can understand why he has a following for his writing.

She sometimes extends her sense to check on his reiatsu. When she can sense it, it’s as she’s always known it: a strange swirl, dark and weighed down, but not unfriendly.

She wonders if he ever contemplates coming to see her. She’d been told he came to visit her a twice while she was unconscious in Fourth Division. She’ll apologise for her actions when she next sees him. Knowing him, he will too.

Maybe they’ll just pick up where they left off, discussing their divisions’ matters and then move on to their hobbies or how they can get Renji to come with them for a dinner. They can reminisce about their Academy days. But given what happened, can they still do that?

No, she knows, it can’t be like that. They’re changed now. She considers him a friend still, and if him visiting her was any indication, he still does too, but there’s no telling what their friendship will look like now.

Maybe, if she’s brave enough and can see it won’t affect him too harshly, she can ask him how he’s coping with Ichimaru’s betrayal. It will be to comfort him as a friend, but selfishly, it’ll also be to see if she can learn anything from him. Did he have nightmares about what happened? Did he still cling to how Ichimaru used to be? Did he wonder why he betrayed them or believe he had a good reason to?

She shakes her head. She won't burden him with such questions. She already does it to herself, and it only makes her head heavy and her mind spiral far away from the present.

__________________________________

She often asks Genji if he’s heard word about how the advance team are doing in the World of the Living. He always shakes his head and says, “Nothing yet, Lieutenant.”

Why had they not received word from them? Were they struggling? Were they communicating with the Soul Society at all? They must be, otherwise there’d be rumblings amongst the captains and lieutenants and a new team would be sent to retrieve them. Was the information they were sharing something only the Captain-Commander is meant to know?

Sighing through her nose, Hinamori takes a sip of the tea Genji had brought her and leans back against her pillow. She watches the rainfall outside and listens to it pattering on the roof. It must be this weather that has her thinking about Hitsugaya.

The last time she saw him arises in her mind again. This time, however, she tries to recall his surroundings. She’d been so focused on him, they’re blurry, but she remembers a window and a floor similar to the ones in the Soul Society. There was a cabinet behind him, with photos on top and other items. Was there a small shrine there too?

Then there as what he wore. It was the first time she saw him wear anything from the World of the Living. If not for the gravity of the situation, she would’ve dwelled more on how strange he looked. She’s grown so accustomed him to seeing him in uniform and with his haori. Without them, he’s closer to looking like the Soul she first met the in Jurinan.

To think he’d once never wanted to be a Shinigami. He’d planned on staying with his Granny, taking care of her and their house. She wasn’t blind to the way he was treated, it dawned on her not long after she was seen with him in public. She never understood why he was ostracized by her friends and the Junrinan's residents, but in more recent years, she began to wonder if his powers had something to do with it.

Bowing her head, she looks at her reflection in the tea. She’s not like the girl from the Junrinan she once was. She seems so far away now, almost forgotten. Where did she go?

__________________________________

That night she again dreams of when Tobiume first came to her. Only this time, Hitsugaya is on the opposite side of the flames. He looks like how he did when they were children, his young face and his green yukata illuminated by the firelight. He looks into the flames, and doesn’t respond when she calls out his name.

He only takes notice of her when she’s at the fire.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks. She blinks at the sound of her voice. She sounds younger and looking down at her arms, they're shorter and her fingers lack callouses. Is she younger too?

 “You told me to come here,” he says, like it should be obvious.

She frowns at him. “I did?”

He slowly walks around the fire to stand at her side. “The others couldn’t make it,” he says, folding his arms. “They’re too busy.”

“Others?”

“Ayumi and Tatsukichi.”

“Oh…Why did I want us to gather here?”

His brow furrows deeper and gives a stuff shrug.

Hinamori looks around, but the firelight only shows the two them. “Did I also ask Kira-kun, Abarai-kun, and Rangiku-san to come?”

 “Who?”

“They’re my friends too.”

“I don’t know them.”

She doesn’t know why she asked. This is clearly a Hitsugaya from the past, but there’s something about him that doesn’t quite fit how she knew him at this age.

He jerks his chin at the fire. “This thing doesn’t like me.”

She blinks. “What do you mean?”

He pulls the sleeve back from his arm and raises it. There are rivulets of water running down his skin. “See?”

She acts on instinct and grabs his wrist to pull him away. She freezes when can sense rather see another presence. She subtly tries to search, but Hitsugaya still sighs. “What’s got you distracted?”

“Don’t move, Hitsugaya-kun.”

“Ha, you finally call me by name.”

“Shh!” Then, quieter. “There’s someone else here.”

Rather than the roll of his eyes and comment about her being paranoid like she expects, his eyes widen and his posture tenses. This alertness reminds her of the Hitsugaya she knows in the present. “Where?”

“I’m not sure, but they’re here.”

She can sense they intend to harm them. Heart racing, she thinks to search for a weapon but can’t see anything. She could feel around for and break off a root or a branch, but she knows it’ll be useless against whatever this is.

The fire, as if picking up on her panic, has become erratic. The flames dance in every direction and grow taller, twisting around as embers fly high into the darkness and fall around them.

Then it comes to her, as if it were the most obvious solution.

“Hitsugaya-kun, we need to get into the fire!”

Hitsuagaya stares at her as if she’s lost her mind. “What?!”

She’s already backing herself into it, and with her grip on his wrist, she’s pulling him along.

“Let go of me, Hinamori!” he yells, struggling to get out of her grasp.

“It’ll be okay, Shiro-chan,” she tries to reassure, even as she feels her hand slicken with the water forming on his arm.

Her back is scorching when she steps into the fire. Just as she knew, it doesn’t burn her. It feels right to be in here. She stops halfway in. “This fire will protect you,” she promises. “It’ll never hurt you.”

“We can’t go in there!” he yells. "You need to get out of there!"

It’s as if she snaps out of a trance. Despite how right it feels to be in these flames, it’s wrong to bring him in here. As a tear falls down her cheek, she releases her grip. Hitsugaya's arm, having struggled to break free, goes flying in an arc. Water drops fly off his limb and evaporate in the hot air.

This fire was ignited by her, but it’s not for her. It’s not Tobiume. The realization comes to her as a flare of pain races up from the soles of her feet up to her head. Then, from the darkness, another hand clasps Hitsugaya’s wrist. With a scream, she tries to reach for Hitsugaya from the flames. Her hand, though whole, feels as if it’s on fire.

“No!” she screams. “Let him go!”

Hitsugaya repeatedly smacks and kicks the attacker behind him, showing none of the combat training he'd learned for decades. It does nothing to loosen the grip they have on him. Then, above his head, there’s a cold smile from the being.

“I’m sorry!” she cries out to Hitsugaya as the being's face comes into the fire light. “I’m sorry!”

Hinamori flings up from her sleep with a strangled sound caught in her throat. Her arms are out in front, as if still reaching for her childhood friend. She stumbles into the bathroom to wash the thin sheen of sweat from her face and shaky arms. After changing into new robes, she lies back down a few minutes later.

She stares at the ceiling, watching it turn from dark grey to pale yellow as the sun rises.

__________________________________

The next day, Hirose, one of the Division’s Twelfth seats, comes by with a bunch of flowers. Hinamori can’t help but grin when receiving them, her mood lifting for an instance at the sight of the bright chrysanthemums and cosmos.

For a moment, there’s a sense of the old normality, but she tries to not let it stray too far into the past as she chats with her subordinate. It becomes harder when Hirose spots a vase on her bookcase and uses it to put the flowers into. It’s one she’d bought many years ago. She had hoped to one day put it on her desk when she became a Lieutenant, but it never left her old or current quarters.

__________________________________

It’s three days later when Hinamori is in the middle of reading one of Nanao’s novel and she remembers Rangiku’s birthday was yesterday. She hasn’t returned from her mission in the World of the Living, that gave Hinamori some time to think about what to give her when she was back. She can’t go out and buy anything, and she doesn’t want to trouble her officers with buying something on her behalf.

Hinamori puts the books aside, then with some effort, rises and slips out of her bed. On unsteady legs she comes to her bookcase. She’d read most of the novels stacked on the shelves, but would Rangiku be interested in any of them? She isn’t much a reader, and what little she does read is often limited to magazines and short novels packed with either melodrama or light-hearted content. None of Hinamori’s books contain either of those things, and the only magazines she had were old copies of the Seireitei Communication – ones that feature articles or creative contributions from her friends.

She glances at the purple vase on the middle shelf, still with Hirose’s flowers in it. A few days on, they’re beginning to lose their vitality, with several petals already drooping and fading in colour, and their sweet scent is developing a sour undercurrent.

Next to it are tiny figurines, a gift from Hitsugaya and Rangiku for her birthday a few years ago. They are of a boy, short-haired and in a blue kimono, and a girl, pig-tailed and in a floral white and red kimono. Their proportions are reduced to two spheres each – smaller ones for their heads and bigger ones for their bodies. They stand next to her each on their tiny platform and beam at her. For a moment, she can’t help but smile back at them. To this day, they still remind her of her and Hitsugaya when they were children. She’d even been tempted to paint the boys hair white not long after receiving them, but was too embarrassed by the idea.

There’s nothing here she wants to part with, and she scolds herself of even thinking of giving Rangiku something she has here rather than give her something new.

Her gaze floats down to and lingers on the sketchbooks on the bottom shelf. Perhaps she can draw her something, but what? Hinamori had always wanted Rangiku to sit for her to draw her portrait. Or maybe a simple letter, apologising for actions and telling her how much her friendship means in times like this. It isn’t much, but it will have to do for now.

Withholding a wince, she bends down and takes out the newest sketchbook. As she straightens, she opens to a blank page. But it’s not. It’s of a drawing, one that gives her pause. Then, sends a wave of nausea through her and a slip of cold rippling her back. Her breath catches in her throat, and she drops the book as if were on fire.

It doesn’t snap shut, falling with the portrait facing up. One of many, she knows. She stumbles back to her bed, almost tripping over her own feet and unable to look away from her drawing of Aizen. He smiles serenely at her, that peaceful expression she always associated with him. She barely hears Tobiume’s cries over her heart racing in her ears. In that moment, the memory of him smiling coldly at her overlays it for a flash.

She collapses on to her bed, then scrambles for the window and throws it open, heaving a lungful of air. She fights against the urge to throw up, covering her mouth.

“Lieutenant!”

Higuchi, her Seventh's seat, and Genji stand in the courtyard below her window, doused in the orange light of the setting sun and in the middle of a conversation until she forced her window open. In her peripheral, officers and new recruits had been trailing into the main barracks, but stopped at Genji’s alarmed cry.

