#and the twins are like .......................... odd priority but lets go

[noomsu]

you arrived like sunlight in the gloom

s. neuvillette is pondering on his feelings, unrecognizable as they are. cw. fluff. longing. barely any dialogue?? not proofread. gender-neutral reader (no pronouns used). tw. murder mention (trial). wc. 1.2k a/n. i wrote this at work (hehe) so take it with a grain of salt. this was for neuvi's birthday but i haven't caught a break this week so it's a little late. anyway, happy belated birthday, loml. credits. dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Neuvillette frowned—his eyebrows wrinkled together for a fraction of a second, barely perceptible. He placed down the documents he had been holding, and let out a sigh. It was heavy. As heavy as the five centuries he carried within himself. No, that was not quite right—it was as heavy as the unspoken feeling that swelled deep within his ribcage. Though he was well aware of his lack of understanding in human matters—even more so those that involved complex emotions—, Neuvillette found that this was different. It filled him with equal parts of dread and excitement. It made his heart, that useless muscle beating in his chest, swell with elation and shrink with anxiety.

It was a contradiction.

He was not used to contradictions. He was a man of facts—evidence, logic, arguments. He knew to recognize what was true, factly, from what was not. And yet, now, he hesitated. Doubt filled him like a leak in a fortress; slow and steady, it filled him from his toes to the top of his head, eroding his foundations, making him falter. Making him weak.

As the Iudex, hesitation was a luxury that he could not afford. As for weaknesses, he was not aware he had one. Not one as glaringly obvious as this.

As you.

His eyes flickered again to the documents on his desk. The latest evidence that the Marechaussee Phantom had collected framed the actions that had led to the current trial—a murder of passion is what Fontaine called it, but Neuvillette failed to see how passion could lead to such an awry outcome. Or that’s how he used to think, at least. Now, as he glanced through his window and caught sight of you, he had the faintest idea of how one could go to such lengths for passion.

You were beautifully oblivious, he noticed. Even as you laughed and flushed delicately under the soft sunshine of Fontaine, you did not seem to realize that the magician was pulling the reactions out of you with purpose. The sky began to cloud almost at the same time that he observed Lyney taking out a rainbow rose from his hat for you—he watched you stutter from the window, torn between flattery and shame as you accepted the flower in your hands.

It was odd. 

He had never noticed the sly undertone of the magician. Perhaps he was seeing things—hallucinating could be quite serious. Maybe he should pay a visit to Sigewinne. 

No matter.

Neuvillette forced himself to look back at the documents on his desk. His first and utmost priority should be the upcoming trial, not whether or not you were charmed away by Fontaine’s most famous magician. Despite his words, the rumble of thunder outside said otherwise.

Truth be told, he did not quite understand the storm of emotions brewing within him. He knew better than anyone that Lyney and Lynette’s reputation preceded them. He had even gone out of his way to watch their performances. Even Lady Furina had acknowledge their talent—if that was true, then why was his mouth filled with bitterness at the sight of a trick he had seen countless times before? Pulling a flower out of his hat was, perhaps, one of the most basic tricks under Lyney’s sleeve. He wondered, for a second, if perhaps he would be this bothered had something else come out of that hat. Would he be this unsettled if the cat that followed the twins had popped out? Or if it had been a dove instead of a flower? Or was it perhaps the kind of flower what bothered him?

No, that wasn’t right.

He realized, then, that what bothered him was the audience. That you, of all people, were the audience.

What a silly thought.

Why would you refrain from enjoying the joys Fontaine had to offer? Why would you resist the charm of magic and flattery? It was a selfish thought. Neuvillette paused as the thought crossed his mind, hand frozen, fountain pen bleeding through the paper—selfish, hm? He was not aware a creature such as himself could feel selfishness. He understood the concept; the constant need to only consider one’s needs. Never would he have guessed that he’d feel such a complicated emotion, least of all provoked by you.

No, that was not fair. That was a mistaken verdict—another surprise.

With another thunder, Fontaine was covered in rain once again. Neuvillette sighed, observing the mess of ink he had made on his desk. He was lucky the ink had not reach the text, but it was still unbecoming of the Chief Justice to appear in court with his gloves stained. That was another first—nothing had managed to unsettle him enough to lose sight of all propriety except you.

How could a mere human hold such power over a sovereign?

As he focused once again on the stained documents on his hands, Neuvillette finally lost sight of you. He did not see you laughing as the rain fell, soaking through your clothes. He did not see you ran to the nearest roof barefoot nor did he see you asking something to a passing Melusine. 

He did not see you.

Not until you knocked at his door. “Monsieur Neuvillette?” 

The moment you opened the door and stepped inside, soaked through and still dripping from the sudden rain, Neuvillette recognized another odd emotion swirling within him: relief. He felt such relief that, had he been standing, perhaps he would have fallen to his knees. Odd, he thought, that a mere human could wield enough power to bring him to his knees.

No, that was not accurate. 

You did not hold the power.

He had willingly given it to you.

With the realization, the rain outside seemed to thin until the clouds began to disperse.

“I apologize,” Your voice, familiar and warm, forced a smile out of him. “I just wanted to wish you luck with the upcoming trial. I know what you will say-”

“Justice needs no luck,” He finished for you.

You laughed. That bright laugh that always made him feel oddly lighter. 

“I know,” You repeated, nodding. Despite your sudden appearance and your soaked state, you had not attempted to actually step into his office. You remained within the door frame, preventing your mess from staining his pristine space—unaware that, in fact, he’d rather you stepped in. He would rather have traces of you all over than have you at arm’s distance. “However, I am aware that this trial is… complicated, and though you always deny it, I know it might affect you. Kiara seems worried, too.”

“I appreciate the concern.” Neuvillette gifted you one of his rare smiles—one of those small, gentle ones that could warm even the coldest day in Snezhnaya.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” You cleared your throat, suddenly flustered.

You mumbled something about needing to change, about not wanting to catch a cold, and left just as quick as you had appeared. His office felt almost cold the moment you disappeared—like the sun had left, taking all its warmth with it and leaving behind a perpetual winter.

That’s it, he thought.

The sun.  He was weak to the sun.

He was weak to you.

more works.

©2024 noomsu do not translate, repost, copy, modify

[moeblob]

(SLAMS MY OCS DOWN)

I MISSED THEM SO MUCH YOU GUYS

Reynold, the ADHD human that he is, has a very hard time focusing on much of anything and the only way he can be considered "accomplished" in his former line of work (CIA) is because he knew. He knew he had to do the task as fast as possible before he forgot what he was doing.

Now he lives in another world and is basically the trophy husband to the demon lord and Reynold is like "this is amazing I'm adopting the whole entire demon army as our children". And the demon lord is like "you want to adopt my demon army" and Reynold is like "starting with your advisors, yes. those are our daughters now. I love them. I would literally kill for them."

And Sascha, the demon lord determined to NOT ACTUALLY FIGHT PEOPLE, is like please don't kill anyone. And his job is now "take care of the entire demon race and also act as impulse control to one human". Luckily his twin advisors love Reynold too and agree to help keep him in line in the world.

And since idk how much I posted on main and not my OC blog for the advisors, Melo (left) is mute and Lody (right) does the talking. They are able to share what they see with each other because of the pink/yellow eyes acting as like a gateway of sorts. So they're rarely assigned to survey the same area since if they're apart they can see twice as much and report on more in order to aid Sascha. (But at the castle they both like to stick together and trail either Sascha or Reynold)

[mavrintarou]

[1:39PM] Kita Shinsuke

It's my (our) man's birthday! Of course, I couldn't forget his birthday. I don't think I can write a non-smut fic for him at all. Or more like... a non-breeding fic. This man just reeks of breeding kink, convince me otherwise. Oh and this is my first Soulmate au

Warning: 18+ let us just leave it at that (if you have been following me this long you know I rarely ever right sfw stuff...); older Shinsuke; as mentioned, soulmate au . Soulmates operated in a rather amusing manner and had a peculiar way of working. By purposefully parting a couple destined to be together and presenting them with formidable obstacles, no matter the cost or the duration, they would invariably defy the odds and ultimately find their way back to one another.

As soon as an individual reaches the age of seventeen, akin to the legendary red string of fate, the initials of their soulmate will manifest in red on their left pinky fingers. Once the pair entwines their pinkies, their initials will vanish, symbolizing the fulfillment of their destined connection.

While a few are fortunate enough to find their soulmates nearby, others must search the world to seek their destined partners.

Kita Shinsuke, at the age of thirty-three, has not found his soulmate. Each day, he is greeted by the persistent sight of red initials, serving as a reminder that his destined partner is still out there, perhaps patiently awaiting his arrival or diligently searching for their connection.

After his grandmother’s death a few months ago, he finally opened the letter she left behind.

My dearest Shin-boy,

By the time you read this, I will no longer be on Earth with you.

My kind-hearted boy, please go and search for your soulmate. Find them and do not waste any more time. I promise I will be at peace.

Love,

Your granny

It wasn’t that Shinsuke didn’t make an effort to find his soulmate. He firmly believed that their destined connection would eventually manifest, but he had limited time left with his grandmother and wanted to ensure she had the best life possible before he embarked on a lifelong journey with his soulmate. He trusted his soulmate would understand and empathize with the priority he placed on his grandmother’s well-being.

He cast a glance at his pinky, their initials glaring at him as if he kept them waiting for over sixteen years.

Shinsuke chuckled softly, speaking to himself, “I’m on my way, I’m on my way to you. Just hold on a little while longer.”

. .

As the gentle music played through the church, signaling the commencement of the wedding ceremony, Shinsuke turned his gaze. His cousin Tenkin, who shared a similar journey, had found his soulmate in his thirties, despite the challenges they faced along the way. And now, it was Shinsuke’s moment, his turn to find his soulmate.

Observing his cousin standing at the altar, eagerly awaiting his bride’s arrival, Shinsuke finally noticed the uncanny resemblance. Being born just weeks apart, with their fathers as brothers, it was clear why many considered them to be almost like twins, with Shinsuke being the elder of the two.

One by one, each bridesmaid walked down and stood in their position.

In the blink of an eye, the small smile on Shinsuke’s face vanished, replaced by a sudden jolt in his chest that felt like a punch to the heart. His right hand instinctively pressed against the racing heart, feeling its profound beats pulsating beneath his palm. Meanwhile, an aching sensation emanated from his left pinky, prompting him to turn his palm upward and witness the radiant glow of his soulmate’s initials.

He turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of the final bridesmaid making her way down the aisle.

As the world around them faded into a blur, his focus narrowed solely on her. In that moment, she became everything he could see, the embodiment of his desires. She was undeniably the one – the soulmate. His soulmate.

. .

Y/n’s grip tightened on her left hand, attempting to shake off the persistent tingle that pulsated in her left pinky.

Her soulmate’s initial glowed and her heart has been racing nonstop at the mere thought of, they’re here, my soulmate is here amongst the crowd at Tenkin and Jessica’s wedding.

As she gracefully walked down the aisle, her heart started pounding, not from nervousness, but from a deep instinct that whispered her soulmate was seated among the pews, awaiting her arrival.

Maintaining her composure and pace as they had rehearsed, she reached a specific area, only to feel her heart racing and a tingling sensation coursing through her pinky beneath her pristine white gloves. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed a head turning, and her knees nearly buckled in response.

When she made it to the altar and stood beside the rest of the bridesmaids, her eyes immediately fell upon a pair that was looking directly at her.

There was no mistaking that he felt it as well, that he was her soulmate.

“You okay, Y/n?” Victoria, the other bridesmaid ask, noticing how quiet she was when they found their seating at the reception dinner.

Y/n looked up and quickly nodded and smiled, “yes, it’s been a long day and the wine isn’t helping – just making me tired.”

“That means you need to dance then!” Jessica grabbed her wrist, tugging her up from her seat and to the dance floor. “Dance off the tiredness, the night is still young!”

Despite having a glass of wine, Y/n remained sober, which was unusual for her since typically even a single glass was enough to make her feel slightly tipsy. As she swayed on the dance floor with the bridesmaids, her eyes meticulously scanned the crowd, yet she couldn’t catch a glimpse of those unique eyes or the silver hair that closely resembled Tenkin’s. It made her wonder if they were related.

Another thought crossed her mind, perhaps he left? She allowed herself a moment of relaxation, releasing the tension that had built up.

The music transitioned to a slow melody, and a flurry of couples hurried onto the dance floor to partake in a waltz.

Y/n glanced at the girls, ready to join them in leaving the dance floor, when she noticed their penetrating gaze fixed upon her. A slight frown formed on her face as she struggled to decipher their expressions. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Jessica swiftly grasped Y/n’s wrists, twirling her around, causing her breath to hitch in surprise. It was then that she realized the man she had been looking for was standing behind her all along. “Shinsuke, this is Y/l/n Y/n,” Jessica hurriedly introduced, “Y/n, meet Tenkin’s cousin, Kita Shinsuke.”

Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, no doubt that he was her soulmate. His name matched the initials that is throbbing on her finger. “Shinsuke, would you like to dance with her?” Jessica added, squeezing Y/n’s shoulders in excitement.

