#focus on that rather than her next statement -she's there as herself not as a hero

[angy-grrr]

I try to not be hater, but then I see the stupid takes and get madddddd

This is just what I feel every single time I see those shitty opinions

[intothegenshinworld]

Fate’s Destiny ~ Chapter 8.7 || The Acting Grand Master

You somehow, not being able to explain it, had fallen into the Genshin world you know oh-so-well. You were no new player and had explored most of the nooks and crannies of the world. When you first had woken up in Windrise you wondered; it might be a dream, after all, you were behind your screen usually, and now- here? It made no sense, and the world was keen on keeping it that way.

Warnings: Spoilers for main story.

Word count: 3.4k+

Summary chapter 8.7: Acting Grand Master Jean has a lot of responsibilities. What can she do to ensure the safety of Mondstadt?

Auteurs note: This is the last bonus chapter before CH9, I promise. This is also the last update before Christmas!! Hope you enjoy

Thanks to: all the people who showed love on the last chapter, even if it took me over a year to update the series <3 your support means the world to me

↺ PREVIOUS CHAPTER || ↻ NEXT CHAPTER || MASTERLIST

Some time ago, in Mondstadt:

It had become an oddly frequent occurrence for the Anemo Archon to stand in Jean’s office. What's worse, she didn't know if she was the only person in the room to think so. 

While she abruptly stood up from her chair, Diluc and Lisa barely acknowledged the bard. Both looked up for a moment, only to focus their attention back on whatever they were doing prior. 

"Ah! Well if it isn't the beloved Knights of Favonious. You know, I would've come sooner if I could!" Venti trips as he stumbles through the door. "Ah, I'll never get used to that. Excuse me—" his tone shifts an octave higher before lowering again into an eager voice. "Where are they?"

"Who...?"

"Oh, Grand Master Jean. Of course I mean the Creator, who else would've been able to steal the winds from the Anemo Archon?"

His statement seems to catch the attention of both Lisa and Diluc, although the former was much more slick about it. With all eyes on him, Venti falls silent, looking around in a daze. It is only after he stands still that Jean notices the bottle of wine in his left hand, and the two wine glasses in his right. 

"Uhm. Hello?" Venti lets out a bubbly laugh that seems unfit for the situation. "I get it, the Creator must've spooked you more then they did me, but uhm." He holds up the items in his hands. "We got loooots of stuff to catch up on, and I'd rather start sooner than later if I want to wrap up the events pertaining to the last five centuries." 

"The Creator…?" Jean hesitantly looks at Diluc and Lisa. She's not sure if she's seeking confirmation more than forgiveness.

Please, for the love of the Archons, please let the imposter not turn out to be the True One. 

Venti raises an eyebrow, scanning the room from Jean to Diluc, to Lisa, and back to Diluc, until finally settling on Jean. “Uh, yeah? Did you not welcome them? I can practically feel their energy overflowing this space." 

He gestures with the wine bottle around the room, and Jean is certain she'll have a heart attack any minute now. 

"The... Creator." 

She plops down into the chair, a gesture of defeat, silently resigning herself to the idea that the real deal had been right in front of her this whole time, and heavily regretting how she considered locking them up. As the Acting Grand Master this is bound to cause the reputation of Mondstadt to fall, not to mention her own betrayal towards the  Creator of everything.

Venti purses his lips as he watches Jean. he shifts his weight from leg to leg, "Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good."

Diluc (praise his soul) helps to divert the attention from Jean when he speaks up, "You mean, Kaeya was right?" He sounds annoyed and bewildered, "That can't be. Surely the real-"

Diluc stops when his eyes land on the somewhat silly looking Archon. He remembers that he never suspected the Anemo Archon to be drinking in his own tavern prior to the Dvalin fallout. So perhaps if an Archon can mingle with their people unnoticed, the Creator could–in theory, too.

Diluc gestures somewhat difficulty into the air. "Well." 

"Well? " Venti mimics him.

"It's a difficult situation," the redhead grunts out, flustered by the fast paced conversation and information thrown at his head. Diluc crosses his arms as a scowl settles on his face.

Venti huffs. "More difficult than dealing with the abyss order and Dvalin when he was corrupted?" he turns around in his place, "surely it can't be that bad. I've only been away for half a week—and I would've been faster if our beloved Creator gave me a notice." He lets out a cheeky laugh accompanied by a wink and plops down into the chair across from Jean. He then carelessly drops the two glasses and wine bottle onto the surface of the desk separating them both. Jean now realizes that the extra glass was meant for the Creator.

The Creator of Teyvat, the one she had thought to be an imposter and nearly banished from Mondstadt.

She pulls her fingers through her hair and faintly prays, "Dear Barbatos–" 

"Oh? You're ready to talk now?" Venti responds as he makes himself more comfortable in the chair. While everyone else seemed tense, he appeared unbothered by the whole ordeal. Probably, because he still believed the Creator to be around. Would he understand Jean’s misunderstanding if she told him what had occurred?

Lisa’s voice chimes over her doom-filled thoughts. "Give her a moment. It's safe to say we're all catching up to the fact that the ‘imposter’ turned out to be the True One."

Venti furrows his eyebrows. "Huh." New information seems to solve a riddle in his mind. When he speaks next, it's more to himself then anyone else, "I suppose that'd make sense why I'm not able to pinpoint their aura." He then speaks to Jean, “So what did you do?”

It wasn’t a question filled with judgement towards her. The tone of his voice was bubbly, as always, and filled with genuine curiosity—though, Jean could feel the concern rise in his words. 

“I am not certain what happened before they reached Mondstadt,” she starts to pile the events in her mind and decides to soften the blow, “–but, ‘the Creator’ seemingly appeared out of no where at the gates. No one, aside from Kaeya and Albedo, were able to sense their aura. If the two tell the truth, Kaeya sent the Creator to Dragonspine when chaos began to rise within the headquarters, and only a day later, the Creator disappeared without a trace once more.”

Diluc adds to her story, “When I spoke with Eula and Kaeya, they believed they had seen a second Albedo before the Creator disappeared.” He hesitates for a moment, “Could this be related? Or could everything be explained with malfunctioning ley lines?”

Jean watches as Venti taps his fingers against the armrest. He slings his legs up and down and nods to himself. “This is certainly a first for me as well. Sure, the Creator has some magnificent powers, but I still can’t explain why they’d appear so suddenly, not to mention the strange events surrounding their descent.”

He opens his eyes and stares into the window behind Jean. There is an odd expression on his face, one that she can’t read.

Venti's next words are once again in a bubbly tone, the earlier melancholy washed away by newfound determination. “Seems like it’s our task to uncover what exactly is going on!” Venti jumps up and reaches for the wine bottle and glasses. “One thing I’m sure of is that you met the real Creator. Now, we just need to find out where they disappeared to.”

Diluc mutters in a tired tone, “That sounds easier said than done.”

Venti shrugs. “Last time we teamed up, we solved the mystery of Dvalin. I’m confident we’ll solve this mystery as well! In the meantime, I’ll be pulling my own strings. If I happen to find a clue, you’re the first ones to know.”

He winks at Jean, and the stress morphs into resolve. It’s awfully frustrating to have all these events happen without her ever being present. All the clues she has, are told by other people. If she wanted to find the Creator, she will have to rely on the other people in this room. 

When the Archon leaves with a wave, she sends a small one back. 

“So.” Diluc crosses his arms, “What are you going to do?”

Jean averts her eyes before she finds his gaze again. “We cannot ask Kaeya for help. At least not while he’s recovering.”

From the short distance in the room, Jean hears Diluc release a frustrated sigh. “I’ll try to ask my own contacts and see if they’ve seen anything out of the ordinary. However, I believe it’s best to keep this between us three.”Diluc rubs his temple. “If this information falls into the wrong hands, who knows what they’ll do. The Creator has been gone for five centuries. Whatever is happening now, it can’t be good.”

In the corner of her eye, Jean sees Lisa nod in agreement. She, too, agrees with Diluc. Jean nods. “Then we’ll wait for your return.” When the brunette faces turns her head, Jean speaks directly to her. “Can you keep an eye on Kaeya for now? I don’t think he’ll do anything to our disadvantage, but I have a feeling he won’t give up on finding the Creator once he’s better.”

“Of course.”

Lisa lets out a warm chuckle, a sound that suggests she's concealing her own thoughts and opinions on the matter—something she’ll likely share once Diluc has left. 

“Alright then.” Diluc purses his lips and gives Jean a firm nod. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“Be safe, Master Diluc.” Jean calls out to him as he closes the door. Although the situation is less than comfortable, she feels safer knowing she can trust on the people around her. 

And so, she waits—until one of her three confidants have found a lead.

When Jean received a letter from Diluc only a day later with an urgent request to meet up, Jean felt her life shatter at her feet. Time seemed to pass antagonisingly slow as she waited for Diluc. In the end, it took only a few hours for him to arrive at her office—it really hadn’t made sense for her to worry as much as she did. Still, the urgency he noted in his letter made her feel off about the whole meeting.

Diluc never sits down in the chair across from Jean. A habit, or perhaps he felt too awkward, and considering he had a past with the Knights of Favonius—the latter made more sense. Either way, Jean is forced to follow his pacing form shift around the room. Without Lisa, the atmosphere between the two was more relaxed, and Diluc is able to speak more freely.

“I’m planning on visiting Liyue myself. Because of the wine industry, I could enter the city on business terms even with the lockdown.” Diluc speaks his thoughts out loud, and the words are said as a statement. He never directly asks for Jean’s opinion or her approval, which he doesn’t need, but it still makes her feel out of control.

Jean clears her throat as subtly as she can before easing into the one sided conversation of Diluc which started after he told her about Rex Lapis' passing. “Why don’t you take one of the Knights?“

She would have offered to go herself, but with her title, she was bound to Mondstadt. She watches Diluc abruptly stop as she pulls him out of his train of thoughts. His eyes sharpen for a moment, eyebrows lowering, and his mouth opens before quickly changing his mind and relaxing when his eyes meet hers. 

He hangs his head low and sighs. “I’d rather not.“

“Diluc,“ He looks up when she calls out his name, “I don’t doubt your strengths, but with the return of the Creator and the death of an Archon, this problem might be beyond our own limits. We should not act hastily.”

His face sours again. “You’re right, and it’s exactly why I won’t let some rookie Knight waddle into Liyue without any knowledge of what’s happening. Whoever you’re thinking of sending, he’ll only burden me.”

Jean purses her lips together, not missing the words he chose. Even without communicating, the two had been thinking about the same person.

He speaks again, “I need you to stay here and keep watch of Mondstadt while I’m gone. I’ll be leaving in a few days after I’ve gotten everything in order.” He crosses his arms, eyes softening despite the serious expression on his face, “I will contact you if I know more.”

Hopeless and without power, she watches Diluc exit as fiercely as he had entered her office. Nowadays, it seemed common for him to stir fires and leave as he unknowingly lets them fester into an inferno.

It had seemed so easy and petty to send her own battalion of Knights while Diluc was still preparing for the trip, but she knew he was right. Only a few people were suited to go to Liyue, and Diluc was one of the two.

The warm steam of the tea in front of Jean swirls upwards and around the room, spreading a soft floral scent that relaxes her despite the stress that she should be feeling. Lisa, who sits across from her, smiles as she watches the tension elevate from Jean’s shoulders. While it wasn’t uncommon for her to bring in tea for the Acting Grand Master, it was uncommon for Jean to nearly doze off in the comfort. 

“Oh dear,” Lisa puts her hand in front of her mouth in a cheeky motion, “If anyone were to enter they’d surely think we’d be slacking off.”

A frustrated sigh escapes Jean’s lips and the tension returns to her body. “I doubt anyone would. They’re all still in the belief of the era of peace. The worst reports I’ve been getting as of late consist of inebriated citizens making too much noise after dark or cats being stuck on roofs.” 

Lisa can’t help the chuckle escape her lips. Sometimes it felt like she enjoyed seeing people twist and turn in discomfort, but Jean knew better. 

“Have you gotten any news on Kaeya?”

The brunette brings her teacup to her lips before setting it down again. “It’s hard to tell what he is actually thinking, but he seems to be back to normal. Earlier today, I saw him enter Angel’s Share.”

“What…?” Jean sits upright and raises an eyebrow. “This early? Isn’t he supposed to patrol until the evening? Has anyone taken over his shift?”

Calm and collected as always, Lisa pushes the porcelain cup in Jean’s direction, a silent reminder for her to relax once more. “It’ll be alright. The abyss order is no longer a problem, and we shouldn’t act like there is one either.” She tilts her head, and a strand of brown hair falls onto her cheek, “For the people it is important to see the Grand Master at ease.”

“Acting— ” Jean mutters out, “Acting Grand Master.”

The tea in front of her has cooled down to a comfortable temperature, and she brings it up to her lips. It had been a couple of days since she had gotten proper sleep and regular meals. Perhaps Lisa had been right, but with Diluc leaving the city tomorrow, she continues to feel restless. 

With only Lisa in the room, Jean lets her body slack in the chair. Papers that were due had been pushed to the corners of her desk, making place for the two, now empty, cups of tea. There was so much to do, but everything felt insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

These moments of silence are the only thing keeping her sane, and she appreciates how Lisa seems to gift it to her every day. If the world were more forgiving, it’d given her more time to rest, alas everyone seems to enter her office in a whirlwind nowadays.

As the door is slammed open, Jean fumbles to make herself look presentable. 

Out of all people...

“Kaeya?!” 

The Cavalry Captain skips any greeting and goes straight to the point as he closes the door behind him. “I have some valuable information.” He walks closer, standing upright next to Lisa, who seems too immersed in her book to acknowledge him. He continues, “I know it might seem like a false rumor, useless gossip—if you may,” His voice falters for a second, his smile falling before reappearing, “but if the news is true, it’d give us an edge.”

Lisa continues to hold her book up, but Jean can see how her eyes have moved up. While she appears unbothered, she is most certainly curious about this tidbit.

Jean watches him carefully. “What news?”

He leans in closer, his voice lower, careful. “Some Fatui were talking about the passing of the Geo Archon.”

From the inside, Jean feels a wave of relief washes over her. When he had entered the room in such an unsuspecting way, she had expected yet another big problem to be shoved into her lap. 

She crosses her legs and inhales sharply as she looks up at him. “We know.”

“You know?” His expression turns into genuine shock, something many people will never see on Kaeya’s face. 

From the corner of Jean’s eye, she can see Lisa resist a chuckle. “I assume you didn’t get this information from the streets? Say, what were you doing in Angel’s share during work hours?” Her forest green eyes move up to him and he dramatically puts a hand on his hip. 

“Gathering intel, as you heard. Though, it seems to be old intel for you.”

Kaeya leans his hand onto Lisa’s chair before he shifts his weight once more. He tries to hide it, but with the confirmation of the intel being true, he is filled with more questions than answers. And instead of asking any, he dances around it.

“I know you don’t believe me, really, I don’t blame you.” He stops for a moment, putting his hand on his chest, “But now with the death of Rex Lapis? Something must be wrong.”

Jean remembers that he still believes that he and Albedo are the only ones to feel the Creator’s aura, and thus their identity. If he hadn’t acted on his own earlier—had he known about Venti—she might’ve told him. 

Before she can do anything, Lisa swiftly acts out and calls out her name. Jean hums, listening to what follows, “Perhaps it would be time to send a diplomat to assess the situation in Liyue,” and the reasoning she gives afterward forces Jean into a corner. 

Kaeya, too, joins in to further pressure her. It is after Lisa continues to push Jean, suggesting to send him, that she finally gives in—hoping her beloved librarian has more than an impulse in mind. 

“Okay,” Jean watches Kaeya’s eye brighten, “but you need to take Diluc with you.” 

The smile on his face falters. ”Diluc, really?”

”He was the one who told me about Liyue’s predicament, and he is more than capable of handling situations like these.” 

Perhaps Lisa made the right move to push her in this direction. She still felt unsettled with Diluc leaving on his own. If Kaeya were to go with him, he’d be prevented from doing anything reckless by himself, and in return, Diluc would keep an close eye on Kaeya. 

While it might seem like a punishment to both, it would’ve been the best course of action for Jean. She watches as Kaeya starts to give in, uttering a ‘fine’ in agreement. 

With a lighter feeling in her chest knowing Diluc would at least not be alone, she asks Kaeya to keep contact, just like Diluc would. If she couldn’t investigate herself, she would have to rely on others, and two had been better than one in this case.

When Kaeya finally shuts the door, Jean looks back at Lisa who moves back into the chair across from her. When her bright eyes meet Jean, she is sent a warm smile. It is supposed to ease her, but doubt eventually settles in her mind regardless. 