“Hold on, I’ll be there!” Genji calls out as he rushes to the nearest barracks entrance. Higuchi hesitates, then sprints to follow his superior. Most of the officers and recruits move on, but a few linger, exchanging worried and knowing glances.

When Genji and Higuchi reach her room, Higuchi guides her to her bathroom. Still, Hinamori peers over her shoulder at Genji. He stares at the sketchbook on the floor, unmoving and unblinking, wide-eyed. Slowly, he picks it up. Sorrow flickers across his face, but as Higuchi leaves her and shuts the door behind himself -- upon her weak instance to do so -- her Third seat’s face turns to something stony.

She wishes she had Genji’s strength.

The next several minutes pass in a blur. She emerges from the bathroom several minutes later, her stomach emptied and a foul taste lingering in her mouth despite washing it out. While Higuchi helps her settle back in, Genji hurriedly leaves and returns with a glass of water. She has no appetite and requests that noone prepare her dinner. Higuchi, ever paternal, still insists on at least a bowl of chestnut rice, and too fatigued to put up a fight, she agrees to it.

It’s not until her officers reluctantly leave the room she notices the sketchbook has been put back in it’s place. She can’t stand to look at any of them. How foolish she’d been. Had she not been hesitant to look at them weeks ago?

He’s in all of them. And not just there; he’d given her some of the novels lining her shelves, with small messages written on the first page of each.

Tomorrow, she’d ask Genji to move them and the sketchbooks into her closet. She tries to ignore the thought of her cowardice, that she would ask another to this instead of doing it herself. She wants to cry, but can’t find the strength to do so.

At some point, an officer brings her a small bowl of chestnut rise. She doesn't take a mouthful until it’s gone cold and the sky has darkened to night. When another officer comes back, it’s not even half eaten. It sits in her stomach, lying there like she does. Suspended somewhere, heavy and immoveable.

That night Hinamori watches her alarm clock tick over from the last day of September to the first day of October. Another month closer to winter.

__________________________________

Ever since the incident with the sketchbook, she has lain in bed doing little but eat and sleep. She couldn’t even focus on reading or having conversations with officers who came to visit or bring her meals. Genji never brought up the sketchbook, and like others, he became more wary of his words and his gaze ranged from pity to disquiet, more obvious than before.

Isane comes to check on her every few days. They check her physical condition, then she asks her the usual questions designed to her to speak her mind. She's more happy to see her friend than she is divulge how she feels; it should feel as though she were getting things off her chest and letting go of the weights in her mind and limbs. It helps in the moment, but when Isane leaves and Hinamori is left alone, it returns quickly.

She’s never been so tired in her life, nor so heavy in the mind. It becomes worse at night, especially when everyone but her is asleep.

Now, two weeks from the incident, it's no different. She stares out at the gap between the curtains, searching for the stars between the gaps in the clouds.

She faintly recalls star gazing with Hitsugaya when they were children, and even more recently. It's had been last year on her birthday, with her and her other friends. They'd all gone out to dinner, but Hitsugaya only joined them for the stargazing. To see everyone there, happy to be with each other, knowing they could turn to each other when needed, it made the moment one of the happiest memories she has.

It stands in stark contrast to now. Can they go back to days like that? No, not go back. Can days like that happen again in the future?

The thought does not bring the usual self-pity and hopelessness. It sparks something at the back her mind. It's enough to make her want to move.

With what little strength she has, she slides to the edge of her bed and reaches for Tobiume. In the silence, her zanpakuto’s reiatsu becomes a small fire, warm and comforting. The fact she does this, after barely speaking a word to her master, makes a lump form in Hinamori’s throat.

Taking her weapon, she scoots away from the edge, rolls on to her opposite side and lays her zanpakuto over her comforter. Keeping a hand on the scabbard, she shuts her eyes. Tears fall from them not long after.

Hours later, she sleeps without dreams. She wonders if Tobiume somehow blocked them from her, or maybe, she’d reached a state where she’s too afraid to dream but too exhausted to force herself away from rest.

Regardless, she sleeps through the whole night for the first time in months.

__________________________________

It’s a surprisingly warm day, with a gentle breeze blowing through her room and not a cloud in the sky.

Rather than watch the shadows of the dancing curtains, Hinamori closes her eyes and enjoys the warmth. It penetrates through her skin, touching her bones. A glimmer of peace briefly sparks in her heart. It’s like rediscovering a lost but fond memory, or coming back to an old friend.

She at once clings to that ember of peacefulness, but also allows the lump her throat to form and the tears to quietly course down her face. They are not the same as ones she’d shed last night or in the last few weeks when she was alone. They are not of guilt or sadness or hopeless or denial.

Something freeing, something that felt like the unlocking of a door, but not yet the opening of it.

__________________________________

“They’ve really improved with their kido. Even so, I know they miss you’re training lessons.”

Hinamori smiles out at the field of recruits practicing their kido on targets against the far wall. It's most natural smile she's given in a while.

“I miss giving demonstrations,” she admits to Genji. “They’ve all come a long way, the instructor has been teaching them well.”

He grins. “I’ll be sure to pass that feedback on to him.”

They stand above the training grounds on one of the balconies. Even though her mood had been low, Hinamori decided that morning she needed to leave her room. Genji had been hesitant at first, but she brought him around when she reminded him of Isane's recommendation that she get fresh air whenever she felt up to walking around.

Even so, he'd given her a blanket to wrap around her shoulders against the cold winds. It ruffles in the wind now, and she’d rather throw it off, but she knows the officer would worry if she did.

She and Genji continue to watch the recruits in silence. She makes notes for each one, from their postures while casting spells to the resulting beams that strike the targets. She’s heartened to hear the cheers and claps when someone hits a target, and mostly sympathetic encouragement when someone doesn’t. There’s still a sense of comradery, much more so than when she’d been advised to rest months ago.

Still, she doesn’t fail to notice two recruits sitting on the sidelines. They’re waiting their turn, but one of them bows her head. Her friend puts a hand on her shoulder, and it’s as if something in her breaks. She folds into herself and her frame shakes.

Another recruit comes over and kneels before her. He asks her what happened, and Hinamori can catch pieces of what she says. “It’s…I haven’t been able to…Aizen.”

However, her other friend nods sympathetically. “I’ve also been finding it hard.”

“We all have,” says the other. “We…and Fifth Division…stand strong.”

“Oh no,” Genji says under his breath.

“Do you know that recruit?” Hinamori asks without looking away from the scene.

“No, she's new, but…” He can’t finish his sentence. He turns towards the entrance they’d come out of. “I’ll go and see what’s happened.”

Hinamori remembers the whispers, had caught glimpses of low moral from outside her window as officers came and went in the courtyards. She's certain Genji has had to deal with situations like this on an almost daily basis since Aizen left them behind. Something about this moment is different, however, and she can’t stand by and watch anymore.

“No,” she says firmly. “I’ll go.”

Genji frowns at her. “Are you sure? I can handle this.”

She shakes her head and offers a small smile. “How about we both go, then.”

By the time they get to training grounds, the three recruits have been joined by a few more. The concern they show warms Hinamori’s heart, and she’s slow to approach them.

One notices her, then another, and soon, everyone’s eyes are on her. They speak her rank and name, most bowing, other’s too surprised to do so. Seeing them all, up close for the first time in over a month, something shifts in her. The warmth in her chest dims, and in it’s place is something contracting.

She’s seen gazes like this before, on battlefields and in scenes of destruction. Shinigami looking to her for orders, Souls looking for answers. They’re shocked by her unannounced appearance, but just as quickly, they’re seeking from her. It’s the same gazes they gave to Aizen, looking to him, up to him. Knowing he would lead them to right place, to sooth their hearts and deal punishment to Hollows who threatened their world.

He would go against the laws if meant championing a greater good. She keeps staring at her subordinates, and for the first time in far too long, anger simmers in the pit of her stomach.

What good reason would he have to leave us behind?

“L-Lieutenant Hinamori.”

She snaps out of her reverie. The crying recruit, still supported by her friend at her side, bows her head. “I-I…F-Forgive me, I-I’m not…”

Hinamori breathes, her shoulders rising a fraction before lowers. Then she bows her to. “It’s all right. I didn’t mean to draw attention.” Then, straightening up and addressing everyone. “I was watching your progress with Isawa-san. I didn’t want to interrupt your training, forgive me.” When no one speaks, she thinks to fill the silence. “I know I haven’t been present for the last month, but I can see you’ve all greatly improved. When I’m in better health, I hope return to giving demonstrations and assist you in becoming even better.”

She’s emboldened by the smiles and nods from some around her. “I know these three months have been hard on everyone,” she says, loud enough that her voice echoes around the training grounds. “It hasn't escaped me, and I am deeply sorry that I have not been there to lead you all. I am getting better...but Fifth Division is nothing without it's officers. Without your all of support and strength, we would not be where we are today. So, please, keep going, and we can continue to make Fifth Division a great place to be!"

The speech doesn't draw an enthusiastic response, but most are smiling and nodding and few even cheer. If she'd been more prepared, she's certain she could've come up with better words.

While Genji directs everyone else back to the kido training, Hinamori turns her back to the weeping recruit. "What's your name?"

"Tanaka Mai, Lieutenent," the recruit responds.

"How long have you been with the Fifth Division, Tanaka-san?"

"Three months."

"I see...I'm sorry it's been like this for you."

"Ah, no, please Lieutenant, y-you don't need to apologise." She glances at her supporting friend, and then at the other who had knelt before her. Fresh tears well up in her eyes. "I looked up to him, Lieutenant. I wanted to be like him."

It hits Hinamori's heart, and she can feel the cracks web through her whole body. For a flicker, she sees younger self in this recruit. And not just her, in her friends too, who have similar crestfallen expressions as her.

She can't be here. She doesn't know what to say without also breaking into tears.

She bows, her hair falling and obscuring her face. "I understand." Then, abruptly rising, she turns in her heel and marches to Genji. "Isawa-san!"

Genji's concern makes her wince inwardly, but she quickly instructs him assist and apologize to Tanaka and her friends on her behalf. She departs in an instant, needing more space and air. She ends up in the courtyard outside of her room. She wipes the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks as she paces around the maple tree and bench. A few officers pass by the courtyard, and she offers a weak greeting to them, and then in turn bow and are quick to move along, sensing it wasn't the best time to speak with their lieutenant.

After several minutes she comes to a stop and ends up looking at her bedroom window. She'd sat behind it for months, rarely coming outside. Rarely thinking of anything beyond what had happened.