Y/n hastily attempted to mutter an excuse but Shinsuke confidently stepped forward, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he extended his left hand. “I would be delighted to dance with you, Y/n,” he said, his voice warm and inviting.

Y/n groaned as she could feel the girls quickly fixing her hair, and smoothing her dress. Jessica reaches to pull off her gloves, “you don’t need to wear these anymore.”

Y/n’s fists quickly clenched preventing her from taking them off. “No – my – my hands are cold.”

They frowned but nodded their head, not wasting a second longer. “Enjoy your dance!”

Y/n locked eyes with Shinsuke, letting out a shaky breath before placing her gloved left hand in his. Immediately, her heart raced faster than before and her hand zapped as if she was shocked by electricity.

Shinsuke’s hand closed around her small ones and gripped it tightly, pulling her closer and placing her hand on his shoulders. “Thank you, for sharing a dance with me,” he murmured,  he pulled her close, “is this okay?”

Y/n looked away, blushing profusely under his gaze. “Yes,” she murmured. She could not hear the music yet her body swayed with his lead. Her ears feel hot as it rang with how loud her heart was beating against her chest. His touch felt hot yet cool against hers and she yearned for more.

“Y/n.”

She hummed and looked up, catching his eyes, and noticing how they glowed at her.

“Do you feel it?” He whispered, his words resonating loud and clear as if they were meant only for her to hear.

She nodded her head, biting her lip, not trusting her voice at that moment.

A smile spread across his face, revealing a single dimple on his right cheek. “I feel it too,” he whispered, leaning in gradually until their foreheads gently touched. It was a simple yet intimate gesture between the two individuals who had just met but felt as though they had known each other for a lifetime.

To any onlooker, it would be evident that these two were soulmates. The intensity of their gaze and the effortless grace with which they waltz spoke volumes as if their souls have finally reunited in perfect harmony.

Once the music ended, her heart dropped slightly, her mind racing with what do we do now?

Shinsuke held onto her hand, a silent acknowledgment of the shared connection they both felt. “Will you come with me? Please?” he asked, his voice filled with earnestness.

Without a moment of hesitation, she nodded in agreement as he guide them away from the dance floor.

He guides them to an empty bench out on the garden terrace. He immediately shrugged off his suit jacket, placing it around her shoulders. “Please, have a seat.”

Y/n blushed under his gaze, God, he’s so handsome.

A gentle chuckle escaped Shinsuke’s lips as he gracefully lowered himself to one knee, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. He reached out for her gloved left hand, his thumb caressing her knuckles. “May I… remove it?” he asked, his voice filled with warmth and anticipation.

“Yes,” she whispered. A smile adorned his face, revealing both of his dimples and Y/n’s head tilt back as she lets out a groan, exclaiming, “you’re absolutely torturing me with your dimples.”

Shinsuke made a mental note of her weakness against his dimples, etching it into his memory. With a swift motion, he gently removed her glove and turned her palm upward, his gaze fixated on the initials engraved on her pinky.

His initials.

KS

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he locked eyes with her before glancing down at her soulmate mark. His thumb tenderly brushed over it, and this time, instead of tingling or jolts, a sense of calmness, warmth, and peace washed over him. Shinsuke’s breath trembled as he lift his left pinky, revealing his own soulmate mark – the initials that belong to her.

Y/n blinked, fighting back the tears that welled up in her eyes. She reached out and tenderly touched his mark, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips. “It took us sixteen years, but we finally found each other,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotions. “I shouldn’t complain,” she murmured, holding his hand, “some people wait an eternity to meet their soulmate. Sixteen years may have felt long, but what truly matters is that we found each other.” With determination in her eyes, she raised her pinky, a symbolic gesture. “I don’t want to waste any more time,” she declared, her words filled with a sense of urgency and desire to embrace their newfound connection.

“Me too,” Shinsuke whispered, linking his pinky with hers.

. .

The ring on Y/n’s finger shimmered, catching the light with a radiant sparkle. Just a few weeks after their fateful encounter, Y/n and Shinsuke exchanged vows in a small and intimate wedding ceremony. It was customary for soulmates to marry soon after finding each other, and both Shinsuke and Y/n were eager to seize the opportunity and avoid any further separation. Time was too precious to waste.

Stepping out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, Shinsuke’s eyes widened as the dimly lit bedroom was suddenly brightened, illuminated by the flickering candles on the cake being carried by Y/n. After a tiring day out in the field, he indulged in a long shower, craving the comfort of his home and spending the rest of his day with his wife.  

“Happy birthday Shinsuke!”

He couldn’t remember the last time he celebrated his birthday with a cake and candles.

“Make a wish, Shin,” Y/n whispered, eyes gleaming with love.

He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and blowing out the candles. Shinsuke takes the cake out of her hands and set it on their dresser before approaching her.

Y/n gazed into his eyes and immediately recognized the familiar look within them. Y/n discovered that Shinsuke wasn’t as sociable as Tenkin, but he spoke through his silence, specifically through his eyes.

As he was at the moment.

She lets out a hesitant laugh, knowing what is about to come with those dark and dilated eyes. They are illuminated with passion and love. Love just for her. Y/n backed up until her back was pressed against the wall and Shinsuke reached out to grasp her hips, pressing himself against her. “Shin…” she half moaned and gasped when his towel dropped from his waist, allowing her to feel his erect bulge pressing against her.

His fingers slowly began bunching up her nightgown from below the waist. “Y/n,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear, his voice barely audible, “I’ve made a wish…”

Y/n feels his fingers rubbing between her legs, she can feel his smile against her cheek as he discovers she wore no panties underneath. It has become futile wearing panties when he was just going to throw them at the end of the bed. “Y – yes and…”

“And are you going to make my wish come true?”

“If I can…”

“Oh, I know you can…” Shinsuke hooked an arm underneath one knee, hiking her leg around his hip. He rubs his cock along her pussy and she can feel his precum smearing along her slit. “Will you let me make love to you without a condom?”

Y/n trails her hands up and along his muscular tanned arms until she can cup his face, pulling his head down for a kiss. “It’s your birthday, my body, heart, and soul is yours, do as your please.”

With her permission, Shinsuke thrust inside her, feeling the complete rawness of skin-to-skin contact. “Fuck, you’re so tight… how are you so tight when we make love practically every night?”

Y/n kissed him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and lifting herself to wrap both her legs around his waist. Shinsuke easily held her, slowly creating a pace and savoring the euphoric bliss. “Can we throw away the condoms? I don’t think I can… go back to using them.”

“Do you want to make a baby, Shin?” Y/n rolled her hips, meeting his thrusts. “We will make a baby at the rate we are going if we don’t use condoms anymore.” She runs her finger through his hair, “you can’t get enough of me just as I can’t get enough of you…”

His breath is heavy as he contemplates her question, “I wanna have more time with you before we have kids,” he whispered against her lips, “we have only just found each other and we still have time before we start making babies.”

Y/n hummed, agreeing. “Babies?”

Shinsuke shifted her against the wall and began to fasten his thrusts. “Of course… babies… as many babies.”

Their bedroom began resonating with their moans and the sound of skin on skin.

“Shin,” Y/n moaned, “I’m – I’m ovulating – it may not be the best time to cum inside of me.” His hips only seemed to increase with deeper and harder penetration. “Shin… Shin – oh… I’m so…”

His grip on her thighs tighten as he came inside of her, and the thoughts of Y/n ovulating and him cumming inside of her fertile womb tipped him over the edge. Forget his words moments ago about waiting on making babies. “Let’s make a baby now…”

Y/n’s laugh echoed throughout their room as she unwrapped her legs from around his waist, Shinsuke assisted by gently helping her back on her feet. “There’s a high chance we just made one now.” She leaned herself onto the tip of her toes to press her lips against his, for a soft kiss. “But I would love to make a baby with you.”

“Babies,” he corrected, pecking her lips and walking backward, and pulling her along as they both fall onto their bed. “I want babies with you.”

. . .

E/n: I swear, he's just the sweetest man in my head. Now back to editing my other works... or creating new stuff...

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings React To Their Partner Who Age Regresses

Now I myself do not age regress, but I may be trying it out! To help cope with trauma. There is something so comforting about it, so some cute and pure fluff!

((Also, people in the agere community, hi! You are valid, real, and loved. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’ll be ok, sug!

Writing Commissions open

William ‘Bill’

He doesn’t really fine it odd. He’s been through multiple tips of therapies, as he is a curse breaker. Curse breakers need to make sure their minds remain sharp, and clear, so they have to keep mental health a priority. There is also the fact he was attacked by a werewolf, so he’s been through even more. And lastly, he is the eldest sibling to six. That means when you go into his little space you are in safe hands. He will make sure you are very safe, and taken care of. It comes naturally to him. He doesn’t really need to know a thing, because his body just knows. He knows what to do. Given his werewolf quirks as well you get to have a boyfriend that can sense your needs far easier. So when you need your care giver, he’s already holding you close. Also, well, big puppy stuffy.

Charlie

He’s also an older brother, and works with infant dragons all the time. So dealing with someone who goes into a little space isn’t as difficult as you would think. He is rather curious by it all, however. Not weirded out, but curious. He’s a man that’s traveled the world, somehow more so than the likes of Bill. It’s dumb to not live life with an open mind. He’s willing to learn, and wants to take care of you. You develope a rather maternal nature, when you work with new borns all the time. It’ll be nice to have a more human little to work with. Given his strength, and warmth, he makes for a wonderful cuddle bug. He makes you feel so small, with how easy he can pick you up. It helps you drift into your little space alot easier, and doesn’t feel as weird. Just into his arms you go, and you know you couldn’t be safer

Percy

He’s found it very strange. He’s always been very prissy and uptight, after all. What do you mean you just act like a child? Fred and George do that already! He’s honestly a big ass about it, until Bill pulls him aside. Trying to explain it more properly to him, before he goes and says something he will regret. It takes a while, but he’s soon reading up on it. Might as well learn about it. That’s kinda how it started, really. You would come to him, when you needed your moment, and he would read you stories. He won’t lie, it was comforting. Reminded him of when he helped teach his younger siblings how read. Maybe there is something to this age regression thing. There’s a weird comfort. How he can just take care of you, and you trust him enough to know he will. It takes a while, but he is willing to learn. For you

Fred

He runs a joke shop. If anyone is going to know how to handle a kid, it’s him. Also, older brother quirks. Doesn’t really phase him either. You act younger sometimes? Don’t we all? He’s going to be the best care giver. Especially since he did mature a bit, from running a shop. So don’t think you weaseled your way into endless candy. Can’t have his precious kiddo sick! As being a bit more mature, he also has things a bit more calculated. A designated toy box’s to keep your kid stuff secure, and private. Willing to drop everything if you need him. Even happily have you play with your toys, in his office, as he works. Very much taking on a very solid dad role. Wouldn’t be to surprising if he knew about age regression before he met you. He likes to keep up to date with the kids, so he can better care for them. Such as what products they would like. He’s calculated, but not like a robot. Like an actual dad, wanting the best for his kids after all. You included. Oh and don’t you dare forget, they are two for one. Uncle George is going to steal you, when Fred needs to work. Never fear!

George

Much like his twin, you are in safe hands. However, he has a bit more of an emotional approach. He likes to be a bit more hands on with it all. The type to make you chocolate chip pancakes in the morning, and always have a bottle of apple juice ready. He took on the food love from his mother. So you are given plenty of sweet snacks for every occasion. Always finding a way to make sure you meet your nutrient needs, even when small. That way you stay healthy, but not sacrifice the things you love. He knows how that can mess with you. Especially after losing Fred. So, to take care of someone is helping him take care of himself. The ability to just take time out of his day, and be with you, it’s healing. It really is. Your bravery in admiting to this is helping him live such a better life. Just able to hold you, and know that he can protect you. He couldn’t save Fred, but he was able to save you

Ron

Hope you don’t mind, but his ass went running to Hermione for advice. She’s the smartest person he knows. If anyone knows anything about anything, it’s her. He finds it a bit confusing, but Hermione does a beautiful job in explaining it to him. Such as how his brothers do certain things to cope, or do things different because of trauma and stress. You were the same. That helps him figure it out better. Still, it’s a bit complicated for him. He’s worried about messing up, because you are in a rather vulnerable position. Luckily, similar to how the twins are two for one, he’s a three for one. Hermione is more than happy to help you, and Harry is in the same boat as you. He had to cook his uncle, aunt, and cousin, breakfast every morning by the time he learned how to walk. If anyone’s going to understand, it’s going to be him. a pair of parents, and an uncle sometimes sibling. you would be in safe hands.

Ginny

She, more so, went running to her older siblings for advice. Especially Bill. He knows stuff like this after all. It’s confusing, until he explains it. Much like how Hermione would with Ron. After some time, she figured out how to make it work. She didn’t really know if she could pull it off, but she is a Weasley. She is too stubborn to back down from a challenge. Her care taker role would follow more of an older sibling dynamic. She’s found it pretty nice, really. She was always jealous that her brothers got to have younger siblings. She had to be the last one, and that takes a toll after a while. Especially in a family so big. It’s a nice way to live out something like that. You can’t complain about it. Especially since, similar to Charlie, she’s yanking you into the air. All that Quidditch sure pays off. A older sibling is rather comforting. Familia love is soothing to the soul. You both get that gentle moment. She gets to be a big sister, and you get one. So warm, and safe.