“Did you really think it was wise to send him?” Jean hopes for a simple ‘yes’ in reply.

The librarian leans back into the chair, crossing her legs comfortably once she’s settled, and calmly sighing. “If he stays here, he’ll pry until he figures it out.” Lisa turns a finger in the air. “And I do believe Diluc would keep a close eye on him for us.”

Jean sighs. “Still…”

If there was something wrong, would Kaeya suffice with Diluc?

“Don’t worry so much,” Lisa places her hand over Jean’s. “We’ll figure out what’s going on.”

When a soft breeze enters her office, Jean is reminded of someone. 

“Have you heard anything of Venti?” Lisa asks. 

She shakes her head. “If what he said about his power still counts, it might take a while.”

If she thought too much about it, it seemed as if the world itself was trying to prevent its people from finding out what was true and what was not. 

“Should I brew some more tea?” Lisa asks at last. 

Jean nods, her previous thoughts forgotten in the wind. 

© intothegenshinworld. Do not copy, repost, translate or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.

[drefear]

Lost in the Lies of Us, Lost, Ain't no Finding Us

Inspired by @ofherdesire series of toxic Miguel, the characters are all theirs (aside from Miguel lol)

TW: arguing, cheating, lol bits of smut, toxicity, gaslighting, violence, crazy shit y’all.

“And if you wondered if I hate you, I do”

The day was bright and Miguel squinted at the sunlight. It was the next day, and he sighed as his doors opened.

“Peter, I don’t have time for-”

“You broke up with me through Lyla?” Her voice rang out and echoed around the metal structure, making the muscles in Miguel’s shoulders tense.

“I didn’t want to deal with this.” He turns and she’s already up on his platform, leaning to one hip with her arms folded over the yellow emblem on her chest.

“You mean you didn’t want to deal with me.” She shot back and he groaned, running his talons through his hair and feeling the knots pull against his scalp.

“I don’t even know you anymore!” He yelled and took a step towards her, his presence drowning compared to her thin physique. She backed away instinctually and he huffed through his nose. “Solías ser mi sol, pero ahora solo me muestras tu oscuridad.” He grumbled and turned away, “This doesn’t have to be so dramatic, just be professional and return my clothing.”

“So what? We can act like nothing ever happened between us? Like you didn’t love me?” She barked like an upset chihuahua and stepped into his personal space. “You’re just going to toss me aside like I’m nothing, like her?” She hissed and he swung back around to her, getting in her face.

“Do not bring her into this.” His voice dropped to an octave she’d never heard before, making her hands sweat a bit from nervousness. With tears building in her eyes, she refused to break eye contact and added to her previous statement.

“You’re nothing without me.” Her voice was shaky and her hands balled into fists, steeling herself to his gaze, but his look shifted from angry to unbothered and she felt herself waver for a second before he spoke again.

“I’d rather be nothing without you than miserable with you.”

Your hand felt warm with Pedro’s reciprocating the interaction, and the smile he gave you made everything around you blur as he was your only focus while you two ate lunch, but a ringing broke you both from your gaze and his eyes looked down.

“I have to take this.” He pecked your cheek before standing from where he was sitting and walking away. You sat on the cafeteria bench alone, waiting for him. Everything felt right, you convinced yourself.

Weeks later, and Miguel had been distant from the entirety of the society (more than usual), staying on his platform and burying his nose in multiverse affairs without leaving the comfort of his depressing desk. Everyone had heard the news of his breakup, and many were vying for the hand of one of the prettiest and most graceful spider women the society had, but he knew better. He knew what horns lay under her beautiful and soft blonde hair, the vicious tongue she had behind those white teeth that dazzled every time she smiled.

Miguel finally left his dark lair when he heard about a mishap that involved the spider t-rex and the gunslinger spiderman. He passed by the infirmary when he heard soft groans and a very familiar, sweet whimper that made his body freeze. He had heard those sounds in his own ear a few weeks ago, being the cause. As he stepped in the room, he saw shadows depicting exactly the image he assumed. He pulled the curtain and he wasn’t surprised to find his ex girlfriend on her back under someone, but it was the person on top he was furious about.

A message popped up on your watch from Miguel. It’d been so long that seeing his name on your watch frightened you, made you squirm until you read the contents of the message. You rolled your eyes, a twisted emotion spiraling out of you as you tensed. You knew it. Now that he was alone again, he was trying to wiggle his way back into your bed and to do so, he was trying to make you suspicious of your boyfriend, the man who showed you off to the world like a prize.

That was days ago, and after that phone call he’d received and the message you’d gotten from Miguel, you noticed that Pedro was distant, no longer present with you but always off in another place mentally. You were walking with Jess and Ben when you saw something your eyes weren’t meant to see.

There was your loving, doting boyfriend who you’d just been in bed with this morning, making love during the sunrise as he whispered dirty and beautiful ideas in your ear.

With his hand twirling those golden locks you’d grown to dread, come to hate.

“Shitty of you to make me feel just like this,”

Jess raised a brow as Ben continued speaking, and turned to where you were looking, inside a room where the window showed the public displays of affection your boyfriend was currently giving to your greatest rival. Your heart dropped and you felt cold everywhere.

Your hand moved to press against the door, but didn’t have the strength to open it all the way. The way her hands tangled into his black hair, her eyes looked into his as he smirked and kissed the corner of her lips, making her giggle and cover her face. You felt sick.

Nothing about this felt real, felt like the man you knew. Jess grabbed your shoulder and pulled your body into hers as your whole body trembled. The feeling in your chest felt like a crumpled piece of paper.

Your legs moved faster than your brain could process and you swung away, hiding in a hallway three floors down. Sliding over the orange glowing screens, you tapped until your found the number of your universe and opened the portal, hurrying through before anyone could see you, although you swore you heard someone call your name. Nothing mattered in that moment, you just needed to be alone and away from the rest of the society.

You refused to come to the society for days, avoiding anyone and everything in case someone tried to ask about what happened. A knock on your door broke your thoughts and you grabbed your phone, seeing all of the unread messages from your friends and Pedro.

His name glowed with a pink heart next to it and you hissed, throwing your phone across the room and watching the mirror crack down the center, shards splintering as your phone bounced onto the ground and landed face down. You covered your mouth in shock and sighed, then hearing the knocking on your front door persist, much to your discomfort. You got out of bed and padded through the dark, empty apartment. Peter B stood there in the door frame of your place, wearing a white shirt and sweatpants as you sniffled.

“Kid, I’m sorry.” He wrapped his arms around you before you could protest, and you sank into his embrace. The warmth was the most solace you’d had since the afternoon you found Pedro with her.

“Now I’m out here silent treatment, that means no permission,”

Peter sat with you as you gathered yourself, finally opening your phone to the many unread messages from Pedro, finally opening the walls of texts with heavy hands and cold blood.

“I should call him, tell him it’s over-”

A buzz made both your and Peter’s watches go off with an emergency alarm going off. What ironic timing.

“Think you can handle this right now?” Peter asked before opening the portal to the dimension you both were being summoned to.

“The distraction might help me put off talking to him, so yes.” You nodded before hitting a button and feeling the feeling of your suit taking form over your face. Following Peter, you saw red laser-like webs holding back the danger you assumed was an anomaly, to which you got straight to work and soared throughout the buildings beside you, webbing off the area from pedestrians who may get caught in the crossfire.

Peter swings to speak to Miguel while a blonde ponytail sways and catches your eye. Of course she was summoned, Miguel’s personal guard dog. You glared at her behind your mask and she just wiggled her fingers at you.

She knew.

You couldn’t get distracted now, as you saw a small boy trying to get past your barrier and jumped down to him, carrying him to safety before jumping back towards Peter and Miguel.

“What’s the plan?” You asked and Miguel swallowed thickly, not even sure if he could trust his voice to speak to you. “Hello? Earth to O’Hara!” You flailed your arms in a rushed motion before pushing both the men out of the way. He huffed as you fell into his chest from pushing him and he looked up.

“It’s got a weakness behind its neck to disarm the suit it’s using, but it’s not-” You moved before he could even stop speaking, and he ran to follow. “You can’t just jump into action!” He yelled and you shook your head.

“Get Peter to make a landing bed of some sort, find Little Miss Muffet and get her out of my way, and you need to find me a metal pipe or bat. I got this. Trust me?” You finished and he stopped in his tracks, looking to see what you were planning. It was a long shot, but he trusted you.

He followed your orders, instructing Peter to make a landing bed for you before grabbing the other spider woman and dragging her to where Peter was. “Help him, I’m going to find something.”

“Miggy-”

“Shut up.” He shot her a warning glance, signifying that now was not the time, and ran through the streets before finding a long, metal rod from the collapsing building next to the four of you. A portal opened above his head and he found another Spider jumping through.

“Am I too late?”

“Just in time, now go help Peter.” Miguel barked at Pedro and ran back to you. He called your name and as if in slow motion, threw the heavy metal to you.

You smoothly caught the metal rod thrown to you and swung around as the anomaly chased you before you purposefully dragged it in a circle, then smashing the rod against the small electrical panel on the back of its neck. You landed and stood beside Peter as you saw Pedro panting, then opening the portal to HQ and marching through. You wanted to get away from everyone as fast as possible, and HQ was the opposite of the space you needed. Your legs were trudging, not wanting to cooperate with your brain, but you knew you had to document what happened.

A hand grabbed your wrist as you entered sector 2 of HQ, trying to get to your office, but now stopped you. You turned to see Pedro staring at you with furrowed brows and concern creased by his mouth, by the lips you had let kiss you all over. Your mask disintegrated into your suit and you let tears fall down your cheek.

“You’re just like him.” You whispered and he looked down, gripping your arm hard enough to make you wince now.

“I’m nothing like him.” His voice was volatile and gave you a shiver of fear, unrecognizable to you. The Pedro you knew wasn’t dark and brooding like this, not like Miguel, and he wouldn’t hurt you. “That piece of shit, that cheating, lying son of a bitch, I would never hurt you like-“

“Let go.” You spoke up, voice cracking as you saw Peter walk through the portal now and step close to you both. Miguel and his ex-girlfriend followed, watching the scene intensely. “I said-”

“But you’re mine! My everything, mi corazon-” His hands moved to cup your face and you pushed him backwards.

“I saw you with her!” You shouted, putting space between you both. “You- You chose her, just like him!” You cried out, clutching your hands to your chest like you’d been shot in the ribs, holding your body as if trying to conceal the wound from the world. Afraid of everyone else seeing you cry, you hit a button to return your mask. You heard the tall blonde scoff from behind Pedro and saw her smirk, looking away, and your eyes snapped to stare at her incredulously.

Balling your fists, your eyes watered hidden behind red and blue technology before you got inhumanly angry. A roar ripped against your vocal chords as you lunged towards her, her spidersenses obviously not fast enough to protect her from your speed, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her to the ground with you. You slashed at her suit as she let out a scream and your vision became red with rage, then feeling large arms pull your form from hers. She crawled backwards, disheveled and out of breath from trying to hold you off, as you scratched and thrashed against the person holding you.

“Get yourself together, mi amor.” Miguel’s voice whispered in your ear and your whole body calmed, closing your eyes and drowning in his scent. “You’re better than this.”

“He cheated on me with her!” You sobbed, holding your eyes and cheeks as your body shook from the overwhelming sadness and emotions pouring from you. Peter stood beside Miguel and frowned at the girl on the ground a few feet from the group of you, seeing Pedro move to help her up.

“He…” Miguel frowned and held you closer to him, then shooting a deadly look at Pedro. “Stay away from her.”

“Don’t tell me what to do after what you did to her!” He barked at Miguel and the larger of the two sneered, like an angry pitbull.

“I told you to protect her, I told you not to hurt her, and you did exactly that!”

“What you put her through was worse.”

“This isn’t a competition.” Peter interjected and looked at each of them, then pulled you from Miguel’s arms. “While I don’t know what Miguel did, you both obviously hurt her enough, don’t you think?” Peter asked and Pedro immediately moved to take your hand again.

“Mi corazon-”

“Not yours!” You hissed and jerked your hand away. Peter opened a portal to your universe and walked with you through it.

Miguel stood as the three of them watched you leave in silence. Pedro slowly turned to Miguel and narrowed his eyes. “This is your fault.” He mumbled and Miguel raised a brow to him, confused. Where was this new side of Pedro coming from? This wasn’t the same warm smiled man who you walked hand in hand with around HQ, but he could say the same for the sunny spider woman currently sitting on the ground with scratch marks and bruises forming on her skin from your sudden assault.

“Excuse me?” Miguel replied, but the other man just shook his head and walked away, mask in a clenched fist by his side. Without another glance, Miguel walked away, feeling the weight of the past year on his shoulders.

[bookishfeylin]

The AU in which Feyre is Resurrected as a Human

@feylinweek

For Feylin week day 3: AU. I’d love to revisit this AU and flesh this out into a multi chapter fic (I’m thinking maybe 5-8ish chapters?) at a later time but here’s a oneshot for now, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t go super in depth. :)

It was numbing, and painful, to emerge into the daylight after months stuck in the darkness Under the Mountain. 

Feyre winced, and leaned into Tamlin further as he led her outside, letting the sunshine wash away all the worries she’d been nursing ever since Amarantha had reminded her of the ultimate fate of her relationship with Tamlin. 

She supposed she should be grateful—after all, she’d never heard of another human being resurrected by the High Lords of Prythian—and Feyre supposed she should focus on that rather than her worries over her relationship with Tamlin ending as she aged and died within the next century, but Amarantha had made a good point. She was only human. Tamlin was not. For now they could be happy. But it wouldn’t last.

“Are you alright, Feyre?” Tamlin asked, his gentle question interrupting her spiraling thoughts. 

Unable to speak, Feyre nodded. Darkness and horror clawed at her heart and mind, but Feyre didn’t want them to take over. So she nodded, and cleared her mind.

~~~

The marriage happened a year later, when Prythian was finally at peace, and the darkness and horror had finally left her alone.

But the anxiety stayed, and on their honeymoon Feyre finally, finally found the strength to voice her long-suppressed worry.

“Don’t forget about me after I die.”

She’d spent months agonizing over how to say it, and in the end decided not to sugar coat it.

In Tamlin’s arms, she felt him shift at her statement, before his knuckle came under her chin to tilt her head up.

She was surprised to see confusion in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I assume after me you’ll have another wife, centuries from now. And I’m ok with that… I just— I just don’t want you to forget me.”

“I could never forget you. But I already know I will not be taking another wife after you, Feyre. And I hope you know that too.”

“Tam—””

“I don’t want you to worry, love. I’m determined to grow old beside you.” Feyre laughed at that, knowing Tamlin was not going to age at nearly the same rate as she was, but accepted his declaration nonetheless. They should enjoy their happiness together while they could, after all.

~~~

Days before their tenth anniversary, Tamlin began acting differently. It started with secret meetings with Lucien, then his advisers, then quiet conversations with the staff of the manor. After noticing how tearful Alis was after one such meeting, Feyre felt compelled to ask what exactly Tamlin was telling them all, but Alis refused.

Then their tenth anniversary arrived, and it felt, to Feyre, almost like a month-long goodbye party. They toured Prythian, danced with their people, and made love under the stars. And then, the day after they returned, Feyre awoke to find a human asleep next to her.

~~~

The first thing Feyre did, upon seeing Tamlin in human form, was laugh herself senseless. Her laughter woke her husband up, and he raised a brow after he was awake enough to realize what was happening.

But her laughter ended after he explained he planned on staying in a human form for the rest of his life. “I told you I want to grow old beside you, love. I plan on sticking to that promise.”

It wound up being an emotional day for them both, especially as they packed their things and were wished well by Lucien, who Tamlin had appointed as his successor, and the staff of the manner alike. Tamlin and Feyre took a pair of horses and rode them to the border, then walked across to the Human Lands, never to return.

~~~

The decades passed by, marked first by the birth of their children, and later by their grandchildren. By the time they had entered their seventies, guilt gnawed at Feyre over Tamlin aging alongside her, and she begged him to change back into his immortal High Fae form to avoid death, but he refused.

So it nearly killed Feyre when she woke up, at 83, to find he had passed away in his sleep. Only the love for her family kept her going. 

In time, Feyre’s health too began to fail, and when at 90 she lay on her deathbed with her daughter watching over her, she was surprised to hear footsteps enter her bedchamber. Opening her eyes, Feyre breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of the blond High fae in front of her, extending a hand. 

Slowly, she took his hand, leaving her body behind as she followed after Tamlin, happy to have joined her husband in the afterlife at long last. 