She sense Genji approaching before she sees him.

"Lieutenant," he says softly as he approaches. "Are you all right?"

She doesn't turn to him. "I'm sorry for how I reacted back there. If I had prepared myself better, I would have been able to handle it."

"No, it's understandable, you don't have to apologize. Please, don't think about it."

"I have to, as their Lieutenant."

He doesn't argue, because on some level, he must know she's right. On some level, he may even resent having to step up to higher duties, and she wouldn't blame him.

For a minute in the silence between them, she shuts her eyes. They burn, and her mind whirls with the threat of panic and having too many heavy thoughts tumbling around. She breahtes, takes in the fresh air, just as Isane said she should.

There's no going back now.

“Isawa-kun.” She turns back to her Third seat. “Captain Aizen…he really betrayed us.”

She’d wanted to end it as a question – he really betrayed us, didn’t he? –but she needs it to be a statement, as much to herself as to show Genji her acceptance.

He tenses, and when his gaze darts away, it strikes her that maybe his hesitancy this whole time had not just been out of concern to her. He had shown determination when looking at her portrait of Aizen, but maybe, like her false smile, it was his way of facing this. She was not blind to her Division’s suffering, to the effect his betrayal had on all of them, but had she somehow underestimated how deeply it ran?

“Yes, he did.” There’s the slightest waver in Genji's voice. It’s enough to make Hinamori bow her head to him.

“I’m sorry for leaving you with so much work. I said before I would get better, and it’s taken me so long To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I can lead us out of this.”

Genji stumbles for words, but when she raises her head, he’s rendered speechless. She hopes her expression convey her will to right the wrongs Aizen left behind. “But I won’t give up. I am still the Lieutenant of the Fifth Division, and I want to continue to be. I will need you and other seated officers’ advice once I recover. Together, we can bring the Fifth Division back and help everyone.”

Genji's eyes brighten. He ducks his head, and again his voice catches. “Of course, Lieutenant Hinamori.”

__________________________________

Why had you become a Shinigami?

The question emerged six days ago, and for the first time in weeks. Today, it comes to Hinamori while she eats breakfast and causes her to stop chewing. Rather than push it away, she clings to it. It’s the only thought that isn’t of her past actions, the pity of those around her, or of Aizen. The question is a glimmer in this darkness, a tiny speck of light that promised something more than the ruminations swirling around constantly day and night. If she’s going to get better, this seems like the best place to start.

When she reflected on it in the last week, the thought ended up leading to her former captain just as she'd feared, but she is quick to divert him away.

Now, setting her breakfast aside, she crosses her legs and places Tobiume in front of them, making her zanpakuto a focal point to concentrate on. It’s almost like jinzen, but without the full connection to her zanpakuto to enter her inner world.

A meditative trance comes over her, causing her to let out a long, deep breath. There had been a reason before Aizen, before she even got accepted into the Academy. It was more vaguely defined, tinged with childish optimism and naivety, and somehow it persisted well into her first days in the Fifth Division, even after the horrific things she’d been on battlefields. Even after realising the gap between the wealthy families and those who came for the lower districts. Even when faced with realities that came with being a Shinigami, that she could not save every life or help every Soul.

You wanted to be a light.

Her zanpakuto’s interruption doesn’t startle her. She’d felt her presence in the back of her mind, mediating with her on the question.

“I wanted to help others,” she rasps. “I thought the Shinigami who brought me here was one of the kindest people I met…” She sniffs, throat tightening on the verge of a sob. “I don’t even remember what they look like now.”

It’s natural for a Soul to forget their time in the World of the Living and how they arrived at the Soul Society.

“It was considered strange that I kept my memories for as long as I did.”

She senses Tobiume nod. You wanted to find that Shinigami who led you here.

“I never did.”

It stopped bothering you at some point. Not long after you met your friends.

The faces of Izuru, Renji, and Rukia come to mind briefly. It feels like more decades ago than it was when they first met. They weren't the first Souls she met with the same potential as her, but with Renji and Izuru in particular, she knew not long after meeting them she would still be friends with them for many decades to come. Maybe it had been the few personal interests that had intersected, or that they were just the first fellow students they really spoke to in the Academy.

Truthfully, she thinks it's because of the fight they put up against the Hollows in the training mission that had gone wrong. She had run into the fray against the Huge Hollows, and they'd followed. Somewhere in that back her mind in that moment, she knew she would fight back to back with either of them. If they were willing to follow her into a battle like this, even when she made a sudden decision as that, or to protect someone none of them has really known, she wanted them to stay in her life.

But after that battle, when Aizen and Ichimaru had come to save them, it all changed. She resists the urge to stop thinking there, to keep pushing through and see this train of thought to it's end.

Yes, her and Izuru in particular had changed. It had been a gradual thing, taking place over a month or so, with all three of them unable to forget what happened, but with Hinamori and Izuru learning more about the two Shinigami who saved them. Izuru's motivation shift slightly, going from becoming a Shimigami to appease his family's wishes, to wanting to serve under the men who had saved them.

For Hinamori, it was almost a seismic shift; her goal changed to wanting to serve under Aizen, and maybe even become his lietuenant. It was almost a trenous thought at the time, hoping with Ichimaru would step down as his lieutenant. She'd never forget the burst of hope that filled her when he announced that he was moving on to become Third Division's captain; she'd been a Fourth seat then.

Looking back now, it's strange her first thoughts after a life-treatenign situation were of Aizen and Ichimaru, and not of Hisagi ro thanking either of her freinds for coming to assist. She had been younger the, but even so, she would've hoped she had the capacity to at least think of thanking them. Renji had known better, would rarely talk about either man afterwards and would wonder how Hisagi was doing or how either her or Izuru could become so awestruck by Aizen or Ichimaru.

"I changed after that day," she reiterates, shaking her head to herself. "That's all it took."

You were younger then, Tobiume offers, and inexperienced. You flew in to save someone in need. Doesn't that align with your original intentions?

Back then, she had gone to help Hisagi without a second thought and despite her fear. She didn't know him, but he was injured and out-numbered. She couldn't leave him. It went against everything she stood for.

She thought Aizen had stood for those same things. It's one of the reason she had admired him so deeply. She saw who she thought was the embodiment of everything she wanted to be, but believed she could only ever become a pale imitation of him. He had been too good, too perfect in many ways.

But even as she served under him, had she not still wanted to help others? Had it always been because she wanted to impress him or try to be like him? A lot of those instances had been without his presence or knowledge. The back of her eyes burn.

"I never lost it," she realises, voice becoming raspy. "Even now, I still want to..." I want to help others. I want to help my friends.

He had become her reason to reach the level she had, but he hadn't taken away her original goal. If he hadn't taken that away, maybe she he hadn't taken other things with him.

With a sob, she bends over Tobiume. A tear lands on her scabbard, and another on her quilt. She rubs her eyes and Tobiume soothes her in the back of her mind.

I told you, she says, you're stronger than you know. You still have these skills, master. They never left you.

After several minutes, Hinamori calms her sobs. She brings up Tobiume and presses her forehead to her hilt. "I'm so sorry, Tobiume. Thank you, thank you..."

A zanpakuto, she recalls from one of her instructors, is a reflection of their wielder. When you communicate with your weapon, you are communicating with yourself.

How had she not realised it sooner? She had been so focused on him, she didn't see what was still within her and in front of her. She still had her friends, her subordinates, and in time, she would strengthen herself again. She didn't know how for the latter, but she had been working the other two, albeit in a fumbling and unsure manner.

That sensation, of the unlocked but still closed door returned. Now, the handle turns, and she doesn't know what lies on the otherwise, but she will face it.

He had his reasons for betraying them, whatever they were, but he had not taken her own reasons to stay on as lieutenant of the Fifth Division.

__________________________________

It’s two days later when the zanjutsu instructor is back in the dojo, yelling just as loud as the last time.

There is no breeze today, or birds chirping in a nearby tree, and most of the leaves have fallen from the trees. It’s all she can hear.

On unsteady legs, she rises from bed and manages to bend over and grab Tobiume’s hilt.

Master? Her zanpakuto questions.

Hinamori slowly comes to the middle of her room, barely managing to stand straight. “Let’s practice.”

Are you sure?

“You told me I do not need pity.”

Something flared through Tobiume; it felt like a hope and a determined smirk. Good!

Hinamori assumes the stance the officers in to dojo below have. She positions her feet, steady on the ground, and holds Tobiume with both hands, the sheathed blade’s tip pointing towards the ceiling. She breaths in and out deeply, trying to dispel the weight in her mind and tremors running through her limbs.

She listens to the instructor and the officers responding cries. Not wanting to draw attention for the fear of an officer rushing in thinking something’s wrong, she keeps her mouth closed and follows the movements they would.

On her first swing, she loses her balance and topples to the side, landing on her bed. She ignores Tobiume's concerned cries and gets back up. "I'm fine," she tries to reassure. "I just have to keep going. Believe in me, Tobiume."

She definitely rusty, continually losing her footing in the first volley of practice strikes, but she does not let it deter her. She keeps raising her sword and bringing it down, falling back, then stepping forward doing it again and again.

It becomes a rhythm; then, at some point, muscle memory. She forgets about the weight in her limbs and mind, and she’s more free than she’s ever been.

_________________________________

Hinamori wakes an hour before the sun rises. Not feeling the urge to shut her eyes again, she gets out of bed and takes up Tobiume. She sneaks to a training ground -- one away from the barracks that house her subordinate -- and performs her zanjutsu training.

The extra space allows her to arc her zanpakuto higher and her foot work to go further around.

She’s never felt so free. The thought makes her stop. She lowers Tobiume to her side.

She’s been doing this for almost two weeks in secret. Why did she have to hide this? Wouldn’t it be encouraging for her subordinates to see her up like this?

The thought of her turning up to training gives her an unexpected anxiety. It comes with thoughts of unsure gazes and the dread that she would not be able to show them she was getting better. What if she slipped in her foot work? What if fatigue made her movements sluggish?

I can’t risk them knowing about this, she thinks. I’ll keep training, but…

One step at a time, master.

__________________________________

It's four days later when she makes way down to the Fifth Divison's library. It's the late hours of the night, when everyone is asleep. She takes a lantern with her and uses it to browse the shelves. There's no new books in the ficision section, but that hadn't been why she'd come down here.

She rounds the corner and ends up with the instructions and guides. She grabs the tomb she needs, then rushes back to her room. It of the kido spells, most of which she already knows. Still she studies the guide as if she were back in the Academy.