[velvet-vox]

The paradoxical nature of Qilby: part 2

Going back to the end of the previous part where I declared Qilby an autism icon, it came to me the realisation that autism is really the only way to justify some of Qilby's actions and odd behaviour; as a big brother and autistic person myself I also would force the people I care about to engage in my interests, I understand on a subconscious level that what I am doing is wrong, but I just care about it so much that I need to share it with them at all costs.

(Even though I would never go as far as starting a war with another species just to force my race to go on a family trip with me).

And like, no offence to Yugo or the Elatrope council but it is my theory that all the Yugo haters have begun popping up due to some people head cannon that him and his family is inadvertently ableist, which (although I might agree considering their dynamic and who their mother is) I don't think it's completely warranted; as someone else pointed out if mental health and psycho analysis existed in the Krosmoz then Nox would have never come to be; if somebody explained what autism is to Yugo then maybe he would be more lenient on Qilby (or maybe not, after all he is his brother), Nora also doesn't know about autism but she is more accepting of Qilby's oddities even if she doesn't like them, and Qilby SURE AS HECK DOESN'T KNOW WHAT AUTISM IS.

Side note: Shinonome is not necessarily autistic, since my sister understands me perfectly and she isn't on the autism spectrum herself, but she clearly has inherited her more passive personality from her mother while Qilby has probably taken more from his father meaning that even if she was she probably wouldn't go about it in the boisterous manner of his twin.

However all of this is just a head canon and not the focus of this post. What I instead want to point out and analyse is the list-like approach of Qilby to anything and how that reflects the way many autistic people approach mostly every conflict in their life. Let me explain:

The way this list-like methodology works is entirely centered around a priority system, so basically Qilby schematizes in his head what he needs to do and say in which order and he has to follow it religiously in order to get anything done, so like on his to do list there is:

First: Confront Adamai and Grougal. Second: Get Rushu's army and alliance. Third: Confront Yugo and Phaeris and take them out. Fourth (interchangeable with third): Get the Dofus. Fifth: Go the Emrumb to get the children. And Sixth: Leave the planet.

And he has to do them in this order because this is the way that he has envisioned them.

This is also reflected in the way that he goes about science and space travel: he reaches a planet, discovers his species, analyses them, classifies them, compartmentalizes them, collects some, rinse and repeat in the next world.

And finally, I want to bring up his two most famous sentences of season 4 to showcase how this priority based thought process carries on to his speech pattern and family view.

"My dear Yugo, we are brothers, before being enemies"

See?

Qilby realises on his relationship list that Yugo is its enemy, but that before that he is its brother, that's what has the biggest priority for him in this moment and in general. But that's not even the most interesting part:

"Farewell Yugo. My brother, my king."

This phrase of course has been plastered all over the fanbase, but like.... did anybody ever think about how weird this sentence is? You would expect Qilby to say brother as his last word, as a final acceptance nod to the fact that deep down he does care about Yugo. But no. Instead he says:

"Good luck"(the situation's dramatic, so he's giving Yugo an encouragement as the first thing)

"My brother,"(Yugo is his demigod brother born from another Dofus)

"My king."(lastly, Yugo is also his king, as sentenced by Chibi in a previous life)

Qilby could have just called Yugo brother as his last word to show that he cares, but instead he decides to call him king, a title that means very little to him on their relationship chart, to show that he values him so much that he is going to use a term that means very little to him just to let Yugo know that he is willing to acknowledge the part of their brotherhood that he doesn't care about as a substitute acceptance nod to the aspect of their dynamic that he values the most.

<<<<Previous part

Nox analysis

Oropo analysis

[themonotonysyndrome]

Hello, Mono!

I was curious, what would Deirdre and Dain’s parents do if there was ugly, and I mean UGLY things being said about them in the Press? I mean things that are just straight untrue, and goes BEYOND disrespectful. The best example I could think of would be something like, (i’ll take from whats being said about current celebs irl), like either of their children being called awful names, saying things about either of their kids weights, or just plainly being mean.

And for context, the kids did nothing to deserve it. Never said anything bad, or ruffled feathers.

How do you think Celly and Castin would react each? I feel like heads would roll, but im also curious as to who would be involved? Would anyone outside the parents make an effort to stop it?

Sorry if its an odd question, just something thats been on my mind. Have a good day, Mono!

I love this ask so much, Anon!

Because, aww, would you look that? Looks like the newspaper firm and a few journalists have forgotten who Celica is! They must not care about their loved ones because the moment they dare slander her children? Well, expect them to be 'mysteriously' injured one by one. Not killed. Just injured on the brink of death. They can try all they want to point fingers at the Baroness, but c'mon, this is a game she played when she was 14. You'd really think there'd be any evidence pointed at her?

If they were, well, her Knight would visit the manor to give her a reminder.

Anyway, she'll continue to target their friends, lovers, families, and pets until they beg at her feet, beg her to stop.

But that's not gonna be enough, though, because it's not her that they need to apologise, no? It's to the toddlers, Dain and Deirdre. So what Celica would do is dress her babies like the little prince and princess they are, have them on her lap, and let those people grovel for forgiveness. The very lives of their loved ones hinge on the whims of toddlers.

As for Castin? This would be the only time he would turn a blind eye to what his wife was doing. Although he's beyond pissed off at the journalist and newspaper firm, his main priority is to make sure the twins know nothing about what's going on. And since they're still young, they remain blissfully unaware, it's pretty easy.

When Rhett heard about this, he can't really do anything because, again, there's no evidence. He would try to talk to Castin and ask him to calm his wife the fuck down but would be dismayed that Castin would just shrug and say, "Shit happens."

Isolde would definitely check up on Celica afterwards. The moment she read how the twins were slandered, she knew she couldn't stop her bestie anyway.

At least no one died, right?

[emmatgc]

Twin Flame ❤️

Tommy x Grace

The scene of Polly saying "or maybe its time you forget about her" and Tommy replying "forget about who?" is very poignant to me in the whole series and I'm sure to all viewers esp Tommy x Grace shippers. The acting and delivery was superb. The feelings oozing on the screen. We felt it.

Little did we know that line would foreshadow what's gonna happen and expose the mind of Tommy from the beginning, in between the break up, the reunion and her death.

Tommy has always been a conflicted and tormented man. He says this yet does exactly the opposite at times. But with Grace, he is ride or die, hell or heaven, he means what he says. Its black or white regardless his methods are greyish and blurry. Plain and simple, his feelings for Grace was never in question. Never in doubt.

To be fair, he tried to move on. He really did. She held on though. He let her go once, she left. I believe he really believed there's no future for them. I believe he thought he doesn't deserve her for both reasons-she was different and she hurt him. It is very interesting to me that never once Tommy brought up any anger or animosity about the so called "betrayal" of Grace in the show directly. The reunion scene was more of her being married to a rich guy. Hardly real anger. Polly did, yes but in a bigger picture, it is heavily implied, it was her job. An actual job. She got the best of her job and in the process lost her one true love at that time. They say all is fair in love and war but neither was true.

Both lost something. Both used each other. Both hurt each other. But the most amazing thing was? Neither of them cared. Neither was mad enough to let go. Neither was sane enough to move on. Neither was reasonable enough to hate or take revenge against one another. For above all of it was love. Love. Respect. Integrity. They were fighting for causes they believed in. In reality, that is a fight worth fighting for ever damn time.

Tommy fell in love with a woman fighting for a cause she believed in. She was not perfect, oh no, she was very flawed, too. But Tommy?heck he was the worse of them all, the family I mean. No sugar coating. Tommy was not a simple man. He was bad, in a lot of ways. But yes, he had redeemable qualities. Twin flames, they were. For better or worse.

See, their worse is not worse though. Theirs was a shining beacon of hope. What they had was a promise of tomorrow, a brighter future and a peaceful life. All colors of Tommy and Grace were brighter, clearer and bigger. That's deliberate by the show. Not coincidence.

So, 2 years without her don't mean a thing. He chose to let her stay-in his mind, heart and soul. She moved on but see that's one of her biggest mistakes. Grace, for me I believe was the one angry he didn't followed her or stopped her the 1st time. Tommy's ego would not allow that plus Tommy loves Grace too much to force her into staying . He respects her too much to make up her own mind. It upsets many Tommy fans that Tommy was passive, indecisive about Grace like dude, forget about her already! You have your whores, etc..she is just another woman, there will be others as Polly said. Yet, there was none.

Tommy held on. Grace held on. Despite the odds. Both patiently waited under dire circumstances. Both went through the uncertainties and dangers, the family objection, the doomed life and for what? For Love. So, no, nobody forgot. Nobody truly moved on. Nobody let go. Those 2 years be damned. Didn't put a dent to Tommy's feelings. Grace loved Tommy, she came back but Tommy fell harder. She was his oxygen. His air and water. You don't forget that. You simply can't. She leaves him breathless after all.

When after all is said and done, all Grace had to do was say "It's me" and the battlefield is back and Tommy is alive again. Love is a battlefield for Tommy. Grace had no one left only Tommy. Tommy had so many baggage but Grace was a priority. Grace warned her. She took his heart and never gave it back. Not because she doesn't want to but because he doesn't want to give it back nor give it to someone else. He allowed his heart to be taken away, broken and repaired only to be broken again. He doesn't care at all. If Only for her. Only with her. They will always find each other. Twin Flame, Tommy and Grace.

[skye-huntress]

I’m in Love with the Villainess Reaction

Episode 12 / Finale

I feel like they could have skipped the OP and just showed the title like so many other shows.

Guess they don’t plan on leaving us in limbo, they skipped straight to Manaria’s confrontation.

Seriously, Manaria, you’re the one who was trying to drive Rae away and now you’re mad at her because you succeeded. Like I get what you were doing, but maybe opening this test of yours up with a magic duel of all things wasn’t your best approach. You beat her so badly and completely you crushed her spirit.

Her methods aside, at least we’re getting to the heart of the issue now. Rae’s love for Claire is not as selfless as she claims, how could it be? She wants Claire to love her back, to be in a relationship with her but she was afraid of being rejected.

In many ways, Manaria and Rae are similar, which is part of why Manaria knows she can’t leave Rae alone, lest she make the same mistake she did.

I hate to say it, but after everything that happened, this had to be the last card Manaria could play. Claire’s safety and wellbeing is still Rae’s priority. The only reason she could even imagine leaving Claire’s side is because she knows Manaria could protect her from any threat, even if that threat is Claire herself. But if Manaria is the one who becomes the threat…

“Again, I wasn’t consulted.” Look, Claire, you were free to step in at any time but you let this play out. You allowed your affection for Manaria to blind you, but everyone else from your minions to the Princes knew what was going on.

Sorry, Claire, you’re too late to stop this and Rae doesn’t have the time to idle about, not with what she’s looking for.

Ah, the tediousness of farming for that ultra rare drop.

Claire kept that necklace Rae gave her the entire time. In fact, she’s been wearing it everyday since. It’s proof that she wants to believe in Rae’s love, if only she wasn’t given so many reasons to doubt.

Woah, woah, woah, that vision of the future! They didn’t just include the two together, and their house, they also showed the twins! Don’t tease me like that, I want to see it all in anime form! If only the odds for a second season weren’t so low, this wouldn’t hurt so much!

Damn, Rae is going all in and all out. That line made more sense in my head.

Yes, Claire, tell us how you really feel! None of this will matter if you’re not even honest with yourself or with Rae.

All those damn expectations of being a noble lady. Let’s be frank, nobles don’t marry for love, marriage is a formal contract between families.

Predictable. This is yet another contest that is practically rigged in Manaria’s favour. There is no offering known to be heavier than the Flower of Flora, so the best you could hope for is a tie, and even that is a difficult feat, given how rare that flower is and how difficult it is to obtain.

Ugh, more poems. And it’s so obviously fake, too. You’re just reciting someone else’s words that don’t carry the same meaning or feeling as the original.

Cutting it a little close there, Rae.

Wow, Manaria actually looks happy to see Rae, meanwhile Claire is immediately concerned by the state she is in.

Manaria has a flower of legend, and Rae has what looks like a random stick. Not hard to imagine the reaction she’d get.

They have no faith in her. As if Rae hasn’t proven that she tends to know more than she could possibly know.

Well, Misha, you got your miracle.

Rod, don’t act like you didn’t have your own doubts not two seconds ago.

YES! THAT’S HOW YOU DO IT! THAT’S A REAL CONFESSION OF LOVE!

That 180 is just as jarring in anime form. It’s like this girl just forgot she’s been playing the role of the villainess for the past few weeks.

Look at Claire’s hand, like it’s still searching for Rae’s.

The most shocking part about this is Manaria is actually serious. In fact, at this point in the novel Rae suddenly remembers a little bit of trivia about Manaria from the game. It was possible that Manaria might confess feelings for the protagonist, not that it actually led to anything if she did.

This is even better than the novels and manga, Claire didn’t just yell her true feelings (and Rae’s name, finally), she actually grabbed Rae and put herself between them.

Oh, how we missed this banter. It’ll take a bit longer for Claire to get over that knee-jerk reaction but now we know she doesn’t actually mean it.