They had indeed aged together. And now they would have eternity to spend together as well.

[jahayla-parker]

King Of My Heart : Nikolai Lantsov x Reader Series

Part 8

For warnings, descriptions, and previous parts, see series masterlist here.

Y/n stared blankly at her reflection in the shiny mirror a few feet before her. Her brows were furrowed faintly and lips curled downwards into a slight pout. Her posture and facial expressions reflected in the mirror matched her inner frustration. Y/n was deeply confused and annoyed.

Y/n wanted to be relaxed and carefree. But, once again Nikolai wrecked that. Even though she found herself unexpectedly having time to sneak off to the dance studio, she wasn’t exactly happy. Nikolai had stopped y/n on the way to their trade meeting this evening. She had been prepared for him to hurl some insult her way. Only, he instead told her that she was no longer needing to attend the nightly trade meetings.

Y/n wanted to just accept Nikolai’s statement and run with it. Trade meetings were the worst. Plus, it would mean one less mandatory meeting spent with the Prince. However, last time she skipped the trade meeting, it had gotten back to her parents and she’d gotten in trouble. So, she couldn’t risk trusting that Nikolai wasn’t lying about it in hopes that it would happen again.

Y/n wasn’t sure she believed him, and Nikolai sensed as much so he had shown her the signed letter from the King stating she’d that was not needed in attendance at those meetings anymore. So, y/n had, of course, then asked the Prince why she didn’t need to be there suddenly. That’s when things shifted. Nikolai told y/n that he couldn’t stand her being there if all she was going to do was try to correct him or speak over him. Y/n knew they hated each other. But, Nikolai was taking it to the point he was making things up things now?! She knew she had never once spoken over him, nor attempted to correct him. Well, not during this particular type of meeting. Trade was out of her scope of knowledge, and given that she knew about Sturmhond, she always let Nikolai take the lead. Yet, he was now saying she was doing the opposite?

Y/n couldn’t understand it. Why just this meeting? And why was he lying about what she was doing during the meeting? She was half tempted to still attend out of spite. And also to be sure there wasn’t anything going on behind her back as it was all too suspicious. However, she had to admit she was pulled to use the free time in the studio more. Her desire to practice her ballet outweighed her curiosity and concern. Plus, she determined she wouldn’t likely know what was going on even if she did attend nor if she spent the time spying on the meeting taking place in her absence.

Yet, here y/n was, standing in front of the mirror, not dancing. She groaned and ran her hand down her face before she took a deep breath. She needed to focus. She could stress about that all later; now was the only time she’d have to use the studio though. She closed her eyes and repeated the reminder as a form of meditation before she began her stretches.

Nikolai glanced over at the gold encrusted clock on the far wall. It had only been twenty minutes into the two hour meeting. Yet, he had already found that his attention waning and his eyes were lingering on the doorway even as the rounds of merchants updated him. He took a sip of his kvas as he nodded along to the latest update.

As another merchant began complaining about the weather making their latest shipment of sugar and jelly harder, Nikolai had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. There were far more important things he could be doing now rather than reassuring nervous merchants that the kingdom understood bad weather could impact trade routes and delivery estimates. As such, when he watched the next man hesitate as he slowly approached the Prince, Nikolai called it. “Anyone else who has run into trouble after Storm Sashan can rest easy knowing Ravka recognizes this and sympathies with you,” he stated as he rose from his dais. “Should you find yourself needing resources due to any decreased compensation from such troubles, please see Sentinel Baranov. You’ll find him near the office on the left of the second floor to the palace,” he advised politely. “Anyone with other issues, please see General Nazyalensky for assistance.” Zoya wasn’t going to be pleased with him. “My apologies, but I have something pressing to attend to,” Nikolai declared as he made his way to the exit he’d been staring at throughout the meeting.

Nikolai rested the side of his head against the wooden doorframe as he watched y/n through the cracked doorway. He knew his friends and family would surely make fun of his facial expressions if he were caught right now. Yet, he still couldn’t help but smile as he find himself awestruck once again at y/n’s flawless dancing.

Nikolai’s irresponsible behavior went on all week. He hadn’t been caught right away as the storm in True Sea had continued for several days resulting in countless trade impacts. It wasn’t until one of the merchants they’d not heard from before Nikolai prematurely left actually needed further help that he’d been caught. As Nikolai had advised in his typical nightly statement, the merchant reached out to Zoya for further help. In turn, Zoya questioned Nikolai’s behaviors. Nikolai had brushed it off by offering a generic response, saying he was needing to be elsewhere. When General Nazyalensky understandably questioned it, he deflected by suggesting that she should take over completely for him at the trade meetings moving forward for awhile. To justify the suggestion, he pointed out that as the second Prince, he was unable to offer much help. Whereas, given it was a storm, Zoya could use her abilities as a squaller to potentially do more or at least have more insight into the storm and its impacts.

General Nazyalensky had her doubts but complied nonetheless as she knew it was her duty to do as asked. That didn’t mean she wasn’t deeply curious to where the youngest Lantsov heir was truly running off to each night.

In his defense, Nikolai wasn’t skipping the trade meeting for no reason. He had a reason. If anyone asked, he could claim to just be trying you get to know his betrothed. After all, she was going to become the Grand Duchess of Udova and daughter-in-law to His Most Royal Majesty, King Alexander the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne. Therefore, how could anyone deny the importance for Nikolai to get to know her?

Besides, it technically wasn’t a lie. After all, each night that week, Nikolai had left the meeting in order to go watch y/n dance. The sight of her y/h/c shining under the dimmed lights while it was tucked into a bun as she frolicked throughout the room elegantly often stuck with him long into his dreams each night.

After Nikolai had asked Zoya to take his place, that week turned into several more weeks just like it. He knew he was falling hopelessly for the Princess from the first time he saw her so gently and gracefully dancing (instantly thinking about how different it was from how he usually saw her when she was around him) & felt the way he did years ago. The only difference was Nikolai was in deep now. So deep in fact, that after the first week he had arranged for Genya to teach him how to dance. The Prince of course had some basic dance skills given his Royal upbringing. But, he didn’t know ballet, nor did he know how to dance with someone while doing ballet. So, he had to recruit the one person he could trust to know every dance imaginable and would be willing to teach him; Genya Safin.

Nikolai waited until he’d completed several sessions with ease before he joined y/n. That way he’d be less likely to make a fool of himself again in front of her. He had messed up last time when trying to make his feelings known and he didn’t want to do that again. That’s why they hated each other; or rather, why y/n started to hate Nikolai. It was a mistake, but one he couldn’t risk to make again. At the time, Nikolai hadn’t known how she had interpreted it. He thought y/n knew what he’d been about to do and was so disgusted by his interest in her that she began to show her hatred towards him. In turn, he had shielded himself from the hurt by returning said hated. At some point, the hatred felt so natural that Nikolai had forgotten what even started it. But, now he knew better. However, if he messed this up it risked everything as y/n would never believe him explaining himself for that day if he messed up that badly again now.

Tonight, Nikolai had finally summoned up enough confidence to approach y/n. Well, more like he had enough of Genya pushing him to do so, and as she put it, “stop being a creepy stalker and approach her”. Either way, he found himself wandering down the hallway to find y/n tonight. He paused briefly in the doorway, the idea of entering feeling unnerving.

“It’s is a shame no one will dance with you,” Nikolai mumured as he made his way into the old office space.

Y/n spun around and glared at Nikolai. “I was enjoying-,” she groaned.

“The people in this palace really do have bad taste,” Nikolai added with a small smile. When the Princess’s glare softened, he took another step closer.

“Excuse me?” Y/n interrogated. She squinted pointedly at Nikolai in suspicion. “Was that a… compliment?”

“Well,” Nikolai began quietly as he stood before y/n. “You are much more tolerable when dancing,” he smirked.

“How would you know?” Y/n scoffed. She crossed her arms over her chest and analyzed him dubiously.

“I’ve seen it,” Nikolai admitted, his cheeks flushing at the confession. He hoped the light from the chandelier overhead wasn’t highlighting his bashful blush too much.

Y/n raised an eyebrow at the Prince in question. “So, you were.., what? You were watching me?” She shook her head. “Degenerate,” she huffed. “I will have you know that sane women do not find that flattering, moi tsarevich,” y/n remarked.

Nikolai forced himself to roll his eyes. “Well, I will have you know that given that we may have to dance together for the reception coming up, I had to make sure you weren’t going to step on my toes all night,” he said as a coverup.

Y/n hummed dismissively. She shot Nikolai a look as she turned around to resume her dancing. Why did he have to ruin everything? Couldn’t she just have one thing the Prince didn’t intrude on or destroy?

Nikolai shook his head to himself. He threw his head back and glanced up at the sparkling crystals of the chandelier. He took a deep breath as he lowered his head back to center and closed the gap between him and y/n. Nikolai cautiously reached down and grasped her hand.

“What are you doing?” Y/n questioned as she stared at Nikolai in disgust.

"What are we dancing to?" Nikolai asked as he walked backwards. His lips curled up slightly as hesitantly y/n followed him to the center of the wooden floor.

“I was dancing to Zvezdnaya Noch' Lyubvi,” y/n answered slowly. She wasn’t sure what the Prince was up to, but his hand was oddly gentle and hers fit way too properly in it. “By Konstantin Belov,” y/n added. She didn’t know why she was answering a question he hadn’t even asked. But, the still silence and uncharacteristically soft way Nikolai was looking at her made her feel like she had to break the silence. This was getting too weird.

“I propose it would be better as a pas de dux,” Nikolai causally commented. He held y/n’s hand in the air between them in silent question.

“How did you…,” y/n’s timid voice trailed off. “Where did you hear that term?” She wondered, still staring at Nikolai in disbelief.

Nikolai smirked. Thank the Saints for Genya Safin and her infinite knowledge of dances. He innocently shrugged. “Seems maybe I am not as uncultured as you thought,” Nikolai teased, “hmm?” He laughed lightly as y/n sucked in her bottom lip hesitantly but got into her starting position nonetheless.

Nikolai took hold of y/n’s hand, lifting it up in the space between them as he watched her spin around on her toes. He grinned as her facial features softened in time to the dance. He noticed the way she refused to look him in the eye but nonetheless maintained physical contact as they progressed through the moves.

Nikolai gently tugged y/n’s hand towards his chest, his breath suddenly knocked out of his lungs when she elegantly slid into place against him. He stared down at her as he kept her close, their heated breaths increasing the palpable tension between them.

“Don't you dare look at me that way,” Y/n suddenly ordered as she stepped back to begin her next move.

Nikolai’s face flushed as he tried to pull himself together. “Like what?” He asked breathlessly.

“You know what,” y/n hissed. She sent him a sharp side-glare as she completed her Arabesque. “Do not play with me, Nikolai,” she commanded as she lowered her horizontally extended leg back to the wooden floor.

“I am doing no such thing, Princess y/n,” Nikolai assured her. He kept a firm grasp on her hand to ensure she didn’t lose her balance. Not that it appeared as though y/n needed such assistance. He just couldn’t help himself.

“You are looking at me as though you do not hate me,” y/n argued as she spun back into Nikolai’s chest. Her hand was clasped in his and pinned against his torso by her own chest. She gazed up into his eyes as she waited for an answer.

Nikolai blinked slowly as his eyes took in the scene before him. Y/n’s face was slightly flushed from the exercise, her lips plump and slightly pursed as she questioningly stared up at him. “I am trying so hard to hate you still,” He admitted in a barely audible whisper. “But, I no longer know why,” Nikolai confessed as he slowly licked his bottom lip, his eyes resting on her.

“I do,” y/n defended. Although, she couldn’t deny the way her voice sounded far away. She quickly tore her eyes from Nikolai’s. As she spun away from his chest, she closed her eyes; only to find it was as though Nikolai’s hazel eyes were now somehow burned onto the inside of her eyelids.

Nikolai didn’t respond, instead, he resumed watching the Princess dance. His eyes struggled to find a singular point to focus on. Was he to focus on y/n’s delicate fingers as elegantly rolled her free hand out her side in time with the music, her long legs as she extended one swiftly behind her as she spun out of Nikolai’s hold, her lips as she unconsciously let her tongue peak over her bottom lip just enough to moisten it as she focused? He couldn’t decide. His rapidly changing focus nearly caused him to miss the signal for his next movement. Nearly.

Y/N held her demi plié, one hand extended for Nikolai to take once he completed an entrechat. She watched with silent intrigue as Nikolai moved into perfect fifth position. Her lips parted in awe as the Prince gracefully leapt from the ground and executed an impressively refined entrechat.

Heat flowed to Nikolai’s ears as he noticed y/n’s amazement. He fought off a smirk and settled on a charming smile as he took hold of her hand once again. Despite having seemingly impressed the Princess moments ago, he again found himself breathless as the two of them danced around the long forgotten Royal office, their bodies never more than a few inches apart.

Y/n stared into Nikolai’s eyes as he cautiously wrapped his arms around her waist. She noticed how he was consciously respectful of his hand placement despite the closeness between them currently. She rested her free hand on his torso as she left him slowly recline her backwards.

Nikolai focused intently on keeping his hands steady as he hesitantly dipped y/n backwards. It was the final movement to their ballet, but he feared his nerves would get the best of him and he didn’t want to drop her. However, as he looked into her eyes to see if she was worried he’d let her go, he found her to be staring back at him. His cheeks flushed crimson as a bashful smile took over his face. He listened to the peaceful sound of y/n’s breathing as he gazed back admiringly at her.

A million self-directed scolds echoed in y/n’s mind as she practically gaped at the Prince. But she couldn’t help it. When did Nikolai learn to dance? Had his eyes always been that bright? Always had that sunburst effect to them? Y/n wasn’t sure. All she knew was she couldn’t stop surveying their appearance now as Nikolai peered down at her. She felt his warm breath tickle her skin as his eyes appeared closer. Y/n had barely registered that his eyes had closed briefly before she felt his supple lips on hers.

Y/n gasped audibly as Nikolai’s lips parted from hers. She felt him guide her back until she was once again standing straight up. Yet, she felt far dizzier than she ever had before. She instinctively clung onto the satin fabric that was cinched at the Prince’s wrist for balance. “Y-you kissed me,” y/n whispered.

Nikolai chuckled. All the ecstasy he’d felt when his lips met hers briefly shifted into confidence when he saw y/n’s dazed gaze. He smugly bit into his bottom lip and nodded. “You’re stating the obvious, Princess,” he teased.

“But,.. “ y/n huffed quietly. She stepped back infinitesimally, her hand not leaving Nikolai’s wrist for fear of her legs giving out under her. They were still tingling uncontrollably and she wasn’t sure why or how to make it stop. Y/n’s eyes scanned Nikolai’s face with bated breath. “Why?” She asked wispily.

Nikolai smirked. “Because it’s fun,” he answered.

Y/n squinted as her eyes flickered aimlessly. “But… you hate me,” she argued.

“I used to believe that too,” Nikolai admitted. He dropped his cocky smirk and slid the arm y/n was gripping back to himself until he was able to take hold of her hand.

Y/n stared at Nikolai in confusion. Her eyes trailed from their hands back up to his face. “I hate you,” she reminded him, her voice soft.

“Do you?” Nikolai questioned y/n. She had every right to. But, the look on her face right before he’d found the courage to kiss her suggested otherwise. Or, that at a minimum, there might be other feelings there as well.

“Yes,” y/n replied as she glared down at their hands.

“Really?” Nikolai pressed, tilting y/n’s head up with his left thumb.

“Yes,” y/n repeated. She internally scolded herself for how flimsy the word sounded leaving her lips. She needed to get ahold of herself. “Really,” she added defiantly as her face returned to Nikolai’s face. She stared at his right eyebrow, the slightly bushier one, in order to not allow herself to fall into whatever trap she had when looking into his eyes earlier.

Nikolai’s lips curled as a small exhalation left his nose. “I must say, lying does suit you, sweetheart,” he flirted. He wasn’t sure what had suddenly come over him. Maybe it was the potential he saw in y/n’s eyes right before he kissed her. Maybe it was the tension he felt throughout their ballet. Maybe it just his normal confidence finally allowing him to act on the feelings he had harbored for the Princess for ages.

Y/n sharply slid her hand out of Nikolai’s with a pointed gaze. “Do not flirt with me,” she stated defensively. She should’ve known this was all some ruse the Prince was conjuring up. “If I was a fool, I’d think you didn’t actually hate me as much as you say you do."