In the coming days, after she hones her zanjutsu skills in the early hours of the morning, she practices the hands movements and chants the incantations in her mind before breakfast. When she's certain she has memorized enough spells, she begins to study how they can be combined. She'd come up with combinations in the past, but she'll need stronger ones for the upcoming war.

She's caught out of bed practicing her hand movements and mouthing a chant by Isane almost a week later. An awkward silence passes between the two, and all Hinamori can do is sheepishly look at the tray Isane holds with her breakfast on it. Eventually, her fellow lieutenant smiles and says "You seem to be in good spirits, Hinamori-san."

After a bout of surprised laughter, Hinamori replies, "I, uh...I wanted to get back into the basics, I suppose. I'm not actually casting them of course!"

They go on to have a rather lively conversation about kido. Perhaps it's not as big a deal as Hinamori thought. If anything, it might show the Fourth Division's lieutenant that she's on the mend. Soon, she might be able to face her subordinates in one of their training sessions.

__________________________________

Doing all of this practice isn't enough to make her completely forget what happened, nor does it draw away the heaviness completely.

Even so, she feels stronger. No longer are her footsteps shaky and she can sleep through most nights. She's getting better, and it's a revelation she can't fully believe some days.

Her subordinates notice something is different about her. They visit more often, telling her about what's been happening in their personal lives, and she steps outside more often, even sitting in on one of Hirose's gardening groups.

Today, she watches them come and go in the courtyard, and she can tell the mood in the Division is shifting. The only strange thing is Genji seems to be attending more meetings in the afternoon.

She can't stop, she reaffirms to herself. She has to keep going. It's nearly the end of October; the war will be on the horizon soon.

__________________________________

“Good morning, Lieutenant.”

Hinamori can’t help but frown when her Tenth seat enters carrying her breakfast. “Imai-san.”

“Apologies, Isawa-san usually brings your meals on Friday morning, doesn’t he?”

Hinamori nods. “It’s not a problem. Is he unwell?”

Imai shakes her head and lays the tray across Hinamori’s lap. She notes two of her subordinate's red-painted nails are chipped. “He had to attend an emergency meeting.”

Hinamori’s eyes widen. “Has something happened?”

“No. He didn’t say much, but he mention that the advance team have returned.”

“Thank you, Imai-san.” Then, remembering. “And please thank whoever made this for me.”

“Of course, Lieutenant. Please enjoy.” After her Fourth seat leaves, Hinamori can barely eat with the butterflies in her stomach. Hitsugaya and the others have returned.

She casts out her senses, and sure enough, Hitsugaya’s reiatsu is there. Slightly more faint, shes sense Rangiku’s and Renji’s near him. If she had to guess, they’re all in First Division meeting hall.

Would they come visit?

Why would they?

Her shoulders deflate. After what happened, she wouldn’t blame Hitsugaya for being hesitant. Why has she even thought he would?

More importantly, why had they returned? Was their mission over? What had they discovered about the enemy? About these Arrancars? She’d only heard snippets and rumors spreading amongst her officers in their whispers and conversations they have while passing her room or below her window.

She munches on her breakfast, unable to cast the thoughts aside.

Later, Imai comes to collect her tray. She’s disappointed again when it’s Higuchi rather than Genji who serves her lunch to her. The day turns to sunset, and when there’s a knock, she can’t help but eagerly call out, “Come in!”

Sure enough, Genji has her dinner. “Good evening, Lieutenant Hinamori.”

“It’s good to see you Isawa-kun.”

He comes to the stand at her bedside, but doesn’t lay the tray down. “Sorry about this morning, I had to attend an emergency captain and lieutenant’s meeting.”

“Yes, Imai-san told me.”

Genji lowers the tray to her lap, and rather than make small talk or excuse himself to leave, he lingers at her bedside.

Hinamori isn't surprised by the awkward pause. Still, she had hoped she wouldn't need to prompt Genji. Had the Captain-Commander instructed Genji to not tell her what was discussed? Or was Genji simply concerned about the effect debriefing her would have?

Knowing him, it's the latter.

"Isawa-kun, whatever happened at the meeting, I want to know," she says, gently. "I am still a Lieutenant of the Gotei Thirteen, and if it concerns the Fifth Division, I wish to know. If you're not allowed to speak about it, however, I understand and I will consult with Lieutenant Sasakibe if I need to."

Genji frowns at the floor. After letting out a long, silent breath, his gaze reaches hers. "The Advance Team returned from the World of the Living. Captain Hitsugaya gave a full report on their battles in the World of the Living. These Arrancar, Lieutenant...they are strong."

Hinamori lips part at the news, unsure how to respond, but she nods for him to continue.

"They returned in light of a human, Inoue Orihime, is believed to have sided with the Arrancars."

"W-What?" Hinamori stammers out. Then, she recognises the name. "She was one of the Ryoka that tried to save Kuchiki-san. How do they know she has betrayed us?"

"She was training in the Soul Society only yesterday with Captain Ukitake and Kuchiki-san. Captain Ukitake was the last to see her before she vanished. However, she made it back to the World of Living, evidenced by her healing one of Kurosaki Ichigo's wounds while he was asleep."

Hinamori can only shake her head. This conflict had inspired acts of betrayal from all sides. Why would she do this?

Noticing Genji's hesitation, she decides to put the matter aside for now. “Go on, Isawa-kun. Is there something else?"

He nods, but doesn't continue right away. He loosk out her window, at the gatherings of officers in the courtyard, having either come back from missions or outings to the Rukongai. “We know who will be required to attend the battle against Captain Aizen and the Arrancars.”

Hinamori's hand flies to her throat when it involuntarily clamps up.

“It will only be captains and lieutenants. All ranks Third seat and below will remain in the Soul Society while the captains and lieutenants wait in the fake Karakura Town.”

“I-I see.” A thought occurs to her in horror. “That doesn’t mean you will have to be on the battlefield in my place, does it?”

“Ah, no! The Captain-Commander assured me that no one from Fifth Division is expected to be there.”

No one from Fifth Division should go with them, is what he really means she suspects. They could compromise the battle, serve only as a weakness to the Gotei Thirteen’s forces. She tries to ignore the tiny furl of bitterness in the pit of her stomach. Surely this order came from a place caring, too. “That’s a relief.”

Genji nods.

“And what did you mean by ‘fake Karakura Town’?”

“The Captain Commander wants all officers to fight at their full capacity. To avoid human causalities and any destruction to Karakura Town, Twelfth Division used Tenkai Kecchu to create a copy. The real Karakura Town will be transported to the edge of the Rukongai when the enemy is expected to make their move.”

She’s never heard of the technique. She’s about to ask what it is when Genji raises his hand.

“Please, Lieutenant, you should eat.” She wants to insist on knowing, but when his gaze falls to the ground, she notices how slumped his shoulders are. He’s weary, and likely feels guilty for having told her about the upcoming battle. “I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have burdened you with all of this, especially this late.”

Hinamori watches her Third seat for a moment longer, then takes up the chopsticks. “Thank you Isawa-kun. I appreciate that you told me this, and that you brought me dinner.”

Genji manages a faint smile before he bows and leaves without another word. Hinamori lets the chopsticks fall back to the tray and stares into space for so long her food gets cold by the time she remembers to eat it.

__________________________________

Hinamori can't get the plan out of her mind. It follows her in her training and even as she eats her meals. Did it mean the Captain-Commander foresaw the conflict happening sooner than expected? Or is he simply planning ahead to catch the enemy offguard?

She had brought it up with Isane on her latest visit, but her fellow Lieutenant couldn't offer much more than Genji had. Hinamori took some comfort in seeing she too was worried the conflict might be coming to them sooner than they'd hoped.

At night, Hinamori can't help but imagine the scenario before she shuts her eyes to try and sleep. The captains and lieutnenants facing Aizen, Ichimaru, Tosen, and the Arrancars. It meant her friends would be there. Izuru and Hisagi would have to stand on the same battlefield as the captains who they'd once served. No one from Fifth would be there to confront Aizen.

It's a relief none of her subordinates had to be involved, but that bitterness from her conversation with Genji always finds a way to influence her thoughts. Everyone on that battlefield will be expecting her to stay here, recovering from everything that's happened. They think she's at her weakest physically and mentally.

I've done little to show them otherwise, she thinks pitifully while practicing the hand movements for a kido net spell.

You still can, master, Tobiume tries to encourage.

How do you mean?

When Tobiume doesn't answer immediately, Hinamori halts her practice and waits. Her zanpakuto spirit's answer makes her frown.

You've been thinking about it, whether you've realised it or not.

__________________________________

It's two days later when Hinamori dreams of the fire. She’s alone with it again, and it's calmer than before. There is no threat, but still she steps into the flames.

She goes in facing it, letting it wash over her face first, then her torso, then her arms and legs. This time, she knows for certain these flames are hers and hers alone. Tobiume's voice echoes around her, saying too many things at once, but somehow Hinamori can understand it all.

This is where she should wake up, for a presence enters her space again. It's same one as last time, and she's terrified to turn and face him.

He won't leave unless I face him, she realises.

She looks to the flames around her, brushing over her limbs and whipping through her hair. She tries to take strength from them as she turns.

He stands on the other side, smiling. He reaches for her, but she steps back. The flames grow in intensity, whipping against the intruders hand. he doesn't flinch away, however. His hand remains hovering in the fire, and she can only watch as it starts to burn his flesh. He still smiles at her.

Not long after Hinamori opens her eyes, she cringes and grabs hold of Tobiume before marching towards the training grounds. Tobiume rages with her, the heat of her flames coursing through Hinamori's veins. Her slashes through the sky and attacks on a training dummy are harsh and brittle.

She's certain before she awoke her heart had been pulled in a violent tug of war between letting him burn or pushing his hand out of the flames to safety.

_________________________________

She returns to her room as the sun begins to rise. Tobiume is silent, but Hinamori can sense her presence in the back of her mind. It's as if she's waiting on something from her.

What is it, Tobiume? she asks.

Her zanpakuto's spirit says nothing still. She's usually quick to speak her mind, prompted or not.

Hearing an officer from down the hallway, she decides to leave it and quickly returns back to bed. Had they seen her just now?

She frowns when she dtects the officer's reiatsu and notices his footsteps are hurried. Genji runs past her door and down the stairs. She parts the curtains in time to see him rushing across the courtyard towards the Division's main entrance. A Hellbutterly follows in his wake.

Something has happened.

_________________________________

For the next hour, Hinamori alternates between pacing around her room and sitting and waiting for Genji to return. Anxious jitters thrum through her, threaten to break limbs out into quivers and shakes. She casts her senses out, but he's still in the First Division.