That crowd’s getting a full show today. The following year’s festival is going to be a snore fest in comparison.

Early credit again, I see.

Someone actually made an accurate prediction that the story of Poesie Amour was foreshadowing Rae and Manaria’s fates. Like the two suitors in the story, Rae would go on to marry Claire, while Manaria would go on to be a great queen. I can’t believe it never occurred to me before, not even on rereads when I knew the outcome.

No, no, Rae has a right to feel the way she does. Manaria spent most of the time being a menace to Rae, stomped all over her feelings and even threatened Claire. Even if it was all ultimately for her benefit, that doesn’t erase all the emotional damage or the scars.

Wow, Rae, you just figured it out. And yeah, there very likely was a better way to go about it, but Manaria has already admitted she’s kind of a shitty person.

After those confessions, everyone’s pretty much accepted that they’ll be getting together.

I’m surprised more people haven’t confronted Rae about the things she seems to know. I suppose everyone else is taking the wait and see approach, but since she’s leaving, Manaria had to ask now.

As has been hinted many times, a revolution is coming, and those don’t tend to end well for the people in power. Even if Claire doesn’t turn full Villainess, she’ll still likely be executed for no other reason than that she is a noble. That is the future Rae has been working to prevent.

Look at their classmates, they clearly have no idea how to react, yet all their friends have accepted that this is just the way they are, even as a couple.

And that’s a wrap. While I’ll keep my fingers crossed for a Season 2, I will recommend that novels and manga. The next few arcs are particularly interesting. Personally, I’m a big fan of Chapter 6: Yu’s Secret (FYI, this episode ended Chapter 4: The Scales of Love). That chapter is packed with all sorts of good and interesting stuff.

[bcrcavcd]

@sisturn complains: “why are we going grave-robbing again?” abigail drifts to wendy’s side, her brow quirked, “aren’t there other places to get rare stuff? preferably without seeing a skeleton. those give me the heeby-jeebie—”

a small blue specter rises from a nearby headstone, making a pitiful wailing sound. abigail’s eyes narrow, and she immediately puts herself between wendy and the other ghost. the deceased twin moans irritably, swatting at him; the little spirit squeaks, retreating behind the headstone. he peeks out from behind it, looking between the twins with wide eyes. his gaze settles on wendy, and he gives a tiny whine — “scary! scary! help?” — while abigail still glowers at him, practically puffing herself up like an angry bird.

"Because the others at camp are too scared to get things from here..." Wendy illuminates, seeming as completely annoyed by the prospect of coming here as Abigail was. The last time they'd come here had felt so recent, and already the adults were out of gold? It felt preposterous in all honesty, to send a child out with the specters of the world. Wendy didn't mind going there at that point, finding herself at peace with all the doom and gloom around her. That didn't make it fair, however, and she felt a right to complain about it.

However, things change once the specter appears. Usually, the only times they would appear was if they were disturbed, or the full moon was present. Considering it was the middle of the day, that ruled out the latter, and she hadn't even begun digging up the graves yet. So, what was this one doing out?

With that in mind, Wendy also notices how small the ghost seems to be. She and Abigail were only ten, and yet the latter appeared the same size as the other ghosts, so the only thought that passed her mind was one that brought her great sadness. A smaller child than even she, forced into this world and unable to live through it. That poor child... No wonder it was awoken by their presence, such a restless soul must live behind those downtrodden eyes.

He wants help... Perhaps, from her annoyed sister who had every reason to be wary. The living sister was not, though. Such a small creature, he likely couldn't hurt a fly, could he? Much more frightened of them than they ever could be of him. So, she takes that first leap and turns to Abigail, hoping that her words would be enough to calm her down. "I know we don't often see creatures that are completely harmless, but I don't think there's anything we need to be worried about here..." She replies in her normal monotone, before she turns her attention fully to the little ghost.

"It's alright... I won't let Abigail hurt you, she just gets scared for me is all," Once that focus shifts, Wendy seems to be a lot softer in her toning, something that would be odd for anyone who knew her well. Maybe it was just the fact that the child was so young. Or maybe she felt pity for his situation. In any sense, her main priority was making sure the young one felt safe, even if there wasn't much he needed to worry about.

"It's awfully strange to see one like you without some sort of disturbance... Is there something that keeps you from your rest?" It was the least she could do, offering to help where she could. It didn't mean she would be able to do it, but at the very least she could hear him out. "I don't want you to think I can do anything, but the two of us will see what we can do to help..."

[snow-system-wol]

As much as Menphina's goal was subtlety -- if she was needed, then that took priority.

(Menphina + Wuk Lamat POVs) ~2.8k

Ao3

[Spoilers up til start of lv94 msq]

You were quite capable of counting, especially for a number as low as four. From the moment that Alphinaud decided he should stay behind to help an injured man while the rest of you went onward, you quickly realized the potential issue... group combat composition.

Wuk Lamat was more than capable of leading and defending this group, and had already proved it in the last few days. Your beloved charge, S'ria, was merely a fighter, steel in his hands and a spare holstered pistol.

The issue lay, then, with Krile and Alisaie being the only remaining two. Krile had proven herself an asset on the battlefield, and you would be glad to have her – and Alisaie was really a sight to behold once you really let her go after enemies.

But oh, Menphina… you could see the problem. If Alphinaud were not present, who would take care of the rest? Who would keep Wuk Lamat on her feet while she risked her life for you?

You could easily see the potential outcome as well, if you kept quiet – Alisaie would offer. Wonderful, brilliant Alisaie, drawing her battle prowess away from the fight to do something she was not fully equipped to do and would surely find incredibly draining.

You had the aether to handle it, though, the diversity of knowledge to help the group as much as possible, and you wanted Alisaie where it suited her well. The best outcome was for you to take S'ria's place for the climb up this mountain.

The only singular problem was that you were trying to avoid such a thing.

You were not certain about the ramifications of your existence being known. The Scions were rather kind about it, and you felt no shame in being the way you were, but you were also well aware that there were certain… judgements that may be made, if the Warrior of Light’s multiple selves were to be known to others. Your intentions, which S'ria had no complaints over, were to not share such things frivolously.

But there was no such thing as subtlety for a maneuver like this. Despite the way she may compare herself negatively to Koana, Wuk Lamat was quite bright and perceptive. And Erenville was very quick, even if his demeanor did not give much away on what he knew.

There would be far too many tells to alert both of them, even with Erenville keeping his distance during combat. Your stances, skills, magicks – they bore no resemblance to S'ria's. In fact – for those who fought alongside him, it should have become rather clear at that point that S'ria did not use magic. So for him to cast aside fighting to take on a healer's role would be impossibly suspicious, and that did not even take your own personal mannerisms into account.

You acted rather differently than him with loved ones like the twins, and – try as you might to keep your voice more like his, that would not last long into a heated battle.

So be it. Whatever was best for your family.

“You need not worry – Wuk Lamat, if you lead the way, I shall keep us safe.”

While she looked at you with very clear surprise, you were at least not questioned about your capacity for the role. You received a simple smile and “thank you”, and that was all.

Alisaie slid closer to you, pitching her voice to something soft. (You hadn't the heart to tell her that you were fairly certain Hrothgar had the same sharp hearing as you did and Wuk Lamat may hear regardless.)

“Yes, I am.” You placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder – missing once due to forgetting she had become nearly as tall as you now. “All will be well.”

“Are you certain?”

---------

Wuk Lamat tended to be rather focused in battle, but at the foot of the mountain, all was yet quiet and S'ria held her full attention. She loved the opportunity to learn more about her traveling companions, but it was simply so odd when it conflicted with what she'd already figured out about him.

S'ria was a simple sort in battles. He did as much damage as possible. He drew the attention of enemies away from his friends when they were in trouble, but seemed happy to defer to Wuk Lamat when she was in the fight. He had his weapons – a viper’s, if she was not mistaken, but he did not use their fighting styles – and a gun that she had yet to see him shoot.

S'ria did not weave spells. He carried no stave or spellbook or whatever Alphinaud was wielding.

So why then would he offer so freely to heal?

Having been by his side for so long already and seeing what he could do, Wuk Lamat would not question his judgment or capabilities.

They began up the mountain trail and Wuk Lamat caught the motions of S'ria removing his necklace from his shirt, undoing the tie, and lacing it about his wrist instead. She saw the briefest glimmer of something crystalline in his hand before it closed around the pendant.

There, that was his Focus, he was a caster after all. Surely that explained it all – if she did not question any further strangeness.

Even if she put his sudden role shift aside, there were other oddities.

Firstly, the way he moved. There was a grace to it now – not that there wasn't before, but it had been more like the grace of a coeurl stalking its prey, and this was something else.

When they stumbled across their first pack of enemies, most was as Wuk Lamat expected. There was a warmth settling in her veins at S'ria's continuous healing, but it was a different matter when she suddenly felt strength fill her body. She kept a half-eye on S'ria and that time she saw it – a series of delicate dance steps, looking light on his feet despite her knowing the truth of how much his leg bothered him. Wuk Lamat knew she was in danger of making silly mistakes if she didn't stop looking at S'ria, but these few simple enemies were not dangerous enough to make her do so.

Instead she watched S'ria make a few careful movements – and she swore she heard soft bell-like sounds ring out as though jewelry was jostled by his dance steps, despite S'ria not wearing anything like that – and then a barely visible wave of aether swept the area and that newfound strength returned again.

That was definitely all unusual, to be sure – though she enjoyed the help.

Additionally, there remained the matter of S'ria's… voice. It was never particularly low, aside from the few times she'd seen him fully angry, but it was still an entirely different pitch. The simple short call-outs – “Look out!”, “I have you”, “Hold on” – they were higher and more melodic than S'ria ever spoke. 

Or, for that matter, that simply wasn't S'ria.

There was no other way to put it – that simply wasn't his voice. 

 ----------

Wuk Lamat had wanted to say something, at the top of the mountain, but a screech rent the air so horribly that any thought of it left her mind. When she looked at S'ria, there was a familiar sharpness in his eyes again, a determination to fight. All seemed normal enough.

 ----------

Wuk Lamat hadn't imagined it. S'ria was back to acting like he did on the mountain once they returned to the village – healing the worst injuries with practiced skill and a gentle voice. It was the same as they went off to go fight Valigarmanda – his weapons remained fully holstered.

To be honest, she felt like there was… something she was on the outside of. The rest of their group was surely sharp enough to notice the differences. But Alisaie and Krile seemed unbothered, Alphinaud back in town had easily fallen into healing alongside S'ria, and those other two Scions – Urianger and Thancred, she recalled – looked only briefly surprised. After that singular moment of shock from them, Urianger had simply nodded and smiled at S'ria, drawing a card with a flourish.

Much later, after the battle, Wuk Lamat realized that the moment must have been Urianger agreeing to work together as healers – without exchanging so much of a word… they all truly did seem to know each other well. It was a bittersweet feeling, somehow.

 ---------

Wuk Lamat had not fully forgotten in the few days since, but she was also bogged down by her own thoughts that had quite little to do with S'ria. Or at least, not directly – they more so concerned S'ria's role as her companion in this journey, not he himself. She'd shaken off much of the doubt that’d plagued her, but it was a weight not fully lifted.

So it was not until they prepared to journey to Yak T’el that she was fully reminded of what'd previously been a lingering question in her mind.

Wuk Lamat knew there was no need to hide being afraid. Her companions had already seen how she handled boats, after all, and it was easier to bear these things when not trying to force on a brave face. 

S'ria had at least insisted the airship was far less likely to make her nauseous, but that didn't stop the far more pressing fear of instead falling out of the sky. She could not stop her legs from feeling weak at the idea of being so high up in the air – but even so, it was a surprise for the words to suddenly slip out, all but begging S'ria to hold her hand for reassurance.

There was a small shift in his stance… his back straightening, shoulders relaxing, eyes softening – and then S'ria was offering his hand and pulling her onto the airship deck with a gentle smile. 

They both sat down, shoulder to shoulder and hands still clasped, and Wuk Lamat tried not to overreact to the shuddering of the ship preparing to take off. S'ria was so kind, distracting her with promises that all was well and trying to keep her attention. She felt as though she should've been offended, with him purring and murmuring that she'll be okay like she was a child – yet somehow she was entirely at peace with this behavior. It just didn't feel demeaning in the ways that it really should've, just oddly soothing.

But it raised the same point as the prior days – S'ria didn't really act or sound like this.

So it was at a campfire in the forest, resting for the night partway to Iq Br’aax, that Wuk Lamat finally found an opportunity.

It'd been quiet for some time. Food had been eaten, chatter had died down, and now it was only the fire crackling. 

“S'ria – can I ask you about something?”

Well, she put it out there at least. It may be clunky and inelegant to navigate the question to follow, but the first step was at least done. 

S'ria nodded, a touch hesitantly, and Wuk Lamat did not miss a sharp look shared between both twins – it felt like, royalty or not, that she would incur their eternal wrath depending on what she next said. It did not make it any easier or less nerve-wracking to choose her words.

“I just want to start by saying that you are a close friend and ally, and I trust you…”.

S'ria had enough time in the pause to narrow his eyes, face otherwise kept neutral. “...but?”