Nikolai’s smile faltered as y/n’s hand left his. Nonetheless, he kept his head high. “You aren’t a fool, y/n,” he stated. He saw the confusion, hesitancy, and a range of other emotions stir up in the Princess as she squinted at him. He quickly covered up his sudden compliment/confession with a cocky remark. “After all, even my duty couldn’t force me to marry a fool,” he commented.

Y/n huffed and rolled her eyes. “And how does that work when you are the fool, Your Highness?” She taunted.

Nikolai smirked at the familiarity of y/n’s banter. “Admit it,” he dared, stepping closer. “You've always sort of liked me”.

Y/n scoffed and promptly stepped back to keep the distance between them. As much as she wanted to keep the belief this was some trick, she could see the worry in the Prince’s eyes. He should have nothing to fear if it truly were a trap in which he was trying to get y/n to say she liked him. Worse case scenario, he’d not get the chance to tease her for the unrequited feelings he seemed to be implying she had for him. So why did he look afraid? Her scowl shrank as a terrifying possibility came to mind. “You're not...falling for me, are you?" Y/n asked hesitantly.

“I will confess that things were easier when we had set our minds on hating each other,” Nikolai replied. It wasn’t an answer exactly. It wasn’t truly an answer at all. But he didn’t know what else to say.

“Hmm,” y/n mumbled as she tried to read through Nikolai’s words. His vague statement left too much room for misinterpretations. Which was likely his goal. “It would be easier now though to not,” she conceited with a sigh. “So, in the interest of that, do not start these games,” she warned.

“That’s true,” Nikolai nodded. “But-“.

“But, what?” Y/n inquired skeptically.

Nikolai slowly moved closer to y/n. He gave her a warm smile as he gently pulled her hands to him by her fingertips. “But, it’s not a game,” he confessed when y/n didn’t instantly pull away. He took a deep breath and gazed down at her. While maintaining eye contact, he whispered, “and I do not care what’s easier, I’d chose you regardless”.

“Don’t do this,” Y/n said, her breath shaking.

“Do what?” Nikolai asked as he closed the space between him and y/n.

“Try to make me like you,” y/n answered. Her breath hitched as her and Nikolai’s interlaced hands became trapped between their chests once again.

“I don’t think I have to try,” Nikolai replied quietly as he stared into y/n’s y/e/c eyes.

“I hate you,” y/n said breathily as she fought to maintain her composure.

Nikolai pulled y/n impossibly closer and lowered his head until he had kissed her again. “Do you?” He asked as they parted.

“Yes,” y/n gasped quietly. Her eyelashes fluttered against her high cheekbones as she stared back at the Prince. “I hate you,” she echoed in a whisper as she eyed his lips.

Nikolai’s warm breath trailed over y/n’s face as he lowered his head and dove in for another kiss. “Say it again,” he whispered.

“I hate you,” y/n murmured quietly. She hated him; didn’t she? She undoubtedly hated herself as she watched her gaze drop back down to Nikolai’s mouth expectantly.

Nikolai’s lips were hovering just above y/n’s when she suddenly stepped back. He felt the tremble in her hands as she yanked them away from him.

“I…” y/n breathed. “..I…, Saints, I hate you!” she huffed as she spun on her heel. As soon as her back was to Nikolai, she felt her eyes water. He truly just had to ruin things, didn’t he? She desperately had to get back to her chambers before anyone saw her tearful eyes.

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[acourtofthought]

Hey! I’m new here so I don’t know what is or isn’t true when it comes to what SJM said. But I saw someone say that she confirmed that the next acotar book is gonna focus on Az. Do you know if that’s true or not?

Because I wouldn’t mind if she did Az next, but I really hope she would do all the sisters first. I want to see what’s going on with Elain from her POV.

Hello new friend! We're very happy to have you here though I apologize ahead of time because some days are a bit like the Wild Wild West!!

Sarah did not confirm that the next book will be Az's book or POV though she also did not confirm that it will be Elain or Mor, etc. We're still in the dark on who is actually get a POV which is different than a character's journey as many of her characters journey's begin well before they actually get a book.

This is all the information we've had over the years (I have screenshots of the exact quotes but to make it easier I'm going to paraphrase to the best of my ability rather than sorting through my phone for them all):

While talking about how the sisters reappearance in ACOMAF changed the course of the series - "I'd like to write a spin-off novels for the sisters someday."

Sarah later went on to have dinner with her then editor and told her about the side project she was working on for herself (the Nessian story) and about what plans she had for Elain, and Mor, and Az. Two weeks later she got a call saying they wanted to buy her spin-off books, contracting her for 3 full length novels and two novellas. Sarah also stated that she knew who the first two books would be about.

In another interview Sarah repeated this, saying how she knew who the first two spin-off books were going to be about but was leaving the door open for the third. (I have to imagine the first two were Nesta and Elain at that point, she wouldn't be debating on the third if Elain hadn't gotten one of the first two).

In a special edition of A Court of Frost and Starlight there's an interview in the back of the novella where Sarah talks about being pregnant with her first son and how she was in nesting mode and in her yard pulling weeds and gardening. She said everything she did during that time was research for Elain's book because Elain is a gardener, that Elain is now going to have nightmares about ivy crawling through the windows and strangling her because "let me tell you, that ivy does not want to let go."

In Live Talks LA with Eva Chen, Sarah said that because she knew early on where she wanted the sisters journey's to go she was able to plant seeds for their stories early on (as early as ACOMAF / ACOWAR and even SF which included crumbs for Elain).

In a Live on IG with Steph, Sarah was asked whether Az would get a book. Sarah said by the time you get to the end of SF, she thinks it will be obvious who the next book is about and Az's journey is one she's very excited to write about. This seems to be one of the big things people hold onto in regards to Az being next because of his bonus but his bonus did not come at the end of the book and "journey" does not necessarily mean he's ready for a book as evidenced above. She spoke about the seeds for Elain and Nesta's journey's in Feyre's trilogy, well before they had gotten a book. The sisters "journey's" truly began in ACOMAF and included everything leading up to SF. Journey for Az could simply be us seeing the fallout from his behavior in his bonus, where he claimed Elain had no interest in Lucien, that he'd defeat Lucien with little effort or his statement that Elain can't handle the darkness of the trove. Az's journey might simply include Lucien receiving a POV in the next book wth Elain and Lucien proving Az wrong. The end of SF, in my opinion, doesn't set up an Az book, it sets up an Elucien book because we're specifically told by Eris that the characters don't need to worry about ancient history, they need to worry about Beron, the peace treaty and Koschei (things that seem to be hinting at an Elucien plot).

Sarah also spoke of the crumbs scattered throughout the Az bonus. Which seems to have crumbs for both the Elucien and Gwynriel ships.

In another interview, Sarah said her initial plans for the spin-offs didn't change, only that the world expanded.

In a crossover interview Sarah said CC3 would set up for future ACOTAR books (not necessarily the next ACOTAR book) and she then contracts with Bloomsbury for an additional 4 books which includes a new series. People often claim that because Az was included in a bonus with Nesta and Bryce it proves he's getting the next book but I'm not sure why an entirely different series would have any major impact on the next ACOTAR book right away considering not everyone will have read the CC series. Readers who stopped with SF are going to be focused on the open plots in SF, not what happened in a series they never heard of.

Sarah began drafting ACOTAR 5 in September 2023 (or at least confirmed then that she was drafting it) and in February 2024 said that Azriel's character is someone she'll be exploring more in the future. To me, if she had already begun working on ACOTAR 5 and had been for months the phrasing of "exploring Az more in the future" doesn't add up if he was a POV in the book she was currently working on.

Over the years, Sarah has said just as much about Elain getting the next book as any hints that Az might have the next book. Az did have a bonus chapter in SF but at the same time Lucien was given a POV in the actual series (ACOWAR). And I doubt she'd give Elain a POV because the second we're in her mind we're going to know how she really feels about Lucien, her life in the NC, etc. I think Elain's thoughts are going to give away too much of her future plot therefore it makes sense why she's been kept a secret and why Sarah addresses this by adding into SF how Elain is better at secret keeping than even Az. While Elain wasn't given a POV, the Feyre bonus addressed Elain showing teeth, how she might be ready for more, that she may have only been worried about disappointing her sisters all this time, and how they were going to help one sister before helping the other. SF also ended with Nesta placing Elain's rose carving out into the world, almost like a passing of the torch.

By the end of HOFAS, there were no actual threats presented to the ACOTAR characters to deal with. Are there seeds for potential future plots? 100%! But there were also future plots presented to us for Elain and Lucien in ACOWAR, that didn't guarantee them the next book. The end of HOFAS gave us things that Sarah will probably delve into in future books but it did not leave us with anything that needs resolved right this instance, it didn't leave us with anything currently threatening the safety of their world.

In comparison, the Elucien bond has been an outstanding plot since ACOMAF. The Vassa / Koschei storyline has been an outstanding plot since ACOWAR and in SF we're told by Koschei "Tell my Vassa I'm waiting". Tamlin's depression and the downfall of the Spring Court (something we were reminded of in great detail in SF) has been a problem thats needed resolving since ACOWAR and is now even more important because they need an ally in Springs army which they're not currently getting and why they permanently stationed Lucien there. Beron having killed Lucien's lover was introduced in book 1, something we were reminded of twice in SF and now Beron is an even bigger threat as of SF.

Could Az still get the next book? Absolutely! Sarah is going to Sarah and none of us know her long term vision for this series and whether it connects to the new series she has planned.

But to say it's a sure thing that Az is getting the next book? I think there's enough evidence to the contrary to poke holes in that theory. And while I realize Sarah plans to continue writing about these characters until she's 90, that there are so many other characters she'd like to explore (something she said in another interview) which means Feyre is not always going to be at the center of everything, I do think it makes the most sense to have Feyre's arc come full circle by first resolving her sisters storylines. Feyre will always be a bit unsettled for as long as she's left worrying about them. Now that she's seen Nesta find her HEA with Cassian it makes sense that she's not going to know peace until she sees the same for Elain. As much as she likes Az, I don't think she's going to be quite as invested in Gwynriels story the same way she would be in Elain and Lucien. Since we know there's still things for her to address with Lucien (i.e., the knowledge she's had in regards to his real father), I'd think we'd see that all play out in the next book so Feyre can officially retire as the main figurehead of the ACOTAR series, paving the road for the other side characters to take center stage. Especially if Sarah plans on adding in future crossover elements (something that Nesta would most likely be the main contact person on).

[themostsanebug]

a side of cottoncandy (pt.1/3)

Kassandra wiped at her nose, knees tucked to her chest as her make-up began to run due to her tears. God. This was so stupid, what made her think she wasn’t going to get stood up this time? Each time she thought she’d found a nice girl or a decent guy she was back handed with the “Actually, I found someone better than you so I’m going to leave you without further warning!” Hell, it even happened at prom! She really must be clueless.

She choked back more tears, her head hitting the concrete wall behind her. A dull pain spread through her scalp but it’s not like she wasn’t causing something similar anyways. With her fingers tangled in her hair, twisting and tugging. Maybe as a way to ground herself? More likely to be her way of getting something else to focus on.

“Well, what’s a girl like you doing out here?” She gasped, looking up. A warm smile shone down on her, his dark brown eyes glinting playfully. Barley. She quickly wiped at her face once again, hiccuping rather pathetically in the process. Jesus, how much more embarrassing could this get? But, Barley didn’t seem to notice. He just sat down next to her. Waiting for her to speak. His fingers drummed against his knee, their personal indicator that he’d be patient if he needed to. She couldn’t help the small laugh that left her, another sniffle following.

“Just the usual. Y’know, crying on the sidewalk after another failed date attempt? You’ve got to know this by now, B.J. We’ve been friends for two years!” She laughed through the statement, her mind felt less busy. How Barley managed to do that was beyond her understanding. She turned to see his face contort into a frown. It was always weird when he did thar, it didn’t fit who he was.

“You got stood up again, Kass?” She nodded, lips sealed into a thin line to keep another sob from clawing its way out of her throat. Barley simply held his arms open, quickly enveloping her in his embrace. She grabbed onto him like he would turn to dust if she let go, her face buried into his shoulder. She let the tears fall this time. It was just a ritual they had going by now. Kassandra gets stood up, Barley finds her crying somewhere, and promptly swoops to her rescue. She never liked feeling helpless, but with him it didn’t feel like that. With Barley it was just warmth and comfort, the familiarity of his touch getting rid of any feelings of hatred she might’ve had towards being defenseless. He helped with that.

[milfmorrowind]

TES Summerfest 2024: August 12th - breath or forbidden

this work has also been posted to AO3!

@tes-summer-fest

The fire was crackling, fierce and loud, but Ardalie hardly noticed its warmth. Her attention was captivated almost entirely by the small, weathered book in her hands.

“You alright there, friend?” a cautious voice asked from across the fire. Ardalie glanced up and realized Lucien was looking at her rather nervously.

“I’m fine,” she responded, but it came out much shorter than she intended. Lucien did not look the slightest bit convinced, but he was kind enough to not push the matter further. “Thank you for keeping the fire going,” she said, hoping to move the conversation forward.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. So long as you can magic us up a firestarter, I’m perfectly content to keep tending the flames for as long as we travel together,” the scholar said lightly.

Ardalie couldn’t help but smile. When she’d first met Lucien he had found him charming, if occasionally irritating and somehow even wetter between the ears than her. Now, she considered him one of her closest friends. Or possibly her only friend, depending on the day and the quality of her mood. She wondered sometimes if she should try to branch out and meet new people, but her options were rather limited in that regard. The Thalmor had been out for her blood ever since they figured out that it was one of their own who had slaughtered her way through Northwatch Keep, and that alone probably eliminated half the province from any “potential new friends” list she might make. On the other hand, there wasn’t a single Stormcloak who trusted her farther than they could throw her, Jarl Ulfric included. The instructors and students at the College were nice enough, but they were eccentric even by Ardalie’s standards, and seemed more concerned with their studies than companionship anyway. Which left her with a handful of Jarls, a few citizens for whom she’d done a favor or two, and Lucien. She supposed it could be worse.

Ardalie placed the book in her lap to the side as Lucien handed her a bowl of soup from the fire. “Probably best to eat it while it’s hot, so you don’t have to actually taste my cooking,” he quipped.

Ardalie chuckled. “I’m sure it’s fine, Lucien.”

Lucien sniffed at his bowl. “You are sure those herbs were safe to eat, correct? It’s not that I don’t trust you, per se, but I would like to make sure that we are completely, without a doubt, absolutely confident before I put them in my mouth.”

“I’m sure,” Ardalie replied. And she was. She’d received perfect marks on her Tamrielic Flora and Fauna examination.

Lucien took a cautious bite. “Not bad. A bit salty. It would probably be better if it was made with fresh meat rather than jerky.”

“Anytime you want fresh meat, you’re welcome to hunt it yourself,” she said. There wasn’t any venom in the statement. Ardalie just didn’t feel that hunting was a very good use of her time when she could just as easily buy preserved food in town.

“On second thought, I’ll stick to the jerky,” Lucien said with a shudder. Ardalie considered pointing out that at this point he’d fought enough bandits, draugr, and giant spiders to make slaughtering a few bunnies easy work, but decided to let it be.

She returned to her stew. Lucien was right that it was a bit salty, but it really wasn’t all that bad. To be fair, just about any hot meal eaten at camp was starting to taste good to her, but Lucien really was a better cook than he thought. She tried to focus her attention on eating her meal, but her eyes kept wandering over to the book next to her. She did not want to think about that right now, but something about it seemed to compel her to look. She risked one more look at the tome and found herself staring eye to eye with Lucien. She quickly looked away, but it was too late.

“Mind if I take a look?” he asked.

Yes. “No.” She slid the book over to him. He turned it over in his hands, seemingly inspecting the spine, the binding, the rather banal skull painted on the front. Ardalie had to stop herself from reaching out and knocking the book out of Lucien’s hands when he actually turned it over and opened it. To her relief, he only flipped quickly through the pages and did not actually read it.

“Well, it’s very old,” he said, handing it back to her. “And it is most certainly a book of necromancy. I’m amazed it’s in such good shape after gods only know how long in that crypt. Were you planning on reading it?”

Ardalie’s fingers tightened around the edges of the book. “Why do you ask?”

Lucien eyed her carefully. “Well, for one thing, you’ve been fiddling with it ever since we made camp. If you weren’t going to read it I’d have expected you to have packed it away with the other treasure you plan to sell. And for another, well, if you don’t mind me saying, friend, you’re currently hanging onto it like you’re afraid someone is going to rip it out of your hands.”