The sun has risen and most officers make their way to the mess hall for breakfast. No one is alarmed that Genji is not there, likely thinking he's either out running errands or getting breakfast elsehwhere.

They don't anticipate the news she already knows.

The war is here. She can sense it in the air, as though a lock had been snapped open, unable to hold back what it tried to contain. It’s in the way the reiatsu she can sense at First Division all waver, heightening and decreasing in intensity. It’s the only explanation she can think of.

 With a shaky breath, she stops in the middle of her room. How will she react with Genji gives her the news? How will her Division react? No doubt some will want to go out to the battlefield, but most, she thinks, will be tense. The outcome of this battle didn’t just determine the fate of the Worlds they protect. It was a battle against the captain they once followed, the man that betrayed them and left them shattered in their wake. A being powerful enough to fool everyone and leave the Soul Society unscathed.

She again replays the battlefield scenario in her mind. Her friends, zanpakuto drawn, staring down Aizen and his accomplices. They’ll get hurt, may not even come out of this alive. It’s an inevitability she faces every time any of them go to battle. It’s as much a part of her life as eating or breathing.

She returns to sitting on the edge of her bed. Her fingers dig in and clutch the fabric of her robes, white-knuckled. She’s expected to stay here while the fate of the Soul Society and her friends is decided. Her division is expected to stay out of the way, when their former captain is one leading an attack on them.

She thinks back to that day Nanao came to visit, when she had briefly wondered by she didn’t step outside of her room more often. She hadn’t wanted to give the thought any credence, but it had stuck itself to the back of her mind. On some level she sees the restrictions as an imposition,  as an attempt to keep her under watch. She had played along with it, remaining where she needed to be and doing as she was instructed. It was why the training she did in secret was so liberating.

She shakes her head. It was this sort of thinking that got her into the situation she was in now. She has no one to blame but herself for her past actions, and perhaps they were right to enact these restrictions for that reason.

But they are her actions.

He won't leave unless I face him.

She turns her head to her weapon, laying on to of her quilt. Tobiume, she beckons.

Her zanpakuto’s spirit makes her presence known in Hinamori’s mind, but says nothing.

“Is this what you meant?” she says. “That I have been thinking about ignoring everything to go and confront Captain Aizen?”

Tobiume again says nothing, but a flare of reiatsu comes from her blade. It’s as good as saying ‘yes’.

Hinamori lets out a long breath, as though finally getting something she had on her chest for months. It'd be reckless, no better than when she blindly followed Aizen's wishes when she thought him dead. How can she confront him?

With a grunt she forces the thought away. Her stomach roils and her heart thumps against her chest. She can’t stay here, waiting and hoping. She has to go to the fight. Had she not been training for this very moment?

There will be consequences, perhaps dire enough to ensure she is never a Shinigami ever again, but she can’t sit idly by. She has to face him. She doesn't want the pity of the captains and other lieutenants; she somehow has to show them she is strong enough to stand with them. That she too would do anything to protect her home.

She casts her gaze back to her subordinates. coming and going from the mess hall. Most seem content, but there's still grave expression and an air of somberness around them.

What good reason would he have to leave us behind?

"Tobiume," she says, and despite the steeliness of her voice, her heart flutters with uncertainty. "What I want to do is reckless."

It is.

"I don't know what will face me when I go there, or what will face me when I return, but I cannot stand by and let Captain Aizen hurt my friends and threaten the Soul Society." She bows her head to her zanpakuto. "I know I have put you through much these last two months, but please...will you fight with me now?"

Her zanpakuto's reaitsu flares, becoming a raging fire for a few seconds, as though she were giving a roar. Without question! I will aways fight alongside you.

_________________________________

She received her orders from a Hell butterfly before Genji returns. She is to stay in the Fifth Division and will be protected by her Fourth and Fifth seated officers. There's a wartime exception, allowing Shinigami to carry their zanpakuto, and to be alert for any unusual activity in the Seireitei.

Genji returns with similar orders hlf an hour later, and it sends the division into a frenzy. Officer race back to their barracks and spread the word to those bewildered by the sudden change.

Eventually, Genji arrives at her room, with their Fourth and Fifth seated officers in tow.

"There has been rapid developments after Kurosaki Ichigo invaded Hueco Mundo," he informs her, kneeling at her doorway with his head bowed. “The Captain-Commander has reason to believe that Cap – that Aizen will invade the World of the Living today at midday.”

The air is swept from Hinamori’s lungs in a gasp. How can it be so soon? She had thought it would be a day or more. She didn’t have much time to prepare.

Genji mistakes her apprehension for worry. “You’ll be safe here, Lieutenant. I’ll be coordinating everyone from here. We will be following the Captain-Commanders orders for our officers to be posted in the Rukongai in case the Arrancar somehow make it here. If they come into contact with Aizen, they are to not engage in battle with him.” He struggles to get the next sentences out. “Given that we were under the influence of his shikai, it means we are susceptible to fall…under an illusion. If he uses that on us…”

“Understood,” she says, not wanting to hear the rest. “Thank you, Isawa-kun. I'll stay here.”

After Genji leaves and she thanks her Fifth and Fourth seats, Hinamori shuts her door. She swallows back the bile that rose from lying to Genji and her officers. She’s slow to move to the centre of her room. Despite the shock of it, she is not deterred by the information Genji provided; this is only a setback she needs to overcome.

She only has three hours to come up with a plan. Her only exit is either her window or her balcony. Most of her subordinates would be dispatched to the Rukongai within the hour, and there would be just under a hundred still in the barracks based on what Genji showed her last month.

She wont be able to convince the officers posted at her door to let her go outside, and refuses to use hakufuku on anyone. If she escape and uses a concealment kido, she could bypass most officers and find an isolated area to create a senkaimon. Where would be isolated in a time like this? What concealment spell would work best and not leave a trance until she's long gone? Who are the biggest threats to her plan? She winces at how much this mindset reminds her of when she planned to escape the cell and confront Hitsugaya months ago.

Without realising, she turns her head to the figurines on her shelf. The boy and the girl continue to smile at her, but she cannot return it. Hitsugaya will be at the battle. What will he think? He'll lecture her after the battle, obviously; perhaps tell her how foolish her actions are ad not speak to her for some days. But maybe, he'd understand. Like her, he too is dedicated to his occupation and the protection of Soul Society and it's residents. Despite his perchant for following code of conduct and laws of the Soul Society, she could imagine him doing something similar to her if he were in her place. Hadn't he done so only a few months ago?

You came to help me, she thinks. Even when I wouldn't listen to you and didn't want to believe what you were saying, you came to help me. Perhaps now, I can come to help you. Other Shinigami come to mind, friends and subordinates. I want to help all of you too, as you have done for me.

Joining the simmering anger is a determination strong enough to rid her of the anxious jitters and hone her focus on forming a coherant plan.

________________________________

She stares at her reflection, having just finish tying her ribbon over her hair cloth. She has looked like this in months, it’s as if she’s staring at a ghost. The bags under her eyes are gone at least, and despite appearance, she is not the same Soul who once wore the same clothes and accessories. When she returns from this battle, she’ll have changed again. Hopefully for the

Stepping out the bathroom, she glances at her lieutenant’s badge lying on her chest of drawers. When she picks it up, there a weight to it that hadn’t previously been there. She ties it around her arm with reverence. Despite what she’s about to do, she vows she will honour this position on the battlefield.

Strapping Tobiume to her hip, she then summons for a Hellbutterfly. While waiting for the creature, casts her senses out. In line with Genji’s information, the captains and lieutenants gather at fifteen minutes to midday together at the central Senkaimon. Their reiatsu gradually vanish one by one as they pass through the gateway.

I’ll be seeing you soon. Despite the anxiety and steely determination running through her, she can’t help but smile at the thought.

The Hell butterfly flies through her open window. The curtains flutter around it and behind the branches of the trees in the courtyard sway too and fro. The Hell butterfly lands on her shoulder, and she leans forward closes the window.

After the last captains goes through the Senkaimon, she waits. In that time, she stares at the books Aizen gave her, at the sketchbooks will with drawings of him, and at her reflection in the window.

I will face you, she vows, schooling her expression to one of stern resolve. You are a traitor to the Soul Society, an enemy to all the Worlds.

After fifteen minutes, she takes in a long breath, and at the exhale, she raises her hands. This is it.

 I will show you that you do not affect me or the Fifth Division anymore.

She’ll only have a minute at most before her Fourth and Fifth seat realise she’s not in her room. She whispers the incantation for a high-level concealment kido. Before she even utters the last word, she walks to the door to her balcony. Her limbs thrum with anticipation and nerves as she slides it aside quietly.

Then, she leaps up to the railing and bolts off, flying through the air, her gaze on the sky high above. Before her feet touch the ground, Tobiume's flames heat her blood, ready for battle, and her heart soars with a determination that surpasses any shame she has for escaping like this.

But then, the memory of Hitsugaya in the World of the Living comes to mind. She’d ask him not to kill Aizen. Sorrow briefly pricks at her heart. Forgive me, Hitsugaya-kun she thinks, feet only a few meters from the dirt..

As soon as she lands, she sprints in the directions of a training ground in the woods. Everything passes her in a blur.

I’ll show you and everyone else I’m better now.

_____________________________

Next chapter >>

[gravidwithlore]

Building a Home part 2 (part 1)

(Who wants to get a little taste of Brone's POV 😈)

word count: 4,700

Brone woke to the comforting sounds of the forest. At least the sounds of the not spooky part of the Wandering Woods. Usually he would wake up quicker, already be up and alert, especially with the baby kicking him practically all night long, but this morning he just felt too sluggish, but as he slowly woke up and became more aware of his body, he also felt sore. Very sore. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite place what. He could also feel someone curled up behind his back, their thin arm wrapped around his waist, hand resting over where the baby- the baby… THE BABY!

In pure panic, his eyes flew open as he heard the gurgle of an infant, but not within sight, too far away, much too far away. Someone was taking his baby, his little Wulf, he should have known he wouldn't be safe, he should have kept a closer eye, he should have never let himself drift off to sleep. All this ran through his mind in the split second it took to break out of whoever’s hold, and leap over the side of the wagon. Reaching for the pommel of his sword, ready to fight and give chase after whatever no good asshole thought they could take his baby, his hand grasped around nothing, and he cursed himself for leaving the sword tucked away in the cart. Then, he looked up and froze.

Melian and Rhiannon, sitting by the still smoldering remains of the campfire and holding a happily babbling Wulf, stared back at him, also frozen.