Wuk Lamat put her hands up, quickly shaking her head. “No, no, it's not a ‘but’ so much as a – can I start over?” She took a slow breathe in and out. “You were really kind and helpful on Worqor Zormor! And earlier this afternoon, you were so nice to me – it made getting here way less stressful than I'd thought.” She crossed her arms thoughtfully. “You just weren't acting at all like you usually do. Not that you aren't usually nice – but it was just… different.”

Wuk Lamat could not tell if it'd been the way she wanted to put it, foreign territory as this chat with S'ria was, but her actual point of curiousity had finally been said.

Perhaps it was not hers alone. Erenville was not sitting with them, but rather some few yalms away, sorting through supplies under the cover of a tent. Despite how preoccupied he seemed, she caught the movement of his ears the moment she brought up S'ria's odd changes in demeanor.

S'ria himself definitely was not confused about the question – his responding sigh sounded more defeated than anything else.

“If we are traveling together long-term like this, I suppose it's only right that you know.”

Alisaie turned sharply towards S'ria, nudging his shoulder. “You do not have to, you know.”

S'ria smiled at her. “No, I – I think it's good for allies to know, and I'm trying to be less ashamed of it myself. I simply… hope that it does not make me seem less capable of an ally.”

Wuk Lamat leaned forward, resting her elbows on her legs. “We’ve already been traveling and  together for most of a moon. I don't think anything you say is going to make me doubt your fighting abilities, I know you have my back.” 

“Ah.” S'ria's tail agitatedly flicked behind him. “Well, I guess that's… Ugh, I still don't know how best to put it though. Easily too clinical and too personal.” He closed his eyes for a moment, eyebrows drawing close together. “Sometimes I'm me, and sometimes I'm Menphina – and sometimes we're working together. It's one body, but not one mind. And you met Menphina those times you mean instead of me.” S'ria winced. “That wasn't a good explanation, but I don't want to tell my whole life story just for it to be clearer”.

It took Wuk Lamat several moments to piece together the details and implications. Oh. Oh!

She sat up as S'ria looked away, his body betraying fear. That needn't be the case – she understood perfectly now, it was fine. She beamed at him when she responded.

“Just like Papa!”

Whatever S'ria was expecting in response… that did not seem to be it, because he stared blankly at Wuk Lamat for several long and silent seconds.

“Huh?”

“Well, there's the Heads of Reason and Resolve – they each have their own personalities and skills, but they're both still Papa.”

S'ria blinked, still processing. “I'm sorry, I wasn't prepared for such an… excited response. I guess that's not an off-base comparison – but there are more than just Menphina and me, and our body is the same as anyone else's.” He laughed quietly, adding another comment more to himself than to her. “Though, I guess calling Fray as Resolve and Menphina as Reason wouldn't be wrong.”

Wuk Lamat tilted her head in curiousity, but shelved questions about this “Fray” for another time. Clearly there were at least three then, yes. She looked at S'ria and a frown snuck onto her face. “You seemed really scared to tell me this. For us, the Blessed Siblings are admired and praised, not shunned.” She held back a comment about how ones like Bakool Ja Ja could perhaps do with a little less praise and shook her head to clear it from her mind. “Is that… not how it is for you back home?”

Wuk Lamat immediately knew it was the wrong thing to ask, the way his face closed off.

“It really isn't. I wasn't born like this, it's more… a condition.” He sighed heavily. “Look, maybe a dozen people on the entire star are aware of the others – Menphina and the rest, I mean. It isn't the sort of thing that's safe to be public knowledge. I'm… sure I don't need to tell you two that this is a secret?”

You two? Wuk Lamat glanced to her side and saw a startled Erenville, who had seemingly forgotten at some point that he was at least pretending not to be listening. With how quiet the man could be, she was sure S'ria hadn't even needed to warn him to stay silent on the matter.

…Or perhaps it was a good idea, she'd heard a rumor that gleaners could be notorious gossips.

Regardless, Wuk Lamat had not realized how few people were allowed to know this – and yet, S'ria had told her.

“Thank you, for sharing something this important with me. I won't betray your trust.”

Wuk Lamat laughed, well-aware of the situation. "Yes, officially."

S'ria smiled at her. “I know you won't. I wouldn't have told you if I was worried about that.” Despite his words, there was a clear note of relief in his voice. He laughed to himself. “Well, considering who else knows, I guess this makes you two honorary Scions.” His eyes widened and he hastily flung out the obligatory follow up. “Of course, not that the Scions exist anymore, we disbanded. Officially.”

[tsuki-sennin]

The Scheme has entered an InteRmission. The game's not over until the Game Master says it's over, so we find ourselves being turned against one another.

What kinda sick game is being played here? Who will win or lose? How will the fox be hunted?

Only one way to find out~! Join me in the lobby for this special edition of Spoilers, I guess...

Remember! If you don't fight, you don't survive!

-Tsumuri seems quite sick of Giroli's shit. Can't really say I blame her.

-I see there's a number of Glare Troopers. ...I assume that's what we're calling them for now until we get an official name.

-"Fuck you Tsumuri. This is my game, you're just an NPC."

-Geats.

-No intro, huh? Wonder if we'll get something like Ex-Aid where there's a long stretch of episodes where the main theme is just that episode's insert.

-Whoever skins the fox becomes God.

-Keiwa's very mad!

-"Why must Riders fight one another!? I've had enough violence!"

-Keiwa :(

-Oh Neon...

-"I see how it is. I have to kick both your asses to keep my godhood. I don't mind. I'm okay with this. Really."

-Yeah, I know you guys don't.

-PUNKJACK AAAA

-HARERUYA WAKE UP MAN

-If you don't fight, you don't survive!

-Ooooooh, making him mad!

-You dirty bastard!

-The gun has more gun!

-Wiiiiin!

-Punkjack is gone.

-The rain has come.

-Fuck you, man.

-The betrayal on their faces, aaaaagh

-Well, seems like somebody's aiming for Godhood.

-Tsumuri-neesan :)

-She brought snacks :)

-He's very lonely, you see.

-What is the point of the fox man's life?

-Mitsume...

-Nooooooo :(

-Hello, Sara-neesan.

-Well, at least she's got understandable goals.

-Keiwa really b goin through it :pensive:

-Heeeeey, Keiwa... buddy... if you wanna talk,

-Dinner...

-"What's wrong, Neon, sweetie :)"

-Yep, Daddy's paying a lot of money for a bunch of assholes to shoot plant people.

-Keiwaaaaa :(

-Oh, the Glare Troopers just

-Change on a whim, okay

-Hunter-san.

-I swear, every time I see Riders fight each other, as overplayed as it may feel, I go "Noooooooo, you're supposed to be bestieeeees! :(("

-Set.

-Set.

-Time for the duel between the Raising Swords.

-Ready, Fight!

-Bust up that warehouse, fellas.

-Full Charge! Twin Set!

-Jet vs. Cannon!

-Push that big-ass hunk-a metal!

-Oh here comes Giroli, with his haxxor admin privelege!

-Delete!

-Ah, so Glare's magic purple balls are straight up weapons too, okay

-OOOOOOOH KEIWA LET'S GOOOO

-GET FUCKED, GAME MASTER

-Niram! Hello!

-The Game Master has been fired.

-Hell yeah Na-Go!

-Oh, he straight up blew up Hareruya.

-"You're fired, bitch."

-Everybody fought for their dreams, in a game full of people just as skilled and terrifying as they are.

-...Keiwa, I agree with you but like... Da-Paan literally attempted genocide, I don't think you should be remembering him that fondly.

-Fuck you, we're not wasting our chance we're taking it!

-Them :)

-Oh whoops, he still strong!

-Kinda love how like

-Skilled female Riders are as of late.

-I'd kinda prefer if they got flashy upgrades too but the way they manage to keep up with odd but versatile abilities is pretty epic, I'll happily admit.

-Oh!

-Giroli has been fired!

-Very replaceable~!

-Goodbye, Giroli.

-"Good job everybody! I hope you all have a good day~!"

-Cats and tanuki trick people too, fox boy :)

-Now we can trick and fight together with impunity~!

-Priority entry~!

-Kamen Riders, let's go~!

-Archimedel, hello!

-Ohhhhh, that's Michinaga's body!

-DON'T LICK HIM EWW

-OOOOOOOOH ZOMBIE SAVED HIM

-Entertainment~!

-The most popular movie star in the world! A celebrity streamer from a multibajillion dollar conglomerate! Some guy!

-These three are the heroes of the Desire Grand Prix!

-Eyes all over the place!

-Bitches from Helheim to CooKingdom to Ideon to Major Land to Planet Police are all waiting with bated breath! Got to go the next round!

-Mr. Kurama, you're kinda fucked in the head for putting your daughter on the line for a reality show.

-Oooooooh, who that!

-...shit, am I part of the problem?

-Oh fuck, new guys.

-I kinda appreciate the constantly rotating cast of Riders.

-It's a nice balance between showing off lots and lots of forms while still giving us new characters to make fun of. The fact that the Riders all have such simplified designs makes it real easy to keep them all straightened out.

-Divergence Game! Please look forward to it!

-Oh shit, that's Powered Builder. That's from the movie!

-See you all next Sunday or so, DGP watchers!

[cannedbabs]

Here’s the whole post explaining this thought process. Was gonna wait awhile to write it out but the brainrot for this guy is real. He’s seeped into my life into deep crevices not a lot of other fixations have and I’m simply his meat puppet typing to spread his name so he truly never dies.

Anywho, big explanation post under the cut :]

The fandom seems to place a bunch of emphasis “oh look at me I won the first place trophy and these other two lost as always 👍”

This is definitely an important part of his character. He obviously gloats according to the flashback scene in WIR, shoving the trophy and his hand in the twins’s faces and making them noticeably recoil. Though I was ruminating on the idea of: what if he didn’t place first?

In the very beginning of the movie (the 30 years ago bit) when we see Turbo Time if you manage to pause you can see all types of kids playing his game. One of which is a kid who can barely see over the poor wheel. What if someone played it didn’t know how to play at first or some other reason? What if turbo placed second, or worst third? Honestly I don’t think he’d care. It’s 100% happened before. It’s a bruise on his ego, but he won’t die without placing first (and most definitely wasn’t the reason for going Turbo)

In terms of King Candy there is one race he is concerned with “winning” however, and that is the Random Roster Race. This isn’t for any points or gloat (at least outwardly) and it’s simply to be an option that the players can choose from. Who wouldn’t want to win it?

We can probably assume due to Turbo’s nature he has never not once been included in this roster (he probably justifies his position as king to be partly reason if anyone dares question him). Not to mention he is ALWAYS smack Dab in the middle, both in ‘real life’ when the roster is seen resetting before people put their coins in to qualify (not to mention his picture is the last to disappear… attention hog) and in his “What If” flashback when he’s talking to Ralph about Vanellope not being able to race.

This comes with its set of own other obstacles. Unlike Turbo Time, you can play as any character you chose out of the 9. Sure, King Candy looks most odd out of all of the younger, more specifically themed candy racers, and that may come with some curiosity but… if your ALWAYS included in the roster people won’t want to play you (unless you got some die hard KC racer fans who likes how he plays LOL). If you’re a staple people are gonna wanna try to pick racers they’ve probably never seen before to get the chance to race as a cool new character that hasn’t been added to the roster in a while.

Sooo let’s say Turbo, this man who is used to being played by the racers in every instance has to grasp at straws to get even an ≈11% chance at getting picked. Fine. He’s settled with that for what? 15 years? No biggie.

I’ve compiled a dumb list of what I believe his priorities are in regards to sugar rush going from ���most desired outcome’ to ‘meh it’s okay’ to downright ‘won’t let it happen.’

1. King Candy is added to the roster. King Candy is picked by the players. King Candy wins the race.

2. King Candy is added to the roster. King Candy is picked by the players. King Candy DOESNT win the race (ofc each place after first would be sub categories of this entry)

3. King Candy is added to the roster. King Candy is NOT picked by the players. King Candy wins the race

4. King Candy is added to the roster. King Candy is NOT picked by the players. King Candy DOESNT win the race

5. King Candy is NOT added to the roster.

Turbo can handle loss. He can’t handle the spotlight not being on him, even inadvertently, and he can’t deal with not being *involved*. He went Turbo when he felt like he was being abandoned, even in that brief moment those kids turned heel (I don’t know who made it but someone made a theory that I agree with wholeheartedly that he was abandoned in the middle of a race and thats AUGH) to look at Road Blasters he needed to get involved.

And what did involved look like? Getting them to talk about him. Appearing as part of the game, part of the track, part of the race. We can’t say for certain if he was trying to replace the main car with his (Felix does say he tried to “…take over the new [game]” though I view Turbo as a deeply complex character and Felix as a slightly unreliable narrator for this flashback, so I don’t think it was exactly what Felix THOUGHT it was but yeah. Very similar, at least), but we can say It was to get the attention back on himself at least. Controlled or not, main racer (at first) or not.