Ardalie reluctantly loosened her grip. He had a point there. I should be honest with him. She did not want to be honest with him, not about this, but she wasn’t getting anywhere on her own. “I’m not sure if I want to read it,” she finally said. “I’m… weighing my options.”

“How so?”

She set her bowl on the ground. “Growing up, I was trained in every aspect of magic imaginable. I could tell you every theory, every scholar, every potion under the sun. I could name all the great Altmer mages and tell you all of their deeds. But we were barely even allowed to discuss necromancy. We were told that it was the foulest, most dangerous practice, and that even the most learned scholars should think twice before studying it. It wasn’t just forbidden, it was immoral, an affront to the gods. I was determined to be a good little soldier for the Thalmor, and an even better mage, so I took it all to heart.

“But then I came to Skyrim. I saw the things my people were doing in the name of the Dominion, and I was horrified. I began to question everything I knew, everything I’d been taught. Eventually, I realized that it wasn’t enough to leave it all behind. I had to fight back against it. So I summoned daedra, I joined the Stormcloaks, I broke into the embassy. Anything to make them angry, to make them pay.”

“That sounds to me like you want to read it,” Lucien said.

Ardalie pulled her legs up to her chest. “A part of me does. But another part of me sees this book as a line, and once I cross it, I can never go back.”

“Just because you read the book doesn’t mean you have to do anything with what’s inside,” Lucien said softly.

“I know. But once I’ve read it, it’s in my head forever. The door has been opened and can’t be closed. I’ve done the unthinkable, and it will mark me forever.”

Lucien paused for a moment. “That is a difficult decision.”

“It’s impossible.”

Lucien reached over and patted on her shoulder. “Well, you don’t have to make it tonight. We’re still at least a day away from Whiterun, so you couldn’t sell it tomorrow even if you wanted to.”

Ardalie felt herself relax a bit. “That’s a good point.”

Lucien smiled. “I do have good ideas from time to time. I am rather well read. I can hold onto it for you, if you’d like. Just to take the pressure off.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ardalie handed the book over. “Thank you, Lucien,” she said as he carefully placed it in his pack.

“It’s my pleasure, friend.”

[cafeinthemoon]

Feral Heart - Chapter II

Chapter 2/?

Wordcount 1,9k

Title Dinner Time

Fandom Tenkaichi: Nihon Saikyo Bugeisha Ketteisen

Previous chapters Prologue . 1

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ 🖤

Warnings: Reader mistakes Yagyu's gender (it's promptly clarified to her); Nobutada makes a pejorative suggestion about reader's sanity; reader reflects on society's views on the female loss of innocence

Tagging ? (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: I really don't have much to say about this chapter, except that you can expect to see more of reader's past in the next ones, which was just foreshadowed here.

Hope you enjoy 😉

If it was for you to decide, you’d never choose such a crowded place to eat your meals: the shadow of a tree, the wood floor of a balcony or a lake shore would do; places where the fresh air and the sounds of nature would make a good company and where you could just focus on your food’s taste.

But fate wanted you in different places, so there you were, sitting in one of the tables in the middle of the dinning room, surrounded by other girls who couldn’t seem to decide whether they wanted to eat or to chat.

– Yes, I’ve seen it! — one of the girls on the other side of the table (called Chiyo, if you remembered well) was saying — The lake is so beautiful! I hope we find other chances to go there in the near future!

– Me too! Nobunaga-sama surely has an eye for beauty — the girl by her side agreed; they seemed to be the same age and even resembled each other, making you think they were relatives.

If the conversations were about trivial things, you could just ignore them. However, most of your companions were young, so even when that wasn’t your first dinner together and they’ve been talking about it for days, the main subject of the conversations still couldn’t be anything, or anyone else than the individual who was chosen to be your instructor.

A third girl, a bit older than the those two, made a suggestive statement letting it clear that she had different plans for herself, which didn’t include admiring the Shogun’s lake.

– Well, you do as you like. I'd rather keep training with our charming teacher...

Another girl, as excited as her, joined the chatting.

– I confess I’d rather be with him too, Makoto-san!

You frowned at that comment.

Wait… Him?

You raised your head from your plate to observe as the others corroborated with a wave of cheerful compliments and exclamations of “Me too!”

You were still processing what you were hearing when you were suddenly inquired to participate with your opinion.

– Hey, what about you?

You looked around and found out it was Makoto who was talking.

– Uh? Me? – you inclined your head to the side, in doubt.

– Yes! What do you think? – she insisted.

You swallowed.

– About what?

The girls murmured in annoyance, but Makoto did the favor to explain:

– About Yagyu-sama. Don't you agree that he’s such a beautiful man?

You took down your hashi and stuttered. You didn’t misunderstand the girl’s words; still, you couldn’t think of anything else to say as reply but the following words:

– So... Yagyu-sama is not really a woman?

There was an instant of shocked silence, then the entire table exploded in laughter, catching the attentions of all the others around and provoking an irritated look from the old inspector at the doors. One of the girls went to the point of spitting her tea and coughing until thick tears fell through her red cheeks.

Makoto, on the other hand, was astonished with your ignorance.

– You can’t be serious! — she shook her head — You really thought the Peerless Swordsman was a woman?! – she inquired, emphasizing the last syllable of “swordsman”.

– You’re a terrible observer — Chiyo added with a note of pity in her voice.

It wasn’t shame what you felt in face of this: instead, it was genuine confusion, followed by a gradual understanding.

– It's not that I didn’t take time observing him — you explained — It’s just that he has delicate traits, so that I just assumed he was a woman who used a male identity to follow a protocol. You know, they just don’t allow women in some types of works.

Another murmur spread across the table, that time from reflection and doubt.

– That makes sense – another girl whose name you still didn’t know agreed – We only need to think of the peculiarity of our own role here – and, suddenly changing her train of thoughts, – Anyway, you still didn’t tell us what you think about him.

You thought of the question for a little. Yes, you did have some feelings towards him, but they might haven’t been what those girls were expecting. Besides, you didn’t think too much of them, not to the point of being able to make an accurate description of them.

Because of this, you just said the first thing that came to your mind the day you met him.

– Well... I think he’s much stronger than he looks. The type who is strong enough to break a bone with just one hand.

Though this wasn’t indeed what they were expecting, the girls nodded and pondered your words. But you weren’t finished yet.

– Also, there’s another thing in his way that doesn’t match what we see.

The girls stared at you with curiosity.

– Ahn? What are you talking about? – some asked at the same time.

You started stirring the remaining food in your plate with the hashi.

– He always carries a calm expression and speaks softly, but I don’t think he’s such a peaceful person. I think he’s a strange man, and that we should be careful around him.

The girls laughed again.

– You’re just saying weird things to scare us, but we know you like him too! – Makoto teased you – There's no need to hide.

You didn’t reply to that, excluding yourself from the conversation. You weren’t really offended: being young and raised in a small village in the mountains, where most of the inhabitants were common folks, you were more than used to not being taken seriously. You were also aware that, for most of the girls your age and younger, ignoring advice, specially when it comes to charming men, was quite common, almost like a social rule.

However, that was the type of thing that people would consider an innocent, inherit trait of the young, female nature until it led to unexpected, and not so innocent paths.

After what happened to your village, which forced you to survive on the road, trusting none but your instincts until the Shogun’s men found you, you knew better.

***

Somewhere on the other side of Nobunaga’s palace, in a much quieter room, dinner was being served for a smaller group. Well, it’d be more appropriate to say that it was just two people, if the servants weren’t included: two men sharing a table in the middle of the room, kneeling in front of each other.

One of them, a noble with the top of his head shaved and a little butterfly upon his nose, had a distracted look while a cup of green tea was forgotten in his hands. The other one, a younger man whose focus was on his own bowl, enjoyed the food with a soft smile, aware that the scene before him wasn’t but a facade: the man of the butterfly was just absorbing everything around, waiting for the moment to act.

Which soon came in the form of a question.

– Though you try to disguise it – he started, looking directly at the other – You seem happier than ever, Munenori.

Yagyu Munenori, who was indeed content, put his hashi aside and raised his narrow eyes to his speaker.

– It couldn’t be different, Nobutada-sama – he giggled – Even though the work as instructor is not foreign to me, teaching young women has been an interesting and exciting experience, to say the least.

– Do you think so?

– I do. Men and women, they are fundamentally different in some aspects, and it reflects on the way they learn and how they fight. And, sometimes, people manage to blend traits from both sexes to form unique ways to function. In my experience, these ones make the most dangerous warriors.

– Hm...

Oda Nobutada took some time to reply.

– I’m starting to understand my father’s intentions with all of this – a curious glimmer appeared in his eyes – But if I know you well, you’re telling me these things while having a specific person in mind. Is there someone who caught your attention among the girls?

The Shogun’s heir used to ask things to which he already had an answer, more as a way to induce his listener to speak than for any other reason. Yagyu knew that, and for he was actually waiting for a chance to discuss this, he made no efforts to hide his thoughts.

– Indeed. Right on the first meeting with my new students, I was impressed with the variety of personalities and mindsets, and in the following days I’ve found out the most peculiar habits from some of them. This was expected, of course, given we have from daughters of noble families to farm girls among them. Still, there’s this woman about whom I still haven’t a clear opinion, yet I cannot stop thinking about her. During our first encounter, all I could notice was that she wasn’t here for her own will, and that she didn’t like me – a tender smile appeared on his lips – But it was only on the second day that we had our first contact.

– And how was it?

– I was walking outside this building where we are now, when I saw her alone, crouching on the grass, looking inside the gap between the soil and the balcony’s floor. At first, I thought she lost a belonging in the gap and was trying to recover it or that she saw an animal sneaking inside it... but she did the last thing I’d expect: she laid on her back and continued to stare at the gap as if she wanted to sleep there.

Nobutada raised an eyebrow in genuine diversion.

– Really?

– I just had to approach and ask what she was doing – Yagyu continued – When I stopped in front of her, she had her eyes closed, but soon she opened them, as if sensing my arrival. Instead of being ashamed or trying to stand up, she stood on her place, staring at me like I was an intruder. I understood that she wasn’t going to say a word and started a conversation myself, asking if she was okay. She promptly said “Yes”. Then I asked what she was doing there, and she gave me the strangest answer.

– And what was it?

– She said “I wonder if someone could sleep under this floor. I’m sure I could, but I have my doubts about you, Yagyu-sama. Your skin seems too soft for that”. I thought of telling her that I’ve slept in surfaces rougher than grass all for years, but instead I just asked why someone would sleep in such a curious place, and she replied “We never know” – Yagyu smiled – It was when I accepted my defeat and decided it was time to go. I said that I hoped none of us would have to sleep in such a place and left her with her little experiment. I looked back when I was some meters away from her and saw her eyes closed again, as if nothing happened. Now, tell me what do you think of this, Nobutada-sama.

Nobutaga let out a low laugh.

– Yes, such a strange episode, this one, and very funny. But are you sure she’s not a bit... – he poked at his own temple with his index finger.

That was Yagyu’s time to laugh.

– Oh, no, she’s perfectly healthy. And that’s why I’m intrigued. What kind of things would lead a normal girl to consider the possibility of sleeping under the balcony? What kind of strange situation she’s expecting to happen?

Nobutada shrugged.

– I have no idea, but women are just like this. Always expecting strange things to happen. Whatever the case, I’m satisfied that we have someone like her here – he brought the cup to his lips, then giggled – Such eccentricities can be very useful in my father’s service.

Nothing more was said after this, and the dinner continued, as peaceful as when it started.

Chapter 3

[arklay]

seeing stars.

pairing: diana x albert wesker words: 7.0k warnings: migraine, nausea and vertigo, brief mentions of food and alcohol, internalised ableism [read on ao3] — [part one]

A long exhale sounded from the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t one of relief. No, it was strained, wavering as it left parted lips – the evidence of a day riddled with nothing but stress.

Wesker slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the mirror from how he had hung his head, his hands resting on either side of the basin. The figure behind his reflection caught his eye instantly – dark hair a stark contrast to the white doorframe its lovely owner was leaning against. She was simply watching him with this faint, barely-there frown strewn about her features.

Despite being rather annoyed at Diana for sneaking up on him, or more so at himself for not noticing she had done so, he was glad she had kicked off her heels under the dining table. The last thing he needed right now was the shrill clicking of those awful things on the tile floor.

His head already felt like it had been put in a vise and someone was turning the handle; he didn’t need more noise to aggravate it.

“Where are your glasses?” Diana asked, and Wesker could only wonder if he’d imagined the worry clinging to the edge of her voice.

Could she tell he was in pain? That his sunglasses weren’t just some fashion statement people liked to tease him for? Had she put two and two together so easily when most were too dense to?

Wesker’s eyes darted up to lock on to hers in the mirror, though for only a split second, before he looked down again with a small huff. “I don’t know.”

He’d truly had a shocking day. It had been one thing after another, and at some point he had taken his glasses off to rub his eyes then forgot to put them back on. It wasn’t like him to misplace his belongings, and certainly not his shades, of all things, but the stressors piling up ensured the whereabouts of where he’d set them down slipped his mind faster than he thought possible.

It had all started with that pig, Brian Irons. The initial cause of his foul mood. That poor excuse of a man had proven himself to be a thorn in Wesker’s side time and time again; the police chief thought he could undermine those ensuring his unsavoury past was kept under wraps, but Wesker wasn’t going to stand for such insolent behaviour. He made sure to discuss the issue with William during his visit to the NEST around lunchtime, calling for a shorter leash.

However, the day only seemed to continue to go downhill once he’d returned to the station.

The problem wasn’t simply the piles of reports taking up space on his desk; the image of Diana wouldn’t leave his mind. He shouldn’t have stopped by her lab with coffee and spoken to her at all. He needed his focus to be solely on his work. The way she could capture his attention was quite bothersome, really. And that prompted a rather foolish decision on his part – a phone call with plans for dinner.

It didn’t end there. The newest S.T.A.R.S. recruits were a headache in and of themselves, yet getting a call from Sherry’s school the moment he left work had been the icing on the cake. She hadn’t been picked up hours beforehand, and being the next emergency contact, Wesker was informed of such incompetence.

William’s obsession with the G-Virus was getting out of hand. He’d always been more preoccupied with his work than the people around him, but forgetting to pick Sherry up from school was something else. Something Wesker didn’t quite like.

Not to mention it completely ruined his plans for the night.

With a suppressed clearing of her throat, Diana pulled him back to the present. She pushed herself off of the doorframe and made her way closer towards him. “Would you like me to look for them?”

Wesker shook his head and immediately regretted it; the sudden movement made him wince as a short wave of splitting pain made itself known right behind his left eye, causing him to grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles went white. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, and he was glad his typical nausea seemed to be at bay, but he had no clue how long that would last. Not long, if he had to guess, given his luck with the rest of the day’s events.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, he steadied himself. With each count, he found it easier to tolerate the ache, though it didn’t subside in the slightest. It would have to do though; he needed to get through his nighttime routine.

He reached over and slowly pulled his toothbrush out of its holder, making sure to not move more than what was necessary.

“No.”

Wesker glanced up at the mirror again with one of his brows quirked in genuine confusion, and he watched as Diana’s reflection inched closer. Then her hands were covering his. Why he found himself frozen at her touch was beyond him, but her soft fingers pressing against his skin was a welcome sensation.

She only pried the toothbrush and paste out of his grasp, far more gently than she needed to, then she placed them back to where they belonged.

“You are obviously unwell. You don’t need to brush your teeth when you feel like this,” she said, voice soft and oddly soothing, as opposed to the hammering against his skull.

Diana took Wesker’s hands in her own again, and her thumbs brushed along the raised veins on the backs of them in slow circles. It wasn’t just comforting to him, it was familiar, intimate, and the point at which he’d begun to embrace her touch rather than shun his craving for it was lost on him.

Her eyes finally landed on his own and she directed a small nod towards the door, making him aware of what she was about to do next. Then she took a step back. Then another. And she carefully pulled him along with her, guiding him towards his bedroom without so much as a word from him. Wesker couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. He didn’t know what to say, what to do, and with how tired he was, he could only let her take the lead. She seemed to have her mind set on making sure he would rest, and that made his chest feel much too tight.

It was almost as if she cared.

The trip to the foot of his bed felt much longer than usual. Diana’s cautious approach made sure of that. He was not intoxicated; she didn’t need to hold his hands and ensure he put one foot in front of the other. And yet she did. He felt like an absolute fool, but he still let her pull him along, regardless.

Once there, Diana sat him down on the edge before she quickly knelt down in front of him, tucking her legs beneath herself as she did so. Her attention went straight towards his boots and deft hands worked to untie their laces.