“Hey, what gives?” Jiyan broke the tension a few tense moments later, sleepily sitting up in the wagon, bed-head on display for all to see.

“I um… I thought, I- uh…” Brone stumbled over his words, suddenly feeling silly and exposed after causing a scene in his panic.

“Breakfast?” The fighter, Rhiannon, he'd have to start remembering their names. He was pretty sure he owed them his life after what they've done for him, and it's only smart business to remember the names of the people you owe and the people who owe you. The bard, the annoyance, Jiyan, perked up and hopped out of the cart. He always moved like he was swaying to some sort of rhythm, and he swayed right past Brone, who was still gathering his wits about him, and towards the smell of food.

The cleric… or was it druid? It was so hard to tell what exactly their deal was, but their name was Melian. Melian drifted up out of their seat, annoyingly graceful in the way that elves always are, and gently deposited his son in his arms. It was as if a spell had been broken and Brone could finally breathe again. He suddenly felt tired, the exhaustion of the night before catching up to him, even with a few hours of sleep.

“Come, sit. You'll both need to eat.” They guided him to sit down with the group. It was so strange to let some else lead him, outside of combat at least. He'd always kept a cautious professional distance from whoever he was stationed with in the mercenary camps. It made him feel uneasy to know these strangers had not only seen him so vulnerable, but had helped him, had cared for him, were continuing to care not just for him, but for his newborn son as well. It scared him to think what they might want in return, how high above his head they would hold this information, how they would wield it against him and twist it in his back like a knife. It scared him even more to think these people may no longer be strangers.

But still he sat, carefully, between the sore, well, everything between his legs and the small newborn he held in his arms, it was a bit difficult, but he managed.

They all sat, mostly silent, except of course for the pestering menace that wouldn't stop teasing him, about what a ‘good snuggler’ he is, about how ‘tough’ he is for going through labor just hours ago and still being ready ‘to kick some serious ass,’ about how ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ his baby is (which is true, but something about Jiyan’s tone always set him on edge, it always felt like the lead up to a mocking laugh at Brone’s expense). And yet, he had helped Brone the night before, and if his memory served correctly, ignoring his own pain in the process. These conflicting warring emotions swirled through Brone’s chest as he ate, only broken out of his thoughts once he was done eating and Melian offered to show him how to breastfeed Wulf.

“Is that… something you need to teach people? I thought it was just, sorta… natural.” Brone blanched.

“Not always.” Melian shook their head. “Sometimes the baby does not latch on right away, and sometimes a parent needs help in encouraging their baby to feed.”

Brone relented and Melian shooed away Rhiannon and Jiyan to start packing up camp so that they could have some privacy for his ‘lessons.’ His head swam, as he began to realize just how unprepared for this he was. Just save up enough coin and fuck off to his own little imagined paradise in the middle of nowhere? Melian was right, what an idiotic plan that was, and he had even fucked up the finding a place to live part. He'd just imagined a perfect little cabin with all he and his child could ever need, and never even bothered to try finding it before it was time to squat his crying babe into the world. Maybe that perfect little cabin didn't even exist, and now he's really screwed up, and he's ruined Wulf’s life as well as his own.

Thankfully, Wulf was a hungry lad, and took to feeding almost immediately. Brone’s relief momentarily washed away the anxiety and shame and embarrassment at exposing himself in front of Melian. But just as it always had, it flowed right back in to settle down in it’s home deep in his chest. But holding Wulf, he felt the small but growing spark of an emotion he hadn't felt since he was small. Happiness. And somehow that made the anxiety and shame feel a little less heavy than it did before.

“I hope you do not mind.” Melian interrupted his thoughts. “But I had Rhiannon rework your cloak. It may no longer function as it once did, but it will be immensely useful in helping to carry Wulf around.” They added before he could object, as they held up his old tatty cloak, patched and repaired with neat sturdy stitches. It turned out, she'd cut and resown it to be one long strip of fabric that Melian instructed him to wrap around his waist and shoulders and how to secure a fed and burped Wulf to his chest.

“I had some towels that might have worked, but I had a feeling you'd want something of your own to hold your son.” Melian smiled sweetly at him. Brone felt like the rug had pulled out from under him at how thoughtful the gesture was. Not only did this help him keep his arms free and handy in case of an ambush, but they were right. He wouldn't have trusted anything they would have provided unless his was his own ol’ trusted cloak. Although not having the cloak to cover him, to disguise and obfuscate his body anymore left him feeling naked in a way he hadn't even felt while naked and giving birth. It made him uncomfortable and he couldn't quite say why, but Wulf's comfort and protection was more important, so he just mumbled out a gruff ‘thanks.’

_____________________

Later that night, the group found a sparklingly clear pool of water to camp by. Once everybody confirmed with Brone, who was still their guide, the pool was safe and not one of the deceptively peaceful but extremely dangerous spots in the Wandering Woods, they went about unpacking for the night.

Brone was relieved to still be a little help at least, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty for being a useless liability in his state. It didn't help that Melian wouldn't let him lift the heavy horse harnesses, or chop firewood, or do anything that required physical exertion which was… most things you need to do in order to survive and make camp in the wilderness. The most they would let him do was start the fire and start cooking dinner. Plus, everyone kept fussing over him, asking if he needed to sit, if he was comfortable, asking if he needed to take a break from carrying Wulf. It was starting to feel overwhelming, and Brone was worried if he snapped at them they'd just leave him here and his son alone, the second half of his contract unpaid for failing to provide protection for the entire journey. By some miracle of the gods, he managed to hold his tongue.

While dinner was still cooking on the fire, Melian approached Brone and he tensed, ready to rebuff another attempt at coddling him.

“Would you like me to show you how to bathe little Wulf while we're here?” They asked. Brone blinked in surprise.

“I- uh, didn't know that was… another thing that needed to be taught.” Brone deflated, realizing for the 1000th time that day how in over his head he was in this whole new parenthood situation. Oh gods, how did he ever think he could do this?

“Not necessarily, but babies have a lot of… folds. I thought it might be helpful to show you some best practices, to save you from struggle later down the road. No pun intended.” They smiled and glanced back towards the path they'd spent the last four days traveling.

“Yeah, uh… sure.” Brone awkwardly agreed as he stood, slowly and carefully, his body still quite sore from the combination of childbirth and the days of traveling. Melian guided them over to the clear pool, discarding their cloak and flowy robes to just their linen underclothes. Brone hesitantly followed, stripping down to his underpants before following Melian into the water with little Wulf held tight in his arms. They didn't go very deep, the water barely up to their knees as they guided him to a spot with a large flat rock just barely under the water's surface, a perfect place for a baby to lay while they get their first bath. They instructed him on what type of soaps to use and which would harm his baby's skin, on which hidden baby folds to make sure get washed thoroughly and what parts to avoid getting soap into. Brone had never been a gentle man, in fact he'd had a long and storied career of being explicitly ‘ungentle,’ but something in him clicked when Wulf was born that activated some long dormant instinctual softness that he'd never thought he'd ever be capable of. Which is why it left him reeling in confusion when Melian accused him of being ‘too gentle’ while guiding him through the bath.

“What?” He said a little too forcefully.

“Whenever he fusses you begin to panic and hold back. He is just uncomfortable, but he will survive a bit of soap and water. Human babies are surprisingly resilient.” They explained.

For a moment Brone gaped at them like a fish. Then realizing how he must look, he snapped his jaw shut and nodded. He continued bathing Wulf, being a little less overly cautious than he was before.

“Brone… I apologize if I-”

“Thanks.” Brone grunted out before they could finish their thought. It was Melians turn to gape like a fish, confusion creeping in their usually calm demeanor. He cleared his throat.

“Thanks.” He said again more clearly. “For not mincing your words. You're straightforward. I-uh… I appreciate it.” He got quiet again, using his concentration on the task at hand as an excuse to avoid acknowledging his vulnerability. All of his instincts fired up as he felt their hand on his shoulder, but he fought down the urge to tear himself away.

“No thanks needed Brone. I… appreciate that you appreciate my… demeanor. Most are not quite so… appreciative.” Melian looked down, their eyes momentarily full of sadness, and Brone was startled to learn he couldn't stand to see such an expression darken their face.

“Well, most people need to pull their gods-damned head out of their asses. I wouldn't give their opinions much thought if I were you.” He said. To his surprise Melian snorted into a laugh, any trace of sadness banished.

“Thank you, Brone.” They sighed a minute later as their laughter faded, and he found he didn't want to flinch away from their touch when they laid a hand on his forearm. “That is very much appreciated.”

To his surprise, he found himself smiling back at them, Melian's laughter having the strange effect of making him feel… good? Good about… himself? Wulf's happy babbling interrupted that train of thought, before he went down a track from which he couldn't return.

“If you want to bathe yourself, I do not mind watching after Wulf while you do so.” They offered. Brone considered it for a moment. So far, Melian had been trustworthy, even helping bring his son into the world. Besides, he would be within sight and sound traveled well enough over the water, he would be able to hear loud and clear if something went wrong. In this moment, in this time, in this place, Melian was probably the most trustworthy person to hold his newborn for the couple of minutes it would take for a quick wash up.

“Just in time.” Rhiannon interrupted before he could give Melian an answer. “I was just coming to offer to do your hair.” Brone looked down at Mel in confusion, wondering if this was part of the pairs usual routine, to find Melian looking back at him expectantly. His brows furrowed in agitation as he realized she meant his hair.

“What’re you talking about?” Brone asked, as he waded into the water, until it was deep enough to quickly duck underwater. He popped back up to the surface, wet hair clinging to his face. “All clean, see?”

Rhiannon shook her head, an almost dismayed look on her face. Brone felt something in his stomach tightened as the little voice in the back of his head screamed at him that it looked too close to pity. Nothing good had ever happened when people looked at him in ‘pity.’ Pity quickly turned to disgust, disgust turned to loathing, and loathing got him dirty looks from strangers as he just tried to go about his business.

“Nope. Come on.” Rhiannon said, her hands on her hips, lips set in determination. But not disgust. Or loathing. No dirty looks. Just resolve.

“I will be just on shore with young Wulf here.” Melian offered.

“I-” Brone started to protest.

“Melian and Jiyan can more than handle themselves, and would protect Wulf with their lives. And, we will both be well within hearing distance and close enough to run to help in case of an ambush or other emergency.” Rhi said, in the same tone Brone had heard the mercenary captains discussing battle strategy. Precise, no judgement or emotion, to the point.