((Small footnote that idk where to put it also: KC needing to be on the roster may be some compensation for Sugar Rush not being a cabinet with his likeness on it unlike TT… contrasting Vanellope in some aspects, or something something idk filler thoughts here))

Do I think Turbo values winning? Yes. It’s engrained in his character as a protagonist of his own cabinet. Do I think he’s a sore loser? Oh most definitely. Though I wish more people focused on his need to be talked about, looked at, etc. more. Funniest thing is King Candy (and Turbo) are never truly ever seen alone in any instance, only brief bits (When Turbo is game jumping in the cords… or when KC goes solo to confront Ralph about Vanellope not being able to race: “I come alone!”). Even when silently panicking he has sour bill by his side to fan him (if he was worried about Bill finding out his identity or even getting remotely suspicious he could shoo him away, it’s obvious, but he’s trusting of him enough to even let him ‘help’ with accessing the code room).

Idk!! Lots of things that rattle in my brain. I’m always up for discussions on Turbo. I have conversations with my friends on the daily about stuff like this. Would enjoy hearing other thoughts too :]

Would anyone agree with me in the WIR/Turbo fandom that Turbo doesn’t care about winning as much as people perceive him to or should I see myself out 🫢 /j

(I’ve been doing NUMEROUS character studies on this guy for awhile. Always willing to discuss anything. But this is my main thing I think is commonly misconstrued about his character… and it ofc bleeds over into King Candy as well)

[cinnamonrusts]

bed time with the sparda twins --

all the cuddles, fluff, and bedtime rituals with dante and vergil 💤

-- f!reader (kofi + gif not mine)

DANTE-

The ticking clock in the living room read 10:30pm. Dante yawned loudly which was followed by several loud lip smacks. You fell asleep beside him on the couch, your head rested on the back of the headrest with mouth open wide. The half demon smiles as his tired eyes observe you lovingly, even as a dribble of drool rolls down the side of your chin. How did he get so lucky? What did he do to deserve someone like you? Your gentle and attractive features highlighted the warmth that your heart radiated. 

However, waking you up unleashed the wrath that your gentle soul disguised. Dante put a hand on your thigh and gave you a light shake. You stirred slightly before drifting back to your deep slumber. Your name whispered from his lips while he gave your body another shake. Soon your eyes opened and Dante’s face came into focus. “Hey, sunshine,” he cooed, “Let’s go to bed.”

A tired smile stretched across your lips as his words filled you with love. With a stretch and a loud yawn, you took the hand that Dante lent out and the two of you climbed the stairs to the upper level.

Your bedtime routine was always the same, besides a couple of variances. Dante was the first into the bathroom, he removed all clothing besides his boxers and socks. He pasted both of your toothbrushes and set yours down on the counter where it waited for you. As he peed, he brushed his teeth and hummed the tune to Walking on Sunshine. When you joined him, you picked up the toothbrush and started to brush as Dante continued to hum happily. The two of you observed each other’s reflections in the mirror; a mixture of funny faces and giggles were exchanged.

In Dante’s room was a king sized bed that was directly in the middle of four maroon walls. The small room had one window on the right wall that allowed the pink glow of the neon sign to peak in through the blinds, this gave the bedroom a sort of warmth to it. On either side of the bed were nightstands that were decorated with personal items. Yours had a variety of skincare items, a clock, a teddy bear, and a photo of Dante, Nico, Nero, and yourself (Vergil was nice enough to take the picture). Dante’s was filled with several half empty water bottles, a scattered mess of papers, a photo of the two of you at a fair, and Ebony/Ivory. He kept them on top of his dresser to keep them accessible at all times, if anything were to happen -- keeping you safe was his priority and he felt better with them in close range. 

Other things in the room included a closet which contained your clothing and a large dresser which held Dante’s. His dresser was on the wall that faced the foot of the king sized bed, on top was a medium sized CRT television that occasionally caught signal from the busted antenna on the top of the building. 

As you finished getting ready for bed, Dante rushed into the bedroom to get the bed prepped. He pulled back the plump, black comforters, as well as taking your pillows and giving them a fluff. You stopped in the doorway of the room and leaned against the frame with a smile on your lips as you watched the Sparda man prep your bed. The floorboards squeaked as you shifted your weight which caught his attention - he stopped immediately then spun around with a smile. “Bed’s all ready,” he took a small step toward you, which you took one toward him. Dante then charged into your waist, his arms wrap tightly around your small frame. He lifts you up in the air with ease before resting your body over his right shoulder. Dante slides toward the bed and proceeds to drop you lightly onto the springy mattress.

The white haired male lowers himself down over you with hands on each side of your head. He’s quiet besides the same smile that he’s been wearing all night. “Hi,” you say quietly, “Hey,” he responds. Your skin can feel the warmth of his breath against it which causes goosebumps to rise. Soon his lips are pressed against yours. His kisses always start soft and sweet before growing hungrier with each touch. His white teeth are biting at your lower lip, his tongue is wrestles for dominance inside of your mouth. Dante’s palms that were supporting his weight are now roaming your body as he feels every curve while your fingers stroke his chin stubble. You can feel his boxers rise against your thigh but before anything can move any further, he stops.

Dante pulls away and cups your cheek with his rough palm. His thumb strokes your skin softly as his blue orbs take in your e/c eyes. He suggests that the two of you crawl under the covers and get comfortable. You agree and crawl to the side of the bed where you normally slept, Dante joining you on the other side while draping the blankets over your frames. His strong arm wraps around you and pulls you close to his bare chest. Your head rests on his warm skin and you can feel his heartbeat slow from the quickened pace that it was beating at. Dante turns on the television and flips through several channels of static before stopping on a late night re-run of a comedy movie. You can feel your eyes getting heavy with each blink.

Light snores vibrate in your throat as you fell asleep again on your partner. He can hear them over the sound of the movie and his eyes look down to the side at you. Your expression is peaceful, and the rise then fall of your body is slow and steady. Dante smiles again and thinks again about how lucky he is to be where he is right now. He was hoping for a blowjob, but this is okay too... That could always happen later.

When the two of you sleep, it is a battle for the bed. Despite being a king size, the two of you take up a considerable amount of space for the rather large mattress. Dante is a stomach sleeper and sleeps with his legs spread out wide. A part of his body always needs to be touching you, so that he knows that you’re always there beside him. He’s afraid of something happening to you while he’s asleep or when he wakes up in the morning, you’ll be gone. So, either his foot is touching your leg or his palm is on your breast. 

You often sleep on your back with legs and arms spread out. The back of your hand or palm usually rests on the back of Dante’s head (or his face). Your leg that isn’t touching Dante’s often dangles off the side and falls asleep, which then wakes you up with the annoying tingling feeling that doesn’t go away until you shake it. The devil hunter likes sleeping with the tv on and enjoys the feeling of waking up in the dark to see an infomercial about cleaning products playing. While you like sleeping in the dark, the hue of the neon signs outside give you a relaxed feeling that you cannot explain. 

Despite your differences in your sleeping conditions -- the two of you wait for the other to wake up in the mornings. Usually you’re the first to fall asleep and the first to wake up, but sometimes Dante beats you in the mornings. He doesn’t have difficulty falling asleep but does staying asleep, during the night his dreams often wake him and he has trouble shaking them off. So, if he wakes up early, he will wait for you. You wait for him as well. Whoever is first -- either of you will face the other and enjoy the peacefulness of quiet morning and the way that the sun shines into the room. Dante feels excited every time you wake up and your blinks are slow but the way that the sun shines off of your e/c irises fill him with a warmth that he doesn’t fully wrap his head around. 

Dante doesn’t wake up as peaceful as you do. It’s often with eyelids opening quickly and glazed over eyes from either not enough or too much sleep. His morning breath is atrocious but comforting at the same time. It is a stench that you’ve grown to love - some may think it’s odd but love is an odd thing.

As he stretches, he rolls onto his side and pulls you close to him again as you managed to wiggle free during the night. His hand is on the small of your back as you prop yourself up on your elbows with your hands under your chin. Dante grins,

“Good morning, snore-ass,” he says with a yawn, “Good morning, shit breath,” you reply with a smile.

VERGIL-

It is late at night and you’re already in bed but are not accompanied by Vergil. You stir under the sheet that laid across your body, your legs search for the strong calves of your mate. But the bed is absent of the half demon man. You push yourself up from the bed and squint as you scan the dark room. The walls are a light shade of grey and two windows sit directly in front of you, the moonlight peaks from between two curtains and highlights an empty chair where Vergil normally sat with his book.

“He must be downstairs,” you speak as you drape a robe over your nude frame. The hallway is empty and dark when you exit your shared bedroom. Down the hall is the room of his brother, Dante, and sounds of his television blare from behind his closed door. He wouldn’t be in there, it’s too late in the night.  You peer over the side of the balcony to the floor below and see Vergil sitting at his brother’s desk with book in hand.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up without the elder Sparda brother accompanying you. Things kept him awake at night and he was usually reluctant to reveal what they were, despite being in a relationship together for several years. He informed you about his mother, Eva, and that fateful day that separated his fate from the one of Dante’s - but that was about it.

Vergil hears your creaking as you walk down the steps and acknowledges your presence, “You should be sleeping,” he says with his book raised to eye level. “Waking up alone gets old, Vergil.” you slowly approach him and notice that he’s shirtless still from your love making that occurred earlier in the night. The moonlight shines in from a window and accents his muscular body in all the correct ways.

 He is silent for a moment before he apologizes. You accept it and lightly wrap your arms around his neck from behind and your fingertips lightly run across his strong pectorals. “Did you have another dream?” you whisper next to his ear. He had been having issues with dreaming about his corruption and the loss of his mother, which leads up to losing you. Your hand raises to his ear and tickles his skin, but Vergil takes your digits in his palm and squeezes. “Let’s return to our bedroom,” he pushes back from the desk and stands.

The Sparda man feels guilty for leaving you again, especially after having sex because your cuddling was cut short when he got up and left. Vergil suddenly scoops you up from your feet, his strong arms pull your close to his body and he walks up the stairs. You look up to his face with a warmth lingering in your cheeks, you can see his handsome features even in the dark. His eyes are focused on what was in front of him and when he reached the landing, they fell onto you. He smiles slightly as he pushes the bedroom door open with his foot.

The room isn’t large but is perfect for the two of you to live comfortably in. On the wall to the right was a large dresser that held both of your clothing. Decorating the top of it was a photo of the two of you, Dante and Vergil, then a painting of you two hung on the wall about the furniture. In a vase was a wilted rose that Vergil had given to you on your first official date, it was frail and broken but most petal remained, it was sentimental nonetheless. The largest piece of furniture was an ornate bookshelf that held a collection of works that Vergil admired. You actually found it in an antique store and used the remaining money you had for the month to purchase it for him. When he received your gift, you could’ve sworn you saw tears well in his eyes but he quickly embraced you tightly and thanked you with a passionate kiss. There was no television in your room but there was a small radio that you listened to often when you would clean up while Vergil read his poems in the chair by the window. He enjoyed listening to you sing and hum to the music while he read, his eyes would occasionally raise from the literature to watch you.

You think that he is going to lay you on the bed but he takes you into the bathroom that is connected to the bedroom instead. Your normal bedtime routine involved you sitting on the toilet brushing your teeth while Vergil stood in front of the sink doing the same. He was very vigilant about his oral health, so he took twice as long as you to brush. You always gotta bump him out of the way with your hip, so that you could spit out the foam that was filling your cheeks to the brim. Vergil always set out two things of floss and two bottles of mouth wash. “His and hers!” you called it. Skincare masks were your favorite weekly routine because it meant that you could paint his face with black mud. He would scoff but let you have your fun, however, he was unhappy when you captured a photographic memory of it.

Vergil seats you down on the closed toilet lid and turns to dig in the lower cabinet. “What’re you doing?” you ask but he doesn’t answer. When he turns around, there is a bottle of body lotion in his hand. He pumps several globs of white cream into his palm before resting on his knees, he waddles toward you and takes the lower half of your leg in his empty hand. His rough palm with the lotion begins to spread the lotion on your soft skin. The other hand joins as they travel up and down your appendage, he begins giving you a massage. Vergil raises your calf to his face and presses his lips against it, giving you several loving kisses. He then presses his nose to your muscle and breathes you in. Kissing, feeling, and smelling your body creates an overwhelming sensation of love and gratitude to fill his body, he wants to show you how much he appreciates everything you have done for him.

You hum in pleasure as he massages but when he stops and kisses your leg, you lean over to run your fingers through his white hair. His blue orbs flicker up and meet yours, the silence remains as no words are needed to explain the intimacy between you both.

After he is done, he picks you up again and takes you to the bed.

When it is time to sleep, Your bed is a queen size which is just enough room for two people, which worked out well because Vergil holds you tight to his side. He is a side sleeper and mostly rests on his right half. You lay nestled into the bend of his body with your back side facing his front. Vergil’s left arm holds onto your waist and his ankles are linked onto yours. Vergil enjoys resting this way because when he feels horny, you can feel his member in his pants and he has easy access to your heat. Resting over your bodies was a light silver sheet which sometimes had a white quilt accompanying it, but Vergil enjoyed feeling cool at night. (being snuggled up to a half demon turned out to be warmer than you thought) and you were one to enjoy being snuggled up in a fluffy blanket. The two of you compromise and often rotate the coverings for your shared bed.