Wesker couldn’t quite wrap his head around her behaviour. He wasn't sure what to think. On any other day, he would’ve thought her kneeling between his legs quite amusing, especially with how she kept roughly pushing her stubborn tresses that kept falling in front of her face back behind her ears. But his head hurt far too much, and there was just this horrible warmth searing through his chest and up his neck, settling across his cheeks and threatening to join the burning at his temple.

The question in her eyes whenever she’d glance up at him certainly wasn’t helping either. It was almost wary, as though looking for permission to continue. Or perhaps assurance.

Her fingers wrapped around his ankle, carefully grasping it as she pulled off his boot. That made him feel far too odd, but she only repeated the action with its counterpart. He was thankful for the way she placed them next to one another by his bed though, all nice and neat, instead of simply tossing them to the side like anyone else would.

Diana pushed herself up off of the floor using her palms and moved to stand between his legs. Soft hands reached forward to cradle his face, the cool pads of her thumbs brushing along the high points of his cheeks. But she was only looking into his eyes, searching for… something.

He wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, to be completely honest. However, the repetitive movement along his cheekbones was calming, almost strangely so, and he hated that his eyes threatened to flutter shut and his hands itched to reach out and hold onto her sides – perhaps even pull her closer, if he dared.

How could she draw such a reaction from him? Especially given the circumstances.

The last thing Wesker needed was for her to look at him like he was some injured animal; he didn’t want her pity. It was enough that he let her drag him out of the bathroom when he was in the middle of carrying out his routines, as though he was caught in some sort of trance. But to look at him in such a way, to help him undress… It was ridiculous. He didn’t need to be fussed over.

Wesker reached up and closed his hands around her wrists. His grip was tight, though not enough to hurt her – merely cautionary, much like the glare he sent her way. Astute as she was, he had no doubt she would get the message.

Diana’s fingers fell away from his cheeks, curling in on themselves, but she didn’t move to break the distance between them. She only continued to hold his gaze, eyes still scanning his own in search of some answers, even as he loosened his hold on her wrists.

It had been wishful thinking, anyhow; he should’ve known she’d remain defiant.

Wesker pulled her hands further away from his face while he slowly rose to his feet. Then he let go, making them drop to her sides in a rather lifeless fashion. He didn’t miss the question in her eyes, or the way a crease formed between her brows, but he simply focused on manoeuvring around her towards his dresser – unsuccessfully at that, as his side brushed against hers with how he staggered.

Movement made the pain behind his eye considerably worse. The familiar sensation of tiny knives stabbing, leaving puncture wounds in their wake to obscure his vision, made it incredibly hard to keep his eyes open any longer. Wesker took a deep breath to try and steady himself, keeping as still as could be so as to not cause himself more pain. If only for a moment of relief.

One of his hands settled on the surface of the dresser while the other moved to open a drawer. He hoped Diana didn’t see how he fumbled with the pull handle. He wasn’t even sure why that bothered him. But he moved to correct his error far too quickly, causing him to lose balance slightly.

The sight of plain black, white and grey t-shirts folded up and sorted by tone brought some level of structure back to the chaos that had been Wesker’s day, and it pleased him more than it probably should have. The shirts were simply for when he was too cold to sleep shirtless – he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them casually, otherwise – and he removed one from its designated place for himself, and one for Diana.

The next drawer he opened contained his pyjama pants, all monochromatic and devoid of patterns, akin to his shirts. Just the way he liked. There were a couple of blue pairs though. Not like that mattered; he chose black, as usual.

A tired sigh left him then.

“Diana.” The sound of her footsteps crossing the distance between them seemed to reach him later than when they’d occurred, because she was already standing at his side. Wesker simply handed her the t-shirt he’d chosen for her, then he spoke again without looking her way, “Would you like pants?”

Diana chuckled at that, and the corner of his lips twitched. He treasured that sound. Well and truly treasured it.

“I doubt anything will fit me,” she whispered, the smile in her voice telling him she was trying to subdue her laugh.

“You have long legs.”

She let out a low, sweet hum at his dry response and positioned herself behind him, lifting her chin to rest it on his shoulder as she watched his hands comb through the pairs of pants in the drawer below. It was clear to Diana that he wouldn’t find anything that would fit her, considering she was barely two thirds the width of him, but she let him figure that out for himself. Instead, her hands ran down his sides and towards his hips. She stood on tiptoe to press a lingering kiss to his cheek while one of her hands travelled between them.

“Doesn’t change that you have more hips than I do,” Diana said between another kiss, tone playful, while her hand squeezed a handful of his firm backside.

Wesker reached behind himself and swatted her hand away, but he couldn’t stop the slight chuckle that bubbled up in his throat before it escaped him – one that mirrored her own. Her arms changing position, wrapping around his waist with her chin settling against his shoulder once more, was not what he expected in response, however. The feeling that brought up inside of him was not something he wished to confront tonight.

He needed to place more distance between them.

“Drawstrings.” Wesker held up a pair of pants that could be tightened at the waist, negating her claims that there couldn’t possibly be anything of his that may stay up for her.

Diana held back another sigh as she loosened her arms and plucked the pants from his grasp. Their short moment of joking around certainly didn’t last long, but she wasn’t sure why she even expected it to. It wasn’t the time or place, but she simply didn’t know how to deal with the situation at hand; it was always difficult for her to navigate when someone wasn’t feeling well.

On the other hand, Wesker was none the wiser to Diana’s inner turmoil. He only withdrew from her slack embrace and returned to where he’d been sitting at the end of the bed earlier, entirely focused on ridding himself of the rest of his work clothes. Without her interference.

Nothing seemed to be in his favour today though, because the moment his hips met the bed the entire room began to spin. It wasn’t like he had sat down too fast – or maybe he had finally lost his bearings – but the way the room was warping around him with stars dancing across his vision caused him to squeeze his eyes shut. His teeth ground together of their own accord and he cursed himself for it as that only amplified the pain at his temple.

All Wesker could do was turn his attention towards the buttons of his shirt, trying to ground himself as best he could by focusing on the feeling of one beneath his fingertips. The way the edges pressed against his skin as he pushed the button through its assigned opening felt so much sharper than usual. And it didn’t help that he fumbled on the first go.

“Let me help you.”

The almost desperate plea from the voice across the room couldn’t have come from Diana. Surely. Not even the distinct accent and low, gravelly quality of it could convince him; she had never done such a thing, never sounded like that, even when he’d reduced her to ruins in bed.

The Diana he knew wasn’t so willing to offer assistance.

Wesker scoffed, perhaps a bit too harsh judging by the frown he received, and only roughly unfastened the next button on his shirt. “I do not need your help.”

Oh, how he wished that were true.

The bile burning the back of his throat begged to differ. And it was getting increasingly difficult to just keep his eyes open, like his lids were being weighed down by some invisible force.

The soft sound of a zipper made Wesker glance over to where Diana stood, only to watch as her skirt pooled around her feet. His hands paused what they were doing as his eyes lazily wandered over her, mesmerised by the way she was carefully rolling her tights down her long legs. It wasn’t until she moved on to her shirt and made quick work of the overpriced garment that he shook himself free of her spell. To say she was stunning was frustratingly accurate.

She stripped down to nothing but her panties before pulling his massive t-shirt over her tiny frame, adjusting her hair the minute it was over her head. That shouldn’t have made him smile to himself. The thought that she was cute shouldn’t have even crossed his mind in the first place.

It wasn’t that long ago when he’d considered her vain for constantly worrying about her appearance, and the first time she had worn one of his shirts he had thought she looked absolutely ridiculous – comical, even. It was only endearing now. He chose not to look too close into that change, convincing himself that the pain he was in was simply making him delirious.

Fuck, he just wanted to go to sleep. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to close this day and reset in the morning.

Despite struggling with each one, Wesker managed to finish undoing the buttons of his shirt and he weakly shrugged it off of his shoulders. It went no further than that, however, even with another attempt. The motion only made his stomach lurch, like waves roiling at sea.

A defeated sigh left him at that, but he was too tired to fight it. He must have made for a pathetic sight, one he wished there was no one present to witness.

That would’ve been grand, if he was so fortunate. Diana was standing in front of him again after dropping the pants in her grasp and crossing the distance in only a few quick strides. Before he could protest once more, she reached forward and laid her hands flat against his shoulders; cold fingers dipped beneath material, causing a shiver to run through his entire body, before she gently pushed the sleeves down his arms. It was unnecessary, but Diana held his forearm as she pulled the sleeve off by grasping the cuff, making sure to not turn his shirt inside-out.

He’d kiss her for that if his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode at any minute.

As soon as she freed him of his undershirt with the same meticulous care, Diana returned to what she had started earlier, before Wesker had stopped her. This time around he wasn’t nearly as tense when she took his face in her hands. In fact, it was the most at ease he had felt all day.

The chill of her palms provided some relief to the burning beneath his skin and the stabbing behind his eye. Even if it was only for a moment – until his cheeks warmed her hands and ripped that pleasant sensation away from him.

The only difference from when they’d found themselves in this position earlier was that Diana now leaned down to place a brief kiss on his lips. Wesker expected some level of warmth in her gaze once she pulled away, but he was only met with the look someone would have when scolding a child who had just hurt themselves on the playground.

If she was insinuating that he was being childish, they’d have a whole other problem on their hands.

Diana readjusted her hold to cradle his face in a more secure manner, fingers pressing firm against his skin. “I know you don’t want my help, but I will not see you make yourself sick because you are too stubborn to let someone look after you.”

Wesker glared up at her. Well, he hoped it was a glare, because whatever left him was all that he could muster in his state. From the way one of Diana’s brows raised, he sure did something, even if he had no idea if it was what he had intended.

They simply looked into one another’s eyes, holding the steady gaze for far too long – a familiar occurrence that usually took place when she challenged him. He supposed it was the other way around this time. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her help, it was that he didn’t want anyone’s. He thought himself above that, and he had managed being in this position countless times before. Even if on some of those days he had gone to sleep without being able to change his clothes.

Perhaps he needed some help.

“Fine.” Wesker relented with a long blink, and allowed himself to settle against her touch and relax some more.

That earned him a faint smile from Diana before she leaned in again. His eyes fluttered shut out of habit, but her lips didn’t connect with his own. Instead, they landed on his forehead, and his moment of ease faded away instantly, his hands balling into fists at his sides the longer she lingered there.

The pit in his stomach seemed to lessen when she withdrew and dropped to her knees again. But his head felt absurdly heavy without her hands holding it up. There was too much running through his mind, it was getting overwhelming. And it wasn’t just the hammering at the side of his skull. He wanted her but he tensed up at her touch, he needed her but he hated her assistance, he… He shouldn’t have invited her over tonight.

What had he been thinking?

Slender fingers curling into the waistband of his pants pulled Wesker from his thoughts, and he looked down at Diana, who had glanced up at the same time with that question in her eyes once more, asking if it was alright to continue. He simply nodded and she focused her attention back to what she was doing; he even lifted his hips to allow her to pull his pants off. Whenever she had dealt with the button and zipper eluded him.

He despised that – the feeling that he was no longer in control, losing his vigilance as the pain distracted him too much. It wasn’t just that though, the woman before him also played a part in causing his dazed state.

It was strange. Wesker couldn’t recall ever having a lover treat him like this. She wasn’t telling him that he was going to be okay, that she was there for him, or any of that superficial nonsense. She was just assisting him, doing whatever needed to be done so that he would be comfortable enough to hopefully get some sleep. It brought about another dreadful sensation to the mix already pestering him.

He lifted a hand and placed it over Diana’s when she reached for the t-shirt he had haphazardly dropped on the bed when the vertigo had hit him. She only looked down at his large hand enveloping hers for a moment, seeming to be the one stunned now. Then her eyes finally darted up to his face, and the steely determination in them from before melted away into that look that unsettled him far more.

“I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?” she asked, a slight trace of a chuckle clinging to the edge of it, as though she was almost embarrassed by her behaviour.

Wesker let out what was probably supposed to be a laugh in response, but little more than an exhale came out. “No.”

He paused as his next words died on his tongue. Or more accurately, they didn’t seem to want to leave his throat and even get that far. Diana was none the wiser and just rose to her feet, hand slipping free of his own and taking the t-shirt with it. Wesker chewed on the inside of his cheek for but a fraction of a second before he swallowed his pride.

A sharp inhale, then he lifted his head to look up at her. “Thank you.”

The genuine smile that crossed Diana’s face made him feel far too warm, like the sun was bearing down on his skin and reaching the deepest parts of him; it wasn’t quite a grin, teeth staying hidden, but the corners of her eyes crinkled and the indents on her cheeks deepened somewhat. She didn’t give him much of a chance to admire it though, too preoccupied with making sure she didn’t move him around too much as she carefully pulled the shirt over his head and helped each of his arms into the sleeves.

“I take it you have photophobia,” she said matter-of-factly. It was almost too clinical-sounding for Wesker’s liking, odd as that may seem. The term alone just left a bad taste in his mouth.

It was sort of his own fault, which he didn’t like owning up to. He’d always had trouble with his sensitivity to bright lights, but he was only meant to wear the tinted glasses Umbrella prescribed him when in the lab or outside. It had been the relief he felt without a migraine clawing at his senses that made him forget he was wearing them at all, and in turn, that developed into a habit of leaving them on for nearly all waking hours. His eyes adjusted to the conditions and it only worsened his sensitivity when he was without his sunglasses.

What he wouldn’t give to have his youthful eyes back.

When Wesker didn’t respond to her, Diana gently cupped his cheek. He tried to meet her gaze, but her eyes were focused just below, where her thumb was brushing across the dark circle marring his skin. Another thing he wished he could reverse time to prevent.

As useful as her help was, Wesker couldn’t understand why she was doing this, why she was being so… kind. So tender. She wasn’t a nurturer, or the type to worry about others. Maybe she did actually care for him, more than she let on. That didn’t feel right though – it just left him profoundly uncomfortable. His mind had to be playing tricks on him with how exhausted he was. That was the only reasonable explanation.

Diana’s thumb paused its repetitive motion and she simply held her hand in place. It was just for another second or two, but her touch lingered well after she departed, leaving a pleasant tingle across his skin.

The last obstacle in the way of Wesker being able to just collapse into bed and hope that his migraine was gone by the morning was the pair of pyjama pants Diana was bunching up so she could help him change into them easily. His tired limbs seemed to move on their own, slipping into each pant leg with little input from him, but the moment he lifted his hips as she tugged the fabric over them, another surge of intense pain hit him, causing him to keel over.

It felt as though his head was being split in two, torn apart from the inside out. He could have sworn the eye taking the brunt of the pressure was going to pop out of its socket at any minute. The only thing he could do was rest his head in his hands and endure it, pressing his thumbs down on the innermost part of his brows in hopes to alleviate some of the pain.

Diana shuffled closer and reached forward to place her hands on his thighs. They only ran up and down the sides of them in a gentle, reassuring motion while her mind scrambled to recall the locations of where she’d seen every thing that could possibly aid him in his house.

Her brain was being just as helpful as his was, because she drew a blank, too taken aback by the sight in front of her. The intimidating Albert Wesker slumped over in pain – that was something she thought she’d never see. He always seemed so… invincible. Nothing could tear down his powerful image and break through his composed demeanour this easily, and she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“Albert?” Diana’s voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear it, but his name always sounded so much nicer spilling from her lips compared to anyone else’s. “Do you need a bucket? Or…” She paused for a second then let out a frustrated huff. “Where do you keep your painkillers?”

“They don’t work,” Wesker grumbled.

Of course they don’t, she thought. That would’ve been too easy.

Or he was being overdramatic. So, she pressed on. “Not even a little bit?”

The crease between his brows only deepened, and he squeezed his eyes shut. So, that was a definitive no.

Diana pursed her lips as she tried to think of what else she could do for him. She wasn’t familiar with actually dealing with a migraine, even if she knew all of the treatments on paper; she was fortunate enough to never get them, and she couldn’t remember the last time someone around her had. She could list off every over-the-counter painkiller and triptan that was used to specifically target a migraine, but that would do her no good. She didn’t know what worked for him.

There had to be something though. Diana moved to stand and go take a look at what was in the medicine cabinet in his bathroom, but Wesker fumbled to take her hand in his own.

That made her freeze on the spot.

She had no doubt he was cursing himself for doing such a thing, for how it almost seemed to be a reflex more than a conscious decision. Or perhaps he just needed something solid to hold on to. Whichever it was, Diana didn’t care, so long as it helped. Even if the way he was gripping her hand hurt like hell; she’d been through far worse, so the possibility of a broken bone was something she would simply bear.