“And they won't steal him either.” She said, sensing his hesitation. “Even if they were the type to steal children from their parents, which they're definitely not, I trust that they wouldn't leave me behind and stranded with an opponent as formidable as you are, even when you're not royally pissed off. And again, we'll both be within hearing and seeing distance in case something does go wrong.”

Brone appreciated her directness. Blunt in a different way than Melian was. He felt like Mel would tell him the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. With Rhiannon, he felt like he was calmly, but expertly, being briefed on all the emergency exits and escape paths available.

“Fine.” He growled, accepting that she wouldn't take no for an answer. Melian took Wulf and walked back up to shore, while Rhiannon, already down to their underwear, directed him to where the pool began to flow into a small stream, into a little spot where he could sit in the water and lay his head back into the flowing water.

“You sure I'm not fine just dunking it under the water? It usually works out fine.” He tried one last time, eyeing the block of soap in her hand.

“Oh, honey, no.” She said, sounding a little mortified. “After last night, I'm pretty sure there's literally blood, sweat, and tears in your hair. It's going to take more than some water to make sure your hair is squeaky clean.”

Brone groaned in a reluctant but final assent, still antsy about being so far away from his newborn, every part of him tensed. When Rhiannon moved to brush a strand off his face, he kicked himself for flinching away, for failing to control himself when Rhiannon had taken pity on him and was sacrificing her own time to do him a favor. For the second day in a row now.

“Sorry, didn't mean to startle ya.” She said gently, with not even a tinge of judgment or disappointment in her tone. He felt like somewhere over the past few days, he'd entered a strange twilight zone, the way these three treated him so much differently than anyone else did. Like he was someone deserving of kindness. It made Brone uncomfortable in a way that felt far too big and all-consuming for him to be able to step back and examine without breaking down completely.

Despite himself, he started to settle down and relax a bit, as Rhiannon’s fingers started to work through his hair, lathering up the shampoo, thoroughly massaging his scalp. He couldn't remember the last time someone else had run their fingers through his hair like this. Well he could, just barely.

It had been so long ago that she had done, perhaps, this very routine, his mother. Brone couldn't even remember her face anymore, as she washed his hair in their tub, as she told him to run and hide as their village was attacked. Since then he'd been left on his own to scramble and claw his way towards survival, so far victorious despite all those that had tried to kick him back down. It had been a long time since he'd hardened himself to the rest of the world, but now that he was on the receiving end of such a simple brief gentle touch, he found both his body and soul craving it more than anything.

“Brone, are you… okay?” Rhiannon asked hesitantly.

“Fine. Why?” Brone grunted out less harshly than he'd intended, inwardly wincing at the slight crack in his voice.

“Well, uh, you're crying?”

His hands flew to his face, where the track of a single tear wet his face.

“It's probably just the, you know-” He gestured to the pool and flowing stream around them, his face feeling hot as his embarrassment grew.

“Mhmm. Sure.” Rhiannon said, in a tone that somehow managed to say ‘I'll be ready when you want to talk about it.’

“It's just… been a while. Since anyone's done, ya know… this.” Brone offered up after a few minutes of silence. “Not since… not since the raiders took out my parents.” He added, before mentally kicking himself for voluntarily supplying such vulnerable information to anyone, let alone someone he'd met only four days ago.

“How old were you?” She asked quietly. Brone debated not answering, just pretending he didn't hear her over the stream gurgling in his ears, and go on pretending as if he hadn't bared a tiny piece of his raw soul to a person he barely knew. That's what he'd always done, that's how he'd always kept himself safe, keep it all deep inside where no one can ever see his hurts, his weaknesses, his soft spots. How else would he have made it this far in his profession? In his life?

“Eight. I was eight years old.” He whispered back a few minutes later and desperately hoped she wouldn't hear him. Rhiannon didn't answer for a minute, and for some reason his heart sank when he realized that maybe she really didn't hear him.

“I'm sorry it's been so long since someone's done this for you then.” She said, as she ran her fingers through his hair, the unspoken ‘I'm sorry your family died’ hanging in the air between them. Brone suddenly didn't have the energy to do anything but gratefully grunt in acknowledgement and relax into her touch. It seemed like it was both a few seconds later yet also hours later, when she directed him to sit up.

He moved to stand, assuming the favor, the moment, the ritual over. But Rhiannon put her hands on his shoulders to keep him in place and she sat behind him and started running her fingers through his hair again. Brone blinked in surprise, as it dawned on him that she was starting to braid his hair.

“Figured it'll be easier to keep your hair out of your face, for the next few days at least.” She explained.

“Thanks.” He found himself saying, for the second (or was it third?) time that day. And truly meaning it. For a man who'd built a reputation for toughness, for ruthlessness, for refusing niceties such as ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ he sure was racking up a lot of ‘thank you’s’ lately.

Rhiannon finished putting his hair into a tight simple half braid, keeping his hair out of his face but still long in the back. They both decided to take a leisurely swim back to shore, taking a detour towards the deeper end of the pool to really enjoy the cool refreshing water, when suddenly they heard the plap, plap, plap sound of feet running on a rocky outcropping above them.

“CANNONBALL!” Jiyan screamed, as he leapt off the rock and curled into a ball, landing with a giant splash right in between Rhiannon and Brone.

“Ji! You're supposed to be cooking dinner!” Rhi spluttered, as she wiped water out of her eyes.

“Oh it's fine, Wulf’s got it!” Jiyan said when he resurfaced.

“What?!” Brone coughed up the water that had gotten into his mouth.

“And Melian! I'm just joking, they're fine!” He consoled the bigger man, swimming so slightly out of his reach.

“You're a dumbass.” Rhiannon smiled as she splashed him before he could swim too far away. And so began the battle. Trading weaponry for water, and battle cries for garbled teasing through the water running down their faces. Brone rolled his eyes in annoyance at their childish antics and floated out of splashing range. It didn't take long for the battle to become so intense that the pair briefly forgot he was even there.

A mischievous smile darkened his face and he sluiced through the water towards them, as quiet as any person could be while moving through water. Only his face peeked above the water's surface, his arms widespread as he gained momentum. It was only too late, as Brone already towered above them, sheets of water pouring down over them, did Rhiannon and Jiyan become aware of a third challenger in their midst.

“Truce!” Jiyan coughed out, arms flailing as he drifted away, blinded by the water flooding his eyes. “Parley! I throw in the towel! I surrender!”

“As long as Ji doesn't win, I'm good.” Rhiannon croaked out a minute later, after she'd coughed out all the water she'd involuntarily swallowed from the devastating attack.

“When you are all done playing, I think dinner is ready!” Melian called out, officially declaring an armistice on their behalf.

“Oh gods, it probably means it's burnt to the nine hells and back.” Jiyan groaned. Rhiannon elbowed him hard in the ribs.

“You're the one who left them in charge of the food.” She said.

“And Wulf!” Ji protested. Both Rhiannon and Brone rolled their eyes in almost perfect unison.

“Come on you lot. The more you argue about it the more burnt it'll be. I'm sure it'll be fine.” Brone growled, but in an almost friendly tone of growl. It felt unfamiliar to his vocal chords, but not entirely unpleasant? Ignoring that thought, he gently shoved the pair towards shore where he could smell the savory aroma of a only slightly burned dinner and hear the happy gurgles of his newborn son waiting for him to get back.

____________________

He had to admit, Jiyan had a lovely singing voice. He was an excellent lyre player as well, but his voice just on its own was truly mesmerizing to listen to. One might think that's what would be expected of a bard, but Brone had met plenty of ‘bards’ on his travels that could barely define what a tune was, let alone carry one. Despite the fact that Ji was singing lullabies to help put Wulf to sleep, Brone couldn't help but find himself getting sucked in as well. He almost wondered if there was some magic in his song.

“I can weave some into the melody if you'd like.” Jiyan winked, and Brone was startled to learn he'd actually said that thought out loud.

“I-uh, no. No thanks. I just want to get him used to, uh, falling asleep naturally, I guess.” Brone stumbled over his words as he momentarily stopped swaying and rocking Wulf to sleep. No point in getting used to the blessings of magical sleep on a newborn, when they were just going to go their separate ways in a couple of days. Then Brone would be left with a fussy newborn already conditioned to be put to sleep by magic, and as usual not an ounce of magical ability in his body. Jiyan, no, the bard who he'd probably never see again once they parted ways, shrugged and continued to sing when Wulf, half-asleep, started to fuss.

Brone began to sway again, gently keeping rhythm with the melody. He tried to subtly eye Jiyan, who looked at Wulf so fondly and tenderly one would think the babe was his own. And the way he looked at Brone… it made Brone uncomfortable, but in a way that he'd only admit deep down inside himself, that he never wanted to stop.

Eventually his baby boy settled down to sleep and Brone settled him down in the back of the wagon so he could go about his evening routine without waking him up.

“Last night…” Brone hesitated as the last notes of Jiyans song faded.

“Yeah Papa Bear? It was a pretty big night huh?” Jiyan playfully winked and lightly elbowed him.

“I broke your hand didn't I?”

“Pfft! What- no! My hand? Never!” Jiyan lied. Badly. All it took was Brones eyebrows to furrow together, then one raised in mild frustration, for him to break.

“Okay, yeah fine, you did. But Mel fixed it with magic already, see? All healed!” He said as he raised up the hand in question and flexed it to prove that Melians magic had worked. “I just didn't want you to worry. You had way more important things to worry about.” Jiyan added, so earnestly and wholeheartedly that it took Brone aback for a second.

“I- uh, well… thanks.” He stammered out as he tried to look anywhere but into Jiyans eyes. “And sorry.”

“Don't worry about it Papa Bear, like I said! Good as new already!” Ji proclaimed, smiling as he continued to flap his hand around as proof, as he wandered off, presumably to go off and complete his own evening routine. Brone sighed and shook his head, as he tried not to smile back at him. Now he was up to four ‘thank you’s’ and one ‘sorry.’ It had only been one day of parenthood, and he was already getting much too soft.