Being held tight to Vergil’s body is comforting which upsets you when he leaves you during the night. Once he left and did not return for several days which meant you laid alone at night wondering where he had gone off to. But he did return, then held you tight again to his body. He whispered promises that no matter what -- he would be there to hold you. 

Just as Vergil wakes up during the night, he is the first to wake in the morning as well. It is his favorite time because he can watch you sleep in your most innocent nature. Normally your back faces him but in the morning he releases your body and you almost immediately roll onto your back. Vergil can see your eyes flicker side to side under your closed lids and ponders about what you dream about.

The whole building is quiet because it is way too early for Dante to be awake. So, Vergil takes advantage of it to also reflect on things while he watches you sleep. These things involve his goals which both include personal ones and those that involve you. He reflects on his past, present, and even future. Vergil thinks about what could become of your relationship and it fills him with joy and anxiety.

He never wakes you but simply remains patient for you to wake on your own (unless there are morning plans) When you do, he releases his crossed brows and a small smile forms on his lips. His hand raises and holds yours, “Good morning, darling,” he says, “Good morning, sweetheart,” you reply. Your stomach growls in between of your sweet words which prompt an unison chuckle, “Let me bring you breakfast,” he offers and pushes himself up.

[anythingforakutagawa]

Till forever

Chuuya (♡) x Fem reader ☁Fluff☁

Many knew Chuuya Nakahara

No, many feared Chuuya Nakahara, gravity manipulator. The man capable of wiping out a whole organization over night by himself. Rumor where his blood was Port Mafia black, never once has showed mercy to an enemy.

It really humored you it was the same man sitting next to you, watching the sun set while you rested your head on his chest. You peeked up to steal a glace. But how was it you were supposed to just glace when you where absolutely mesmerized.

Chuuya was always beautiful in your eyes. Silky soft ginger lock that slips so ever easily through you fingers. Eyes and deep and blue like the ocean that never failed to make your heart skip a few beat when they look at you with so much love.

But the sunset toped it off, strawberry golden lighting really took the crown. You snuggled closer to him, engulfed in his warm brace while smiling to yourself. How did you get so lucky?

You felt familiar hands make its way up to you face. You subconsciously lean into the touch you learned to adore

“Chuuya..” you said through light giggles

He hummed in response while tilting you chin up, laying his lips on your softer. The faint taste of alcohol and strawberries with a hint of cigarettes . It brings you back to early memories, when you and Chuuya first met. He was just a random guy who went to the same bar as you sometimes and happen to ask you to light his cigarette . With the simple spark of a lighter lead to a conversation, From talk to met ups at the same bar until Chuuya got the courage to officially ask you to be his. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t charmed at first sight and slightly upset it took him a while for him to ask you.

But non of that mattered now, you where in the only man you’ve come to loved arms. Nothing else mattered but the two of you and that exact moment.

You felt him smile through the kiss. This kiss wasn’t passionate or lustful in any way. It was pure and gentle, like a reminder for each other. A reminder how much you adored each other and would go to any lengths for each other happiness. It was these simple, but blissful moments that made your heart flutter.

“Hey y/n.” Chuuya spoke softly into your ear while he laid flat on his back, still holding on to you, not letting your escape is ever lasting affection.

“What’s up?” You asking while propping yourself up on you elbows and forearms against his chest.

“Just now you remembered, didn’t you.”

You smiled and took his hate and placed it on yourself. “You know i did beloved.”

It wasn’t rare for your thoughts to be in sync. Made you truly believe you were twin flames, made for each other. You snapped out your thoughts Chuuya stealing his hat back.

“Come on, it’s about time we head back. Sunsets over you know.”

You rolled off him and lay on the ground until her offers a hand to help you up. You smiled to yourself while pulling his arm harshly and making him stumble to the ground along with you.

“What the hell Y/n!?”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at his reaction. He started at you before bursting into laughter as well. And there you two where, laughing childishly while living a teenage love dream not giving a care in the world. For that moment, there was no Port Mafia, or damn Dazai, or what tomorrow can hold.

Just you and Chuuya.

Once you caught your breathe you got settled on the back of Chuuya’s bike, one of the many perks of loving him.

“You know the rules” Chuuya says in his casual overprotective tone. You weren’t aware but, you were the single source of happiness for him.

All his life he’s been seen and used as a pawn, a weapon, a object. So when you came alone and shined a light cleanses all the sorrow he’s held in his heart for so long. Your touch, your word, your actions, were all so soft and warm and caring, the closet thing he can describe it was the color pale yellow.

It was a odd way to describe it but, you were bright, but soft, cheerful, but calm all at once. When he loves you it has the same affect. You had no idea how much healing you done for him, yes he ment you unexpectedly, but now he plans his everyday next to you.

You were his top priority, even above the Mafia it’s self. You’d always be the light in his life.

That’s why he wasn’t going to let you get on with out a helmet.

hesitantly and almost upset even you took it. He grinned to him self

“There’s my girl”

You laugh while wrapping your arms around his waist, for safety purposes of course.

“Shut up and drive.”

That little push was all it took to feed is ego and drive at full speed. You scream while hiding your face in his back

“Chuuya! Slow down are you trying to kill us!?” but you felt alive, so you cant complain. God how long has it been since I was this happy?

He laughed

“Not so bold are we now? Anyway don’t be so scared, I’d never put you into danger, take a look around”

You life your head up and peek. It was magical. Yokohama was a city of wonder at night. Always lit with the prettiest colors. Bu nothing can compare to what your seeing, they were all a blur, as if the northern lights have fallen to earth and caged you and Chuuya in your own little world.

“Chuuya!” You screamed in pure bliss

“Yeah?” he shouted back

“Lets do this forever”

“Forever!?” Chuuya asked confused

You laughing while tears of joy streamed “Lets be like this forever”

“Damn right, till forever”

[clubsmarties]

Wally's smirk deepened the more she talked. "Talk about boosting a man's ego," he laughed. "I did enjoy taking you by surprise. You're hard to surprise I had to step up my game." There was nothing so thrilling as to make it difficult for her to stay quiet. If he could, he'd do everything in his power to make her scream. Though he was hyperaware of their kids in the adjacent room.

"I know that ultimately the choice is yours and believe me, whatever you land on, I'll be fine with. You've already given me more than I could possibly ask for. But," he paused as he thought about adding to their brood. Not that it was easy on them either but he had thought about adding one more. "Not gonna lie. I've thought about adding one more." What were the odds really of making multiples. Lu had been the first to have three in one go, then Mel had the one but really the chances of twins having multiples wasn't that high again. "I'm not kidding myself either, I know based on our track record this could take ages or not become a reality. But, we've had luck so far with our three. I just want to make sure that you're in a good place to even want to try again." His hands caressed her face, fingers playing with the strands of her hair. His first priority was her as it always had been. If it was going to affect her mental health then it was not ever gonna be worth it to submit her through the nos once again.

He half laughed half groaned as she got up and only had the lingering echo of her kiss. Quickly sending a text to their neighbors he told them they were having an extra three mouths to feed and chuckled when the next text had an eager send them over. If he had known it'd be this easy he'd have done so much earlier. "Lu and Janny are game. They'll come in two minutes to pick them up." Wally easily followed her to the door and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "You're highly unfair, Mrs. Bordeaux," his voice had lowered in a soft whisper where his French slipped out with the last name. "But I think I can be patient. Let me help you with the kids," nuzzling her nose he grinned still having his hands around her waist. Was he really that patient when his wife was looking like that and staring at him like that. No. "Can I get a hint?"

"Oh, no. No shame here either." She giggled, she was never ashamed of anything that had to do with her husband. Slightly embarrassed when it was brought up, maybe, but never ashamed. "Just reminiscing about a moment in time that you caught me by surprise is all." Her giggle was quickly replaced by small moans as he continued to bite and kiss her. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to stay quiet, as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip to keep from stirring the kids awake.

"Not a problem," she managed to choke out in a breathy sigh. "Love trying." As she kissed one of his dimples, the words then seemed to register in her mind. " Are you saying you want to try again?" If there was one thing that could be said for their life now, it was that for as much as she had teased him plenty of times for not being able to say no to others, it also didn't seem to be in her vocabulary either whenever he needed or wanted something. The thought of their family growing again did make her smile. Maybe they could have one more boy to round out the kids evenly. From history it would take a couple of tries but like he said, trying was half the fun.

"Hmm," she moaned into the kiss as she felt his fingers thread through her hair and then trace a trail down the side of her face. "Screw it." Was declared suddenly as she pulled back. "You're right. You call and see who's available. I'll go get the kids ready." Before she got up, she leaned down and kissed him again, nibbling softly on his lower lip before pulling back. "Oh, that reminds me," a devious grin coming to her face as she pulled off of him. "I had something I was saving for our anniversary but today feels as good as any to show it to you," Standing up she began to make her way to the door. "But once the kids are gone."

[light-yaers]

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter Three

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: I keep saying to expect a slow down soon and I MEAN IT. I can’t sustain this any longer and to be honest, be ready for fic writing to come to a halt for a few weeks time in the next months-- I have a university dissertation to be writing, but instead I’m doing this! PRIORITIES. Thank you all for reading, fr.

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 3.6k

Chapter Three

“I thought he was a respectable General,” Inej whispered, finishing the last of her whiskey with a small frown.

“He plays the role well,” You replied sadly, before looking at Brekker. He was deep in thought, a scowl constantly present on his thin lips. “I’m only one person who knows the truth,”

“Then why tell us?” Kaz spoke suddenly. “Why share this with people you’ve just met?”

You took a moment to ponder your reply. Why were you telling the lackies at the Crow Club? The Dregs of the Barrel? Kaz Brekker and his band of un-merry men and women? Growing up in Kerch meant you already knew their names, despite not living in the country for most of your adult life. News travelled fast, especially when it concerned Ketterdam.

Maybe it was intentional that Inej found you that night, wandering the lush establishments at Fifth Harbour and riling up bouncers because of your appearance and obvious lack of kruge—or maybe it’d been fate.

“Why do you believe it?” You asked in return. “Why do you believe the word of a woman you’ve just met?” Kaz’s jaw clenched in response. He looked down at his desk, probably beating himself up over his prior question, even though it was a good one.

“Your Kefta,” Inej spoke up softly. “From afar, it looks like common dress, but up close, behind the mud and dirt, you can see the intricate embroidery,” She raised her tiny hands to your Kefta, placing her fingers on the stitched details—the winding winds of a Squaller, white threads against a deep black.

“You said you weren’t Second Army,” Kaz spoke up once more. “Yet you were in the Little Palace, being trained by the Darkling himself,”

“I never went on an army mission in the many months I was at the Little Palace,” You replied. “I was grateful at first, until I realised it was simply another way for me to eventually trust Kirigan, to worry about him,” Inej frowned at you then, showing you large and caring eyes. Kaz, however—he looked pained.

“But, what about—,”

“Do you wish for me to continue, Mr. Brekker?” You interrupted him, hearing the want and confusion in his voice. He swallowed down his words, forcing his gaze onto your eyes. He nodded once. You smiled slightly, readying yourself. “My sister’s funeral was held two days later...”

The Little Palace, 1 Year Later

The flames licked at her skin at first, until she was a light—bright, a star, burning so ferociously in a way that mimicked her personality when she was alive. Your sister, your last remaining family, the last love of your life.

She was burning. And there was nothing you could do but watch.

The funeral was a silent and small affair, but you hadn’t expected it to be anything more. If you were still out in the cold, harshness of Fjerda, it would have been even smaller than the reception she had at the Little Palace—

You stood on your own, closer to her burning flames. Behind you stood two Inferni; twins, a brother and sister. They looked at your sister solemnly, despite not knowing you or her. Maybe they felt your pain. Maybe they didn’t want to ever feel your pain. Beyond them stood the Heartrender, Ivan, the one who’d put you into a death state two days prior. And finally, behind him—

General Kirigan of the Second Army.

He donned his Kefta today; a menacing black and grey that only emphasised the broadness of his shoulders. His hands were clasped in front of him, his expression blunt and eyes reflecting the raging flames of your sister’s pyre. As much as you didn’t trust him, refused to trust him, he’d put all of this together.

He’d brought her back from those frozen wastelands. He’d arranged for her body to be cleaned and donned with lavish silks. He’d gathered the Inferni to light her pyre, after you’d denied wanting to light it yourself with a torch.

You stayed perfectly still as you watched her burn, too afraid that moving would only cause you to fully break down. You didn’t want that; you didn’t want another reason for those here to look at you oddly. Kirigan strolled forward then, slowly, gently, as you stayed facing the pyre.

“Let us leave you, now,” He whispered into your ear, so close it made you shiver. You nodded once, but not at him; at your sister. Slowly, one by one, the Grisha left you and your sister, until you were completely alone.

You don’t know how long you stayed out in that acre for, watching the acrid smoke rise into the air and the flames begin to die down, searching for her face within piles of ashes.

It was hours, most likely. The sun had been high in the sky when the pyre was lit, but now it was descending down, down, down the horizon, casting a pink glow over the lavishness of the Little Palace grounds.

And then, the fire went out.

The flames dissipated into nothing more than black smoke.