“Here,” she whispered while carefully pulling Wesker up to stand a moment after she did so herself. He stumbled on his feet when upright, but Diana was there – the pillar to hold him up and save him from toppling over.

The arm not reaching for his – right hand clasping his own – was wrapped around his back. It served to keep him stable as she slowly guided him over to what she had long since been acquainted with as his preferred side of the bed. This whole ordeal would’ve been much easier if he wasn’t leaning his entire body weight against her, but at least the trip wasn’t too lengthy.

Their hands only parted when Diana let go to lean forward and pull back the covers for him. Wesker really hoped she didn’t see how his fingers extended on instinct, as if to chase her touch. It was utterly pathetic. The urge to hold her was getting increasingly annoying, and he wished his body would just try to not embarrass him for once.

He couldn’t exactly exert much control over his innate reactions in his condition, but if Diana noticed, she didn’t say anything. That was one positive, he supposed.

And the fact that he managed to sit on the bed on his own without dragging her down with him. That probably would’ve earned him a bony shoulder digging into his chest, and that would just make matters worse.

Diana didn’t have to, but she went so far as to help him lie down as well. In a way that wouldn’t make his head feel as though someone had taken a hammer to it, that is. All slow movements and firm but gentle touches, manipulating his limbs for him as they felt too heavy for him to move on his own. And when she was done, one of her hands reached up to smooth back his hair.

That brought about that dreadful flutter in the pit of Wesker’s stomach. Or maybe that was the nausea. He couldn’t tell at this point.

Weary eyes tried their hardest to stay trained on the figure lingering in front of them. But they were unsuccessful. Wesker couldn’t keep them open any longer, not when everything was spinning around like this. He couldn’t even make out what the expression strewn about Diana’s features was.

It didn’t even matter, because her comforting touch left him before the sound of her feet padding across the floor reached his ears – quickly, like she was in some rush. Unnecessary, Wesker thought. He wasn’t exactly going anywhere, lying there in agony.

He didn’t think it would get this bad. It had been so long since he’d had a migraine like this. The nausea, visual disturbances, and all of that nonsense was typical for him, but the vertigo would come and go. Every time it showed itself he was caught off guard; there was no getting used to the feeling of his body swaying back and forth when he was lying perfectly still.

That wasn’t even the worst of his problems.

His mind decided it wanted to be louder than the rhythmic pulse behind his eye, yelling at him to the point where his thoughts felt like they were what was causing his pain by bouncing around and colliding with his skull.

Weak. Pitiful. Unacceptable. Over and over again.

How could he let someone see him like this?

Not just someone, but her, of all people. The woman who would roll her eyes when one of the researchers called off work, the one who boasted about never getting sick, the one who carried herself like nothing could strike her down. Just like he did. And yet here he was, reduced to rubble by a bit of pain.

That’s what was confusing Wesker. Why was Diana being so considerate of his plight? He had no doubt she’d rather be at the lab, or really anywhere else, doing something worthwhile instead of this. She should just leave, honestly. There was no reason for her to stick around; it wasn’t like she felt anything more for him beyond fellowship. Sherry was wrong in her assumption; Diana wasn’t his partner.

She may have been his, but he certainly wasn’t hers. No, she just enjoyed toying with him.

Now was not the time to fall into thinking about that rubbish again. He should’ve never asked her if she wished to stay the night. Or invited her over for dinner in the first place, for that matter.

“Alright.”

That pulled Wesker out of his head. It may have only been low, simply a hurried mumble under one’s breath, but that entrancing voice was unmistakable to him. His little pity party hadn’t lasted long – privacy breached once more as Diana returned from whatever she had been doing. He really did despise that she was witnessing him in this state; this wasn’t how he wished for her to find out he suffered from migraines.

With her hands full, Diana crossed his room with the stride of someone on a mission – full of purpose. First, she placed a glass of water down on his nightstand, then she used her now free hand to pull the bucket she’d found in the laundry out from under her other arm, where it was sitting awkwardly and digging into her side. 

Once she set it down beside the bed, she crouched in front of Wesker and placed the ice pack she’d wrapped in a tea towel in one of his hands, which he lifted to his forehead immediately. Diana had no idea if that would help him or not, actually. She preferred heat for pain relief; being sensitive to the cold always made her recovery with injuries from ballet growing up a horrid experience. Maybe she should have looked to see if he had a heat pack instead. That would help alleviate the tension in his neck and shoulders.

No. She had what she needed, she wasn’t going to run around and make an even bigger fuss. It would probably make him feel worse, anyhow.

The only thing left to do was close the curtains and block out any light that threatened to seep into his room, whether that be from the street lamps illuminating the suburb or the bright moon itself. The significance of his blackout curtains now made much more sense to her.

When she stood to round the bed, Diana had no idea why she took the hand by his hip in her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her thumb even brushed across the back of it for a second. There was just this odd need to show him that she was there, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Even as she pulled the curtains shut, the thought didn’t leave her mind.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

Taking care to not make the mattress dip too much, Diana climbed into bed next to Wesker. The last thing she wished was for her getting comfortable to cause him any undue pain because it jostled him about. It was only then, when the covers brushed across her bare legs, that she realised she was only wearing his shirt – the pyjama pants he’d chosen for her long forgotten somewhere to the darkness.

Wesker decided to be rather ungrateful for her cautious approach, as he moved on his own. Diana couldn’t help how her eyes wandered over him, taking in every detail she could as he began to slowly roll over; his brows were knit together, deepening the lines between them, his lips were pulled down in a frown, and his eyes were screwed shut. It was rather obvious to her that he was trying to not bring up all of his dinner, and that sent her heart plummeting down into her stomach. What he was going through really sunk in then.

She wished she could just take the pain away, make it all disappear and guarantee it would never return.

It was an awful feeling, watching the man who had only ever given her these tiny glimpses of vulnerability do what looked to be such a practised motion, as though he had a tried-and-true method for dealing with his nausea for so long.

She felt helpless. But why did she even care? Countless lovers had come and gone, not ever leaving an imprint on her heart, but he seemed to tug at every string.

A loud thump, immediately followed by a rather feeble sound, pulled Diana from her thoughts. It wasn’t quite a groan, but not nearly a whimper either, and she never thought she’d hear such a sound come from Wesker.

While turning, the ice pack had fallen free of his weak grasp and landed on the floor, causing the disturbance. Diana opened her mouth to speak, to ask him if he wanted her to pick it up for him, but she didn’t get a chance; he curled up against her side all of a sudden, resting his head on her chest. That was something she wasn’t prepared for. He had never done that before, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the way her heart sped up at the act.

Diana kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not daring to look down at him while her arm hesitated to wrap around his back. What was she even supposed to do? This was all new territory for her, for them, and… it was overwhelming. She didn’t know what to think; there was just this massive weight that had been dropped onto her chest. And it wasn’t Wesker, or the way he slung his arm over her waist.

It was that somehow, despite everything, he had managed to worm his way past all of her defences and make her actually care for him.

But friends do care for one another, yes? That is a fact. And it’s not like their dates meant anything; she had gone on many with casual partners in the past, and they were merely a formality. The longing she felt for him was nothing beyond physical.

The arm around her tightened its hold on her side, pulling her closer, and Diana looked down just in time to see a grimace twist Wesker’s features before he turned his head to rest his brow against her breastbone. Whatever he grumbled as he did so, Diana couldn’t quite make out what it was.

She chewed on her lip while bringing a hand up to the back of his head, gently cradling it and holding him close. She found herself hesitating again, unsure of the implications of her touch – how it could be perceived. But the urge grew too strong soon enough. Whatever was going on between them was just that, and she wasn’t going to complicate matters by overanalysing it.

Her fingers ran through his hair, pressing firm against his scalp in somewhat of a massage. Diana absolutely hated the feeling of pomade residue on her fingers, but seeing the way his shoulders relaxed eased her disgust, if only slightly. She’d just have to deal with the waxy feeling on her skin, she supposed. It was a selfish thought but she wished he’d at least managed to rinse out his hair. She knew he hated it as well, though; his routines were always so important to him.

Wesker let out a long exhale and Diana paused the motion, unsure if what she was doing was actually making matters worse. He didn’t say anything, but the way he held her closer while his legs tangled with her own made her stomach flip, as though she was the one who was going to be sick.

The arm around his back held him firm as she leaned in to press a kiss to the top of his head. She never wanted him to go through this again, and she would find a way to ensure that.

For now though, she made a note to have a look for his glasses first thing tomorrow, before he woke.

[valleyofthemachinegods]

lana / kaja - courting

ty for sending this in! c: @darth-caillic

"I hate this planet," Kaja's umpeenth uttering does little to impress Lana, who by now is quite certain that the greatest skill the Zesion Sha warrior possesses might be complaining. It isn't untrue-- they who have accustomed themself to the galaxy bending to their will may have become a bit of a prat when the going gets tough. At least, when it comes to terrain that hardly agrees with them.

The dress and heels probably don't help, though Lana deigns to keep that thought to herself.

"I find it rather pleasant," she replies, knowing the other is unable to see the smile that plays at her lips.

Something mumbled in not-quite-Cheunh flutters from Kaja, likely a curse, and likely a creative one despite the fact that the warrior swears to have banished all of their past, including a hand-me-down mother tongue.

Lana finds it endearing, in the strangest of ways.

When they're both on level ground, for a bit, Kaja's mood always tapers to something that could be called pleasant-- in the correct language. Here they seem to own the landscape, marching forward with all the prowess of a native Rishii. It's a metamorphosis that Kaja had mastered years ago, the ability to blend in, to adapt, to survive. Unfortunately, it doesn't always translate to climbing.

"You don't need to laugh every time I struggle to climb up a steep hill," they quip, and not without a warmth in the syllables that belays their previous vexation. "It can't be that amusing."

"Oh, but it is," Lana insists, expertly barring any hint of levity from seeping into her own words. "Perhaps it is unfair of me to simply watch you struggle."

"You'd never lower yourself," they laugh, teasing, quickly and quietly, with a hint of humor that only they seem to have found in the statement.

Lana merely hums in response, contemplating the oddity that is her counterpart. Still, she is not above accepting a challenge-- and that's certainly what's been offered, along with something more that neither of them are quite ready to consider-- and contemplates it while they move through the jungle.

--When they get to the next clearing, Lana jumps down first from a small pile of stones, a steep decline to the next level of the ground. She pauses then, causing Kaja to falter in their own stead, raising a brow in question. Reaching up, the hand placed gently at the small of their back is the answer, the other outstretched for the warrior to grab. A moment ticks by before the mighty Zesion Sha gets a clue, a rapid lightening of their cheeks hidden with a grin. They grab Lana's hand and allow her help over the stones.

Kaja can't help but feel the silence that lingers just as long as their fingertips do, just before they pull away, chasing away whatever feeling it is that rises in the pit of their being. Describing it as more than just a fleeting thing is dangerous, and there are far more important issues to focus on. They offer a "thank you" in the gesture of a head bowed before trudging forward, too quick and too stubborn to discern Lana's expression.

Yet, the breath they hadn't realized was simmering still in aching lungs is released far too late.

[ohlawsons]

ever bittersweet, ch. 01 | dani/herald/ortega, 2495 words post-retribution recovery, ft. the trio trying to figure out if/how things can work

“So.”

The word is sharp, quick, a damning punctuation to its own statement. There’s no follow up from Julia, not right away — just a harrowing silence filled only by the quick, methodical strikes of a knife against a cutting board. Daniel, for his part, has done an admirable job of lounging on the sofa, flipping through channels on the tv, acting like this isn’t potentially the most awkward position he’s been in since… well, in a while — Dani’s still asleep in his bedroom, and Julia’s taken over the kitchen, and Daniel’s just trying not to suffocate under the weight of her care and concern for Dani.

Not that he minds. Quite the opposite, in fact, but it leaves him feeling a bit useless in his own home.

Still, he’d learned very quickly not to argue when Julia had shown up with an armful of groceries and declared she was cooking dinner for Dani. This is the third time this week alone, and he’s beginning to gather that sharing a meal like this means something more to Julia — or, at least, it does when it comes to Dani. She keeps telling him that they used to do this all the time, dinner at Ortega’s place, and she mentions Anathema a few times and Sentinel once, but the stories all revolve around Dani, all tinged with a warmth and familiarity and history that he knows he can’t match.

(She keeps saying it was easier to cook for them, before, but there’s an aftertaste of it was easier to love them, before, and Daniel pretends not to notice.)

“Sorry, did you say something, Julia?” He drags his focus from the screen, glancing back over one shoulder to where she’s still chopping vegetables in the kitchen; the question is meant as a mercy, a kindness, because he can tell there’s something heavy and uncomfortable meant to follow that one little ‘so,’ and this way she has an out if she decides she’s not ready to broach the topic.

“Yeah.” A pause as she scoops the diced onion into a pan, frowning down as it begins to sizzle. “Would you mind grabbing me a beer? I’ll restock you next time I drop by, promise.” She meets his eyes for what might be the first time all evening, flashing him an easy, charming grin before turning to wash her hands.

He’s happy to comply, and clicks the tv off before standing; it’s the least he can do, given that Julia won’t let him help out in his own kitchen — she doesn’t say it outright, but he can sense that it’s supposed to be Dani’s job, always has been — and it gives him a chance, too, to expend some of his anxious, nervous energy that’s been building, because even though Julia had chosen not to address whatever it is that’s hanging over her, Daniel doesn’t think that he’s quite safe from the topic. He hands one bottle over to Julia and takes a second for himself, taking a seat on one of the barstools.

He should’ve left the tv on; the only sound in the apartment is the sizzling of the pan and the audible beat of his own racing heart.

“So.”

And there’s that word again. Too quick. Too final. Too loud to pretend he hadn’t heard. “So…?”

Rather than answer, she takes a long, slow swig of her drink — steeling herself, maybe, and Daniel wishes he could tell what for — and sets it down a little too hard. Frowns. Stirs the onions. As the silence begins to drag on just long enough that it seems she might not actually say whatever she’s building up to, Julia plants both hands on the edge of the countertop and stares down at Daniel, curious and not unkind. Maybe a little sad. “So. You and Dani, that’s gotten pretty… serious?”

Ah.

This is a topic he’d known was bound to come up, eventually, given the history between Julia and Dani — the old history, from before, of rumors and stories pieced together from Julia and photos in the papers of Charge sweeping Sidestep off their feet as the dust settled after a battle, and the history that’s new and raw and a little bit broken, all sharp barbs and repeated arguments and shattered glances.

(The breakroom at HQ has seen Daniel walk in on one too many long lingering kisses between the two, and even with every hasty, flushed retreat, he can’t help but gather, slowly, that Julia holds them like she may never again get the chance, and Dani pulls away like her lips taste of regret. He ignores the way the kiss always lingers in his own mind, just a bit, but he can’t ignore the way it makes him a little sad for them both — the bonds between two people shouldn’t be laced with as much pain as they are love.)

But — serious? Between him and Dani? He doesn’t quite avoid Julia’s gaze as he considers all the things Dani’s shared with him, trusted with him, and considers, too, the careful, fragile way they’ve taken things one day at a time.

“I don’t know if that’s the right word,” he admits, honest, fingers tapping along the glass of his beer. Julia’s gone back to tending to the food, so he’s at least spared the weight of her gaze on him. “You know about… them, now—“ and he can’t bring himself to say Re-Gene, not now, not with the way Julia claims she’s okay with it even though hesitance and confusion still bleed so freely into her expression around Dani, “—and how it makes things a little complicated, with everything they’ve been through.”

To his surprise, the words are met with a short, sharp laugh, and Julia looks up from the food just long enough to flash him a wry, fond smile. “You too, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Complicated.” She draws the word out, making exaggerated air quotes as she does. “Dani’s favorite word. It was complicated ten years ago, complicated last year…” She trails off, glancing towards the bedroom as she breathes out a few words in Spanish. “Sure is fucking complicated now.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what to say, and the apology is so reflexive, thoughtless; Julia’s words are soft and tired, not angry, but Daniel can’t tell if the “complication” in question refers to himself, or Dani’s past, or their injuries. He knows Julia’s smart, knows she’s long since put two and two together — he’d told her, outright, about the dinner date, and she’d been quick to pick up on the fact that he already knew about their tattoos, and that they’d had a spare change of clothes stashed away in his apartment — but they’ve both been so focused on taking care of Dani that he hasn’t been able to even guess at how Julia feels about it all.

He knows how he feels about it; in Dani’s place, he wouldn’t have hesitated to choose Julia over himself — and not in that quiet rage of self-deprecation that he sees so often in Dani, but out of an honest appreciation for Julia.