[meraki-yao]

RWRB: A list of thoughts on the Campfire Scene

Ok I went to sleep for another hour to calm myself down and now I can form coherent thoughts about the scene and not just scream and squeal

It's a three-minute scene with two shots. The first shot is a little over two minutes

When Alex asks his question, Henry, who was looking into the fire, tilts his head towards Alex as if to listen better. After Alex finishes, Henry looks up towards the sky, like he's wondering how to answer

Alex doesn't really react to Henry's "Once upon a time" even though he's not directly answering Alex's question. He just listens, and that's such a beautiful thing

Nick deserves a round of applause for this scene, his monologue was two minutes long, and monologues are really hard to perform because it's just you who keeps talking, you don't really get to react to other things or people, it's just you, so Nick is a fantastic job

Nick's delivery and tone, and the way he sometimes ends a sentence a bit like a question (ex: "acutely") makes it sound like Henry's been thinking about this story/ metaphor for a while but this is the first time he ever verbalizes it, so while he knows what he wants to talk about thus he doesn't need to pause a lot to think of the story, he does occasionally need to think of the next word or line because again, he never actually said any of this out loud before, and Nick does that so well

@pippin-katz pointed out that Nick misspoke and said "sent the suit a prince of armour" which is hilarious, and while because movie, this shouldn't happen, realistically we all have moments where we mix words up so it almost feels more... authentic? Also, I didn't pick it up but now that Pippin mentioned it I'm really aware of it lmao

Also Henry/Nick's voice here is so soothing? I can almost imagine him telling bedtime stories to his and Alex's kids like this in the future. I wonder if Henry would write children's books because it feels like it'd be something he do and something he could write really well, if this clip is anything to go by. Plus I stumbled across an audio of Nick reading "The Emperor's New Clothes" before (I literally have no context of why he was reading that and it was literally just audio, not sure if I can find it anymore) and it was so soothing and calming that I fell asleep to it one night. Besides the full-cast RWRB audiobook that I'm practically demanding at this point, I wonder if he would be interested in doing more audiobook/narration stuff. He's really got the voice for it

The King sending a suit of armour to protect the prince's heart kind of further proves my point of the King being a much more loving grandparent to Henry than the queen in the book, and him worrying more about Henry himself than the image of the crown. He noticed that 1, Henry is an emotionally sensitive person, 2, Henry is gay, and both of those things could be turned against him easily, and he will get hurt. He does love Henry, just not in a way that's good for Henry. If we get a sequel I do hope we can see them reconcile in one way or another. It'd be a nice example for people in the same positions.

The "Nothing will ever happen to him" line!!!! I wrote a whole essay about Kensington and this line because somehow this line was one of the most powerful ones to me, but to know that it was originally Henry's word just adds another level of pain to the Kensington scene

You can see Henry's face light up when he starts talking about the peasant boy. And Alex's quick eyebrow raise and deep chuckle. It's so beautiful, I wanna cry

We talk about Alex's heart eyes, which, yes, but Henry's look of pure adoration and love at Alex when he says "Truly Alive" makes me want to melt

I yelled a little at Alex when he started to lay back down (as in I verbally shouted "DAMMIT ALEX LOOK AT YOUR MAN") because I felt like if Alex saw Henry's face in the following lines he'd figure out Henry has issues earlier? But then I saw a take saying the shot was framed like theatre where Henry's both centre stage and in the spotlight so the focus is on him, so Alex was designed to lay back down on the timber bench to make the entire space for Henry

Henry's look of sad longing when he talks about the peasant boy pulling apart his armor is heartbreaking

I wonder if this was originally planned to be the changing point from Alex's POV to Henry's POV? Because in that case I do think the lake scene worked better as a changing point

I also wonder how did Henry end the story in his head up to this point? Because as hopefully as the last line is, at this point in the story, Henry still doesn't believe he can keep this

I get why scenes are cut because when you're putting together a movie, there are a lot of things you don't see for individual scenes until you put them together. This is why as much as I want the cast and crew to get the premiere they deserve to have, I don't really want an extended cut of the movie, because things were cut for a good reason

That being said, if the cornetto scene and this scene proved anything, is that the scenes themselves are fascinating, and I WANT THEM ALL

[theloregirlv2]

Lore Analysis of The Casting of Frank Stone

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷

Hello everyone, and welcome back to the fog. I'm excited to be dissecting this game with you all as I've been looking forward to it for so long now! From a story perspective, I find the game to be very interesting. While we aren't shown a lot of new info, the game does flesh out things already talked about in the lore.

So pull up a chair, and let's talk about The Casting of Frank Stone.

(Credit to GamersPrey for the footage)

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING.⚠️

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬

The thing that stood out to me the most about this game was its exploration of dbd's multiverse. I expected them to touch on it a little but not to this degree. This game not only explicitly references Tera Worlds but also shows us alternate versions of characters. We are officially shown this with Sam, the man responsible for taking down Frank Stone.

We see him later on in the present after he manages to get into the manor, only to find out that this Sam is not the same one from the 1980s that Linda knew. Instead, he's from a different Tera World and is actually a part of the Imperiatti. We later see this again as Augustine has stacks of tapes of different versions of Murder Mill from different universes. Augustine in general is a very interesting character, but we'll talk about her later.

For now, I'd like to talk about Frank himself. He shows up at the beginning of the game in a sequence that I actually find really interesting. He technically ends up dying due to being shot and falling into the fire below, but he seems to be taken by Entity afterwards.

This scene is kind of weird to me as I'm not sure why the Entity would appear here now. It could be that it was sealing its deal with Augustine as she is also present in this scene, or maybe it did something to Frank's soul? I think it was just simply cleaning up evidence of what had occurred, but it could honestly be anything.

The next time we see him is towards the end of the game, as his spirit is revived. While it's never explicitly said or shown, I'm pretty sure this is due to Augustine in some way. As the color of his ghost matches that of the machine she has.

It's also possible that this is due to the fact that the mill is most definitely a source of an overlap. The teens disturbing the site could have awakened his spirit, as it is mentioned that some trace of Frank was left after his death.

His final appearance is at Augustine's manor in the present. She uses the pieced together parts ofnthe film and some type of enchantment to summon Frank in a new form.

This version of him has been clearly transformed in some way. And while yes, he has been brought back to life, it's clear that's due to some "Entity magic." Frank chases the characters around in the manner in a sort of recreation of the trials until making it outside. Whoever you kept alive to this point will show up in the ending at a campfire.

The Entity claims both Frank and the surviving characters, as a trial is soon prepared. Even though I was expecting an ending like this, it still surprised me to just see the campfire in a story like setting. Getting to fully see how the Entity takes people into its realm was so cool, and the cameo from the original survivors was a nice touch.

The last thing I wanted to actually talk about is Augustine, who is a member of the Black Vale (the cult that worships the Entity). This is our first time seeing one of them visually as they have only been talked about in the tomes. I plan on making a separate post about her character so we'll skip over that for now.

What I want to talk about is her machine. It's pretty much what drives the game forward, and I find it really strange. It mainly seems to be some type of time machine, as it brings Chris back from the past and is also able to send her back.

We also see Augustine herself come out of the machine after she is sacrificed to the Entity by Frank. We see the same older woman from the store standing over her, which implies that the old woman is, of course, Augustine herself. The fact that she doesn't die or get taken into the realm after being sacrificed is interesting, though. I guess this is because she is a Black Vale member and extremely devoted to the Entity. So it probably has more use for her in the future.

Another thing to note is that the world we see in the Casting of Frank Stone might have actually been consumed by the Entity. While we do see Chris go back in time to before everyone went into the mill in the secret ending. I think her doing this probably created another universe or Tera World in itself since she does run into herself. But the main world was very likely destroyed by the Entity since Augustine does imply that she wanted that to happen.

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷

That was my short little analysis on The Casting of Frank Stone! I do plan to talk more about this game in the future, as I didn't get a chance to talk about everything I wanted. As you can see, there isn't really a lot of new material added to the games overall world building. But there are some things that elude to greater things to come, like the secret ending I mentioned.

That will be all from me for now! Remember to avoid any mysterious fogs, or you may just end up like our friend Frank :)

[novaonhere]

Golden

Relationship: Cal Kestis x f!reader

Summary: The scene where everyone is enjoying the night by the campfire, in bliss. One by one someone leaves, leaving a smitten Cal staring at what the sunset is illuminating.

Word Count: 600

Warnings: Nah, she precious, she cute

A/N: To make up for a long time of nothing, I'll post some more today!

Prompt: The evening sun is falling on their face and she thinks maybe, just maybe, she is a little bit in love with them.

(gif not mine)

————————————————————————

Drinks get passed around the group, filling the evening air with chatter. The compass was finally in your grasp! You laid back against a large rock, it cool to your back, while the fire kept your front toasty. You couldn't remember a time where your shoulders weren't locked up, where your back didn't ache with every movement, nor when your feet would cramp after a long day. Bringing up the cup to your lips, you take a long and well-deserved sip, the flavor of Greez's famous tea really hitting you in the back of the throat. The small grin never vanished as your eyes danced to every person who joined with you at the campfire. Cere and Caldova chattered about the future of the Hidden Path, the corners of their mouths almost reaching their cheeks. Merrin sits happily content on top of a rock, staring deeply into the flames. She doesn't have a smile, but she looks equally relaxed. Cal and Bode chat and laugh heartily together, exchanging stories and hopes for the future. Greez walks back to the group, a few more tea cups in hand.

"I got more drinks! Who wants one?" He smiles, holding up three drinks with his hands. Cere and Caldova happily take another, inviting Greez into their conversation. Merrin is the first to stand and wish the group a good rest of the evening. She leans down beside you, resting her hand on your shoulder.

"Rest easy," She smiles, patting your shoulder. You place a hand over hers.

"You as well," She nods, walking towards the door. You turn your attention towards the horizon. The bright star that this planet uses as the sun is hovering over the land, illuminating the sky in all different shades of yellow and orange. A particular man's head is also next to the beautiful scene, maybe even more enticing than staring at the sky. His hair practically shines from the rays, highlighting his complexion. The slight breeze pushes his locks off his neck, and a few strands dance in the wind. The lower the sun starts to go down, the redder his hair becomes. His eyes shine from the sunset, but the light doesn't seem to bother him at all. It's like he's allowing the light to bounce and make them sparkle.

Bode must have said something funny, causing Cal to give a laugh. Your chest seems to flutter. The way his eyes crinkle on the sides of his face, the way his nose scrunches and makes room for his lips to part and widen, the way his face reddens, making his freckles perfectly season his face, the way he bares his teeth, not afraid to laugh to his heart's content. His toned arms grasp his torso, trying but failing to hold himself together.

You feel like you could just melt into a puddle right then and there, but as the last little sliver of sunlight peaks over the desert mounds, Bode stands and leaves to go inside. You and Cal wish him a good night, your attention back on the red-head. His head is positioned perfectly in front of the last bit of sun, creating a halo around his face. And, of course, he had to just smile at you. Your lips seem to smile back, but they feel like jelly. He stands and makes his way over to you, and all you could do was watch. He kisses his palm and places his hand on top of your head.

"Sleep well," He smiles, walking past you. Your face feels as if it erupted in flames. You did in fact, sleep well.