Then, it seemed almost pointless to stay standing there, frozen like a statue and looking at the last remaining substances of who your sister was. You glanced up at the sky for the first time in hours, indulging in the glorious sunset on the last eve of your sister’s presence on this Earth.

You kissed two of your fingers, placing them above the once flaming pyre. It was still incredibly hot, her ashes retaining the heat of the fire. And then, you left. You didn’t cry, you didn’t collapse, you simply walked back to the Little Palace, entered through the main doors, and then stopped—

And when you stopped, you almost couldn’t take it. You almost couldn’t stand the quiet, the air, the feeling of eyes watching you wherever you went, so close to falling to the ground where you stood and just giving up—

General Kirigan’s door clicked open as you stared at the floor. He rounded the corner of the frame, landing his eyes upon your slumped shoulders and laboured breaths. He took a few timid steps forward, but you hadn’t even noticed him yet, not until he cleared his throat.

You flinched immediately, hitting his eyes as a spike of anxiety was rammed through your heart. He’d scared you, and it seemed he knew he had. He frowned at your reaction, stepping forward once more. “It was a beautiful ceremony,”

You didn’t know what to say to him, nor did you have the energy or will to want to speak to the Darkling that stood before you. But there was a part of you that was grateful for his words—for his company amongst the winding corridors and scowling faces of the Grisha here at the Little Palace.

The only thing you were holding onto was Kirigan’s earlier promise.

“Tea?” He spoke again, this time prompting you to scoff involuntarily. You looked at him with an odd expression, one that was trying to work out his motives. From the small glimpses you’d got of Kirigan around other Grisha, you knew it wasn’t customary for the General to share tea with them.

“I could go for something stronger,” You said breathily, though you weren’t being entirely serious. Kirigan didn’t seem to get your joke, however, as he gestured to his chambers.

“Will Ravkan rum suffice?”

You’d lost count at the fifth, or maybe it was the sixth, but it was easy to just keep topping up your glass when Kirigan placed the bottle on the table between you. Sometimes it was him refilling the glasses and sometimes it was you, but neither of you particularly cared.

You were on the brink of being too drunk to stand, too drunk to know what you were saying, but perhaps—too drunk to care. It was the perfect relaxation tactic after the funeral. You’d almost needed this, even if General Kirigan wasn’t the person you’d imagined being sat opposite you.

“Where do you go all day?” You asked, your words not yet slurring, but getting close. “A few Grisha have said it’s unusual for you to attend training,” He smiled at your question, tapping his rum glass.

You’d had one day of training so far, put on hold for the funeral today. Kirigan had attended, but it’d been obvious that other Grisha were on edge by his presence. All except one—a Sqauller like yourself, by the name of Zoya.

“I don’t just oversee training. I’m in charge of many aspects of the army. Tactics, movements, squadrons,” He sipped his drink. “But you already know my reasoning for wanting to shadow your training,”

You nodded once, humming to yourself without realising. You looked at your hands then, twisting them out in front of you and pinpointing the various lines and indents, the length of your fingers, the curve of your nails.

“You didn’t wear your Kefta today,” Kirigan said, almost in a whisper. You flicked your gaze to his eyes. You’d woken that morning to a knock upon your door—a guard had handed you the intricately designed blue Kefta and then left, leaving you almost speechless.

You’d decided against wearing it, however, sticking to your usual clothes of a blouse and woven trousers, kept up with braces.

“I don’t feel like a Squaller yet,” You replied. “Not a proper one,” It was sad, the way that Kirigan looked at you. It almost made you move your gaze away from his deep eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself do it after alcohol was swimming in your system.

“It’s the blue, isn’t it?” He said, and the smile on his lips was an indication of his joke. You reciprocated his expression, feeling a small bubble of giggles in your gut.

“The blue is lovely,” You replied sarcastically, causing a laugh to burst from the General’s lips. You didn’t realise this man could laugh, could chuckle, could—well—feel.

A comfortable silence fluttered over Kirigan’s chambers. This was the second time you’d been in his room. His décor was so much different than the cream and gold walls of the Little Palace itself; with all dark wood furniture and stained walls. In the centre of his office sat a large circular table, topped with a map of the countries. In the middle—the Fold was indicated with an intricate wooden structure, painted a matte black.

You fluttered your eyes around the room, taking everything in. You inhaled, smelling the wooden scent of the furniture and the musty leather of the chair you sat in, mixed with something sweet that resembled an aftershave. You stared at the paintings and skimmed over his trinkets. Everything seemed to suit him perfectly.

When you turned back, the General was already looking at you.

“I’ll commission you a different Kefta design,” He said it so smoothly that you were reminded of the annoyance it had given you before, but with rum running through your veins all you felt was relaxed. “One that’s more suited to you,”

“You don’t have to do that,” You replied, feeling small under his colossal gaze. He smiled at your reddening cheeks.

“A glorious Kefta for a glorious storm summoner,”

Saints, the way he looked at you was almost too much. His eyes skimmed your skin, traversing your jaw, your nose, your lips, before falling back to your wide eyes. He was regarding you openly and you weren’t looking away—you were taking it full on, perhaps spurring him on to continue.

This was just the rum, it had to be. This wasn’t the General Kirigan you’d ever imagined.

Saints, stop.

“I should go,” You said then, rising yourself from the leather armchair. Kirigan copied you, exhaling at the same time he dragged his eyes off of you.

Your goodbye was as unceremonious as the walk back to your chambers. You staggered a few times, needing to clutch onto the spiral staircase for dear life, but by the time you were back at your room, you were ready to fall asleep immediately.

You lay in bed, your eyelids prepped for immediate rest, but your mind wouldn’t be quiet. In fact, it was yelling at you—screaming, crying, pelting you with warnings—

Stay away from General Kirigan. Do not indulge him.

All you could was laugh at your cautious mind, telling it that it was overreacting, before you were drifting off into much needed sleep.

You still didn’t don the Kefta the next day, sliding down to the training courtyard silently, as if hoping that no one would notice you being there. It was useless to want that, however, considering you were a face that Grisha here didn’t recognise, dressed in clothes instead of your respective Kefta.

You stood to the side while everyone gathered, chatting away before the instructor came forward. “Hand to hand combat is just as important as your abilities,” He said bluntly, flicking his eyes around the colourful group. “We’ll focus on that today. On strengthening your hits, your blocks, your stances,”

You almost smiled to yourself—you knew hand to hand combat. Very well, if you said so yourself. Growing up in Novyi Zem, defenceless and out in the open, you’d adapted quickly to being stealthy, as well as having a mean hit. Hand to hand was something you knew better than your own Grisha abilities.

“Get in pairs,” He continued, and that’s when your face dropped. You glanced around helplessly when everyone started pairing off, giggling and chatting and knowing each other after so long. You felt like a sore thumb; someone who wasn’t wanted.

Suddenly, she bombarded before you—Zoya Nazyalensky. She’d made herself known on your first day, most notably with her dirty looks and the scowl on her jaw, but now? She was beaming, smiling so wide and happily that you almost didn’t recognise her. She gripped your bicep excitedly. “Let’s pair up together, two Squaller’s against the World,”

You had a feeling Zoya wasn’t usually this chipper, but you had no choice but to accept her as your partner.

“Zoya,” The instructor prompted. “You and your partner, front and centre,”

Oh. So, that’s what she wanted.

There was no way to back out now, as Zoya dragged you to the centre of the courtyard. She removed herself to stand opposite you, and that’s when her face changed—back to the dirty looks she’d given you before, the obvious dislike and want to crush you just for funzies. You got the feeling that Zoya felt she was the only Squaller worthy for the Little Palace.

You simply had to prove yourself, then, in front of the other Grisha.

“Fight to defend yourselves, not to attack,” The instructor said, his eyes mostly on Zoya. She dipped into a stance and you followed suit.

Saints, please make this fight the least amount of humiliating that it needs to be.

Within seconds, she was moving. Her first swung through the air swiftly, but you jutted your elbow up to stop her forearm, whacking back with all of your force. Zoya gasped from the interruption, but it allowed you to jab your knuckles into her ribs.

You punched forward, hitting her right in her ribs and causing her to stagger back slightly from the hit. Her brows only furrowed more as you continued your back and forth, a hit—a block—a stance—a hit—a block—it was endless and incredibly draining, but the more you fought, the more Zoya became frustrated.

She’d been wanting a quick fight; something to show that she was superior. Little had she known that you were a fighter, more so with your fists than the winds.

You stepped back to the edge of the circle, breathing deeply, arms out in front of you ready to block her hits. Your hair was in your eyeline, the braces of your trousers slipping from your shoulders, but you wouldn’t stop for a second to pull them back up.

Zoya’s cheeks were blotched with colour, her mouth ajar as she inhaled and exhaled deep, long breaths, trying to get oxygen back into her system. You could see the anger creeping onto her face with every second that passed. You were reluctant to storm forward to hit her, knowing that that would give her the blocking advantage, so you stayed put, counting down the seconds until you’d be free of this pointless and embarrassing fight.

At that second, the doors to the Little Palace were pulled open. Zoya and yourself took a few seconds to peer towards the creaking doors, as General Kirigan strolled towards the training session strongly, with a purpose, no hint of a hangover on his stubborn jaw.

Zoya’s face upturned into a smile at his arrival, but you were a few seconds too late at returning to the fight. Zoya’s hands were brought together immediately, summoning her power as you were helplessly bombarded backwards by winds—

You landed on your back with a thud, hearing the subtle laughs and chuckles of the observing Grisha. You didn’t care though; if you cared about every small battle, every time you fell, then you would have died of humiliation by now. You simply got yourself up again, glancing upon the questioning face of Kirigan as he stared at Zoya—

Then you brought your hands together—

And you summoned the storms that you were used to summoning. Maybe it was overkill, as the entire courtyard was encased in circling winds, or maybe it was needed, just to get Grisha like Zoya off of your fucking back. You spurred the winds on, tightening the funnel and tensing your muscles to keep it contained, even if it was large.

Zoya’s hair whipped around her as she watched your storm appear from nothing. Her eyes landed upon your own, sending you a clear and precise message—fear. She’d never seen a storm such a this, not even by her own hand.

“How?” She yelled, frustration laced within her words. But, you weren’t done with her yet.

You attempted a move you’d never done before, summoning the winds to your hands instead of the surrounding courtyard—you struggled against their power, but when you felt confident in your aim and execution, you let them loose.

Winds rushed forward, hitting Zoya directly in her gut and slamming her backwards; just as she’d done to you. She hit the floor harshly, laying there for a few moments as she fought against her winded lungs.

You allowed your storm to dissipate then, flicking your eyes over the shocked faces of the other Grisha, before allowing yourself to land upon the face of General Kirigan—

He was already staring at you, the way he’d done the night before. His lips were curled into a small smile, his eyes peering into yours and only yours, as if he didn’t care about the ruckus that you’d just created during the training session. He looked just as speechless as your fellow Grisha, but with a higher level of understanding and appreciation—

He looked like he’d never tire from seeing you summon these storms.

Zoya curled herself up from the floor painfully, grunting through the discomfort as she forced herself to standing once more. She went to storm forward, her face twisted with red rage, but the instructor came between her and yourself.

“Enough,” He said, eyes skimming over the prying gaze of the General.

“Do that again and I’ll send you above the cloud-line without a parachute,” Zoya threatened openly, but you couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t think Squaller threats work on other Squallers,” You replied, gaining a few scoffs and huffs from the Grisha who surrounded you. You weren’t expecting one of them to be Kirigan, however, as his gently bobbing chest hit your peripheral. He was silently chuckling, moving his gaze between yourself and Zoya like a tennis match.

Zoya was wounded, that much was obvious. You would have felt bad if she hadn’t effectively asked for it. She’d been looking for a fight, and that’s exactly what she’d got—it wasn’t your fault that you fought better than she thought you would.

Kirigan regarded you then, getting your attention by raising his hand out before him. He motioned you over with two curling fingers. You shot a look at Zoya and the instructor once, before obeying the General’s orders. He tilted his head down as you approached him, keeping his expression light and soft.

“I see you’ve met Zoya,” He said, amusement certainly on his lips. You stared at him bluntly.

“We’re the best of friends. Can’t you tell?” You replied, but you kept your voice quieter. You were all too aware of the prying eyes of the Grisha in the courtyard, muttering to each other as to why the General had made another appearance at training.

He smiled wider, glancing back at the Squaller and then back to you, letting out a small huff of laughter. You were once again astounded that this man could laugh; every time he chuckled or the bob of his shoulders was shown, you found yourself paying too much attention to the boyish way he sounded, the soft curve of his jaw as he was smiling, the carefree way his hands flinched as he chuckled.

“Can you ride?” He asked then, changing the subject. You nodded at him once. “Good. We ride tomorrow, together. I want to show you something,”  

He strolled off then, without giving you a chance to reply. You watched as his arms draped by his sides and his broad shoulders were even broader as they arched across his back. You swallowed to cut off your thoughts, choosing to focus too closely on the sound of your heartbeat beneath your ribs and the subtle ache of your limbs after fighting Zoya, instead.

You watched until the General was back inside the Little Palace, the black glint of his uniform still etched in your peripheral— even when he wasn’t around.

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