Julia, the woman currently standing in his kitchen, in a crisp white tank top that shows off her toned arms and wide shoulders. The woman giving him an amused, thoughtful look, lips pressed into a familiar grin, drawing out faint laugh lines as the smile grows.

(Had they been serious when they’d said they cared for both him and Ortega? When they’d said Ortega’s never been the jealous sort? When they’d said this was an option…?)

Daniel clears his throat. He knows he’s gone pink right up to the tips of his ears, and he also knows that Julia’s noticed.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, still looking far too pleased with herself, “I’m happy for you. Both of you.” The words are a little too soft, a little too warm, like she’s holding back regret and frustration and bitterness. “I’m just glad they’re alive,” she adds after a moment, and her voice is so genuine that something deep within Daniel aches; he can’t imagine losing Dani, not now, but to get them back from the dead after seven years and lose them to someone else’s arms? That’s—

That’s not a conversation he’s going to have without Dani.

“I think—“ and he’s not flustered, not expending a considerable amount of focus on keeping his ass on the barstool so he doesn’t hover, “—that we should talk. All three of us.”

Julia’s staring at him again, eyes narrowing in his direction even as the pan sizzles and pops on the stove in front of her. She’s clearly thinking, working through his words before she comes to some conclusion and gives him a slow nod. “Okay. After dinner,” she says, brandishing a spoon towards Daniel. “I’m not letting Dani weasel out of another meal. They need to eat.”

He smiles up at Julia, warm and bright and open — the kind of earnest expression that would merit an eye roll and a fond half-grin from Dani — because, complicated feelings aside, she still cares for Dani in a way that’s impossible to miss. Maybe she has the unfortunate habit of treating them like one of her crusades, sometimes, but in this, she’s always been easy to read — she loves them. That alone isn’t enough to fix things, to fix them, he knows that. But it’s still a good place to start.

“Thank you, Julia.”

“You’re welcome.” One eyebrow quirks upward, and she gives him an odd, curious look. “I know you’re doing your best, here, but I also know how Dani is. This—“ a pause as she gestures to the food, “—is for you as much as it is them.”

…oh.

“I… Thank you.” He fidgets, fingers tapping along his still-untouched drink. “I meant… they’re lucky to have you. To have had you for all that time.”

The smile she gives him is as warm and fond as anything he’s ever seen from Julia. “They’ll always have me. Even if…” She looks away, not quite frowning. The stove clicks off, and Daniel thinks the conversation is over until she turns the full force of her attention on him again. “What do you want here, Daniel? With—“ She gives a vague wave of her hand between the two of them.

That’s easy. “I want Dani to be happy.”

“Not what I asked.” She shakes her head, eyes turning hard like she’s trying to drive home some point. “Forget Dani, for a minute. What do you want?”

He frowns; his wants are secondary, here, but he knows that isn’t the answer Julia’s looking for. “What they said, about—“ he does the same as Julia had, making a brief gesture between himself and her, and he isn’t sure whose embarrassment it is that he’s sparing by not actually saying it aloud. “It’s… I’m not against it.”

That’s out in the open, now.

Julia’s quiet just long enough for the silence to grow awkward. “Me neither.” She looks up, and the smile she gives Daniel is more genuine, carries more weight than he’s used to. “Dani, they’re… they’ve never been what I’d call cheerful, but they never used to be so angry.” A shaky breath. Shaky laugh. Shaking hand that she runs through her hair. “Guess I know why, now. But that goes away when they’re with you. They’re more like they used to be.” She takes a slow sip of her beer, and it seems to ground her somewhat and her voice is steady again when she speaks. “I can’t seem to stop fighting with them.”

Daniel thinks back to all the arguments he’d had with Dani; all the times they’d yelled and snapped and tried to throw his words and kindness back in his face. And he’d let them. How do you convince someone they don’t need to be angry at the whole world? When they have enough built up anger that they could lash out at the whole world?

He doesn’t think he’s quite figured it out yet, so he settles for a neutral, “They’re going through a lot.”

“Yeah.” Silence again — heavier, but less awkward — until Julia seems to collect herself with a deep breath and turns back to Daniel with a more familiar grin. “Hey, there’s the media angle to think of, too, you know.”

“The what?”

“The media,” she repeats with an exaggerated shrug, as if it should be obvious. “They’ll love it. I look good on camera, you look good on camera, we’re both very popular with the fans… Let’s face it, with the way things have been going lately, we’re a match made in PR heaven.”

True. But he’s not sure if she means to say it would be only for the cameras. Not sure if it bothers him. He knows how this works, after all, knows that the “relationship” he was supposed to have had with Angie was more about keeping the gossip columns sated and filled with easy, innocent things. It’s just a misdirect — play the happy couple and smile for the camera, and pay no attention to anything going on behind the scenes.

Especially now, as Julia had said; Shrike has been a looming threat to the Rangers for… what, close to a year now? Toying with them, tearing at the Rangers’ reputation, making a mockery of the government, and doing it all while preening and strutting for the cameras. It makes his job that much more important, adds a weight to his role as the picture perfect face of the Rangers — because while he and the rest of the team can train and plan and work to take down Shrike, it’s Daniel’s job alone to make sure the public perception of the team doesn’t suffer too much.

He can’t deny that it would be a much easier beast to wrangle with Julia at his side, in whatever capacity that ends up being. And…

“It would be safer for Dani, too,” he adds, the words slow and thoughtful. A misdirect of his own. No reason for the press to start searching for answers on Herald’s all-too-public love life when he has Charge on his arm. He knows Dani’s careful, but they’ve already spent years hiding from the cameras when they were Sidestep — he doesn’t want them to have to go through that again.

“As safe as things can get for them.” There’s something dark and heavy about the way Julia speaks, a cold determination and furious concern bleeding into the words.

If Daniel had any concerns that Julia’s reservations about the Special Directive would get in the way of things, they’re gone — it goes unspoken that she won’t let anything happen to Dani, not if she can help it.

That’s good. Common ground. One steady, unshakable truth that they can share between them.

It’s a start.

(And that does it — he’s hovering.)

[loosesodamarble]

The Seer of Past and Future

A girl who sees the past with one eye and the future with the other. Not literally. But this child has a past that haunts her despite her efforts to look to the future.

..........

Sterling Faust (born as Cassandra Yvern)

Her original name, Cassandra, means "one who excels over men." The name Sterling comes from Middle English meaning "little star or be used to describe something of great quality (usually in reference to silver). It's also another way to refer to starling birds.

Age: 24

Birthday: June 18

Magic Attribute: Remnant/Divination. Remnant Magic allows Sterling to have glimpses of the past and by focusing on specific items or locations she can get clearer past visions. For example, using Remnant Magic on Asta's grimoire might show Sterling the moment Asta received it. She's not directly reading memories but replaying past moments through magic. Divination Magic allows Sterling to make rough predictions of the future through a focus like tarot cards or actively peer into the future. The visions she has are focused on singular people though. If she were to use Divination Magic on Yami, she might have a vision of how he will act in his next fight without being able to see who or where he fights and possibly not even the end results. Sterling's future divinations can be amplified using methods like tarot cards, astrology, and crystal lenses (elaboration for another day).

Appearance: Sterling has bright red hair that's naturally wavy. She grows it out long and styles small braids into it. She's stubborn on styling her hair so she has heavy front bangs because of a magic circlet implanted into her forehead, which is the source of her Divination Magic. She has heterochromia, her right eye being a navy blue and her left eye being a cloudy shade of gray.

Personality: Sterling was much shier upon being introduced to the Bulls due to the trauma of losing her birth family. Thanks to Josele, Nacht, and the Black Bulls, she emerged from her shell. She is a calm and serious individual while still showing warmth to people. Speaks directly about her thoughts and feelings which makes her come off as blunt or coarse. Her straightforwardness doesn't always result in clarity as she sometimes bursts out with statements without giving context. Tends to take things at face value and so jokes or sarcasm fly over her head often. She’s diligent, wanting to see whatever she faces to the end. Studious and believes in constant improvement rather than trying to attain a “perfect” state of skill/knowledge. Sterling, being the oldest, feels a great deal of responsibility placed on her and does her best to take the lead but ultimately isn't very good at it. Becomes rather cold in a tense situation and doesn’t appreciate distractions or people making light of whatever issue is at hand. Despite how stern she can be, Sterling is ultimately a kind person. She's the type of person to greet others with a smile and nod. Approaches people she really likes directly. Willing to get along with most people but she's not successful at getting along with everyone. Still, she understands that all people are people and this respects the lives they lead, even if she personally doesn’t approve. Learned to have a giving and helpful heart from her parents; she finds great joy in helping others.

Born as Cassandra to the Yverns, a family of hunters in the Forsaken Realm, she was expected to continue the family business. To make her a more capable hunter, she was given a circlet imbued with her great-grandfather's magic (the creation of "work associates"). When Cassandra was four, the Yvern family was attacked by... she can't recall what it was, just that it was scary. Cassandra's family fought the mystery creature as Erwin Halloak, a family friend, took her to safety. She passed out during the escape and when she awoke, she was at the Black Bull Hideout. Josele introduced herself as Cassandra's temporary guardian and explained that their families apparently knew each other and that's why Josele was going to watch over Cassandra.

While she stayed at the hideout, which lasted around a month, she refused to sleep alone and constantly snuck into other rooms to sleep next to someone and feel safe. Josele and Nacht were the most accepting with Noelle and Gordon tied for second. Meanwhile, Zora used trap magic to lock her out after the first instance with him and Yami nearly stabbed her thinking he was being attacked.

Eventually, she got adopted by Josele and Nacht. Upon her adoption, she and her new parents decided on the name "Sterling" together.

Thought Liebe, Gimodelo, and the other devils were magic plush animals before learning what they really were.

Owen has surmised that Sterling's circlet cannot be removed without killing her.

Being a few years older than the other children and the nature of her Divination Magic made Sterling the go-to babysitter for many families.

Sterling gets along the best with her siblings. Despite the difference in age, Sterling is friendly with Clara and Raphael, wanting to encourage their confidence and training since they believe she is worthy of admiration. She's fond of Aimee, Naru, and Filomina but will admit she doesn't have the energy to keep up with them. Ann and Fleuriana's more bullheaded tendencies grate on Sterling though.

[badedramay]

i also feel like the yumna situation isn't really comparable bc the anger stems from the fact that yumna built her image on being the indie darling who did the thought provoking projects that were markedly different from what was mainstream, only to end up trying to justify working in a project as egregious as tere bin. like when you have something like dil nah umeed toh nahi in your repertoire, in which a focus on violence against women and the horrors of it are so pronounced to the point you risk being banned by pemra, it's hard to justify your own integrity as an actor when you switch to something like tere bin once mainstream success is more immediately accessible to you (and the same goes for wahaj). obv plenty of pakistani actors have starred in projects ranging anywhere from mid to trash. it's an unfortunate reality if staying consistently employed is the goal esp when you're starting to build your career. but when you're a veteran with a reputable resume to boot you have a choice and people are going to notice what you choose and how you wield the influence you've developed. you don't see sajal or kubra or ramsha or mawra interested in starring in the same trash simply bc they're more famous now than they were before. some of their projects may have shortcomings (eg hum kahaan kay sachay thay or for a more recent example neem) but the social statements of their works are clearly important to them and that's what people are criticizing yumna for lacking at present. even moreso when she's taking active steps to defend herself from criticism rather than hearing out and acknowledging what worthwhile criticism there is. i hate it when actresses are lectured on humbling themselves but listening to her comments at the round table recently was alarming for me. there's all too many actors including her who feel entitled to shrug off criticism bc if they know they acted well then that's seemingly all that matters. i can't imagine living in a state of unreality like that

but Tere Bin isn't the only mainstream drama that she has done though? Raaz e Ulfat is right there. Guzaarish was also a soapy melodrama. so it's not like her repertoire is only made up of the artsy dramas. Pukaar too, if I'm not wrong, had her as a damsel in distress for the most run-time of the show. frankly, I don't mind Yumna doing more proper mainstream dramas because let's face it..the on-ground popularity come from such dramas only. TB's success led her to gain more commercials and more campaigns which mean more money for her. actors already have a limited shelf life..why wouldn't she want to make the most of it now that the opportunity has struck?

TB was a mess. no arguments there. it was problematic and probably the worst character Yumna had to give life to. I agree. but how does that mean Yumna has fully switched to these roles? afaik her next confirmed project is a movie Nayab that's taking her back to her character-driven narrative roots. who knows what her next project is going to be? I'll reserve my criticism for her if she chooses to do another TB because yeah, then this becomes a choice. but until then..this girl has done more than enough projects in her career as an actor to warrant at least one project where she gets to relieve herself from social responsibility and just have fun. acting in Pakistani drama industry is already hard enough, it doesn't need to become a platform for activism all the time especially when all the responsibility is thrust on the shoulders of the actors when they are the most dispensable pawns of the game and the real power lies in the hands of the executives and makers. I find it unfair if all the work Yumna has done over the years gets dismissed because of one bad project (that I personally believe she didn't expect to blow up in the way it did) or that her previous conscious choices of project be seen in a suspicious or dubious light.

not every actor has the same circumstances so expecting them all to make similar choices or have the same career arc is not wise. we can't disregard the fact that acting is also a job for these people and sometimes as an employed adult you gotta suck it up. Yumna has power, Yumha has a voice; and she has used it plenty in some very powerful projects. but like every adult she has the right to not be defined by being just one kind of actor. as I type this I am reminded of how Maya had said that Yumna mostly gets cast in these heavy character roles when she can do something completely different if given a chance and she should be given a chance.

if Yumna is facing criticism for defending TB then she's also receiving immense love for this project in real time. expecting her to denounce the project that continues to give her love and acceptance sounds rather...foolish, no? i doubt Yumna is dumb enough to not know where TB went wrong with her character likewise she's not dumb enough to not acknowledge that TB is her biggest success. she's stuck in a catch 22.

honestly I don't see how being part of projects that almost get banned by PEMRA or barely get any ratings or views are some matter of pride and only they should be an actor's standard. even the biggest actors in the most stable industries want to have a balance of artsy and mainstream projects to satisfy both the artist and the actor in them. if Yumna is doing that as well..so what? being an "indie darling" has barely promised her guaranteed acknowledgement. her performance in Parizaad was phenomenal and what did she get in return for it? just a measly "best couple" nomination alongside Ahmed Ali Akbar. and this wasn't her first snub btw, she's been snubbed many times. with the body of work she has..she should have more awards to her name because that's what the indie darlings are supposed to have at least, right? but will anyone in their right mind deny Meerab a nomination if not a win? that's the whole game here.

[geminmyeyes]

Chapter 2 - Beyond Light and Shadow (Tumblr Backup)

<- Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ->

Somewhere in the Youkai World, a palace plunged in the darkest shadow, leaking with powerful yoki energy much like a stray drop of ink darkening the once clear water. Lit only by faint azure flames, a cold, calculating youkai with a feminine form sat upon her throne of decaying bone.

“Goku Hyakki-Hime, your majesty,” Chiharu began, kneeling before the might of the frigid hearted queen he served so loyalty for saving his life. His Kenbumajin was by his side, being able to manifest without the need for him and Chiharu to switch places like they did in the Human World. “I’ve done the request of bringing back the requested youkai, however,”

“However, what?” The queen’s cold voice spoke, her voice not either curious or furious. It was devoid of tone, not even that or boredom or bemusement.

“There was a group of individuals who possessed various Youkai Watch devices that opposed my efforts, I was able to fend them off with the aid of the Genma and the Kenbumajin you have given me, even killed one of their Kenbumajin,” Chiharu began his report, trying to save face. “But they seem to have the current lord of the Youkai World on their side, meaning it’s possible for them to get intel on the location of the Sacred King’s Armory.”

“The Hellfire Judgement Lance is a big maybe given the Mikado Tribe’s connections,” Chiharu’s Kenbumajin piqued in, trying to remain as collected as possible despite the sarcasm and need to make a biting remark flowed through his veins. “But the others I greatly doubt, given how scattered a lot of them are, both in the Human and Youkai Worlds. Even then, it took me breaking the limiters on my armor to get rid of that one Kenbumajin, dunno when I’ll be ready for that kind of power again.”

“Don’t fret though, my queen,” The Kenbumajin added to his statement. “That lance wielder isn’t even the one that killed me the first go around, we should be more than fine.”

“Technically don’t we have a Scared King’s Armory in our possession?” Chiharu piqued. His queen looked dull, but something in her eyes gave something resembling worry.

“It’s grafted to something I’d rather not think about unless it’s a moment of desperation. Besides, there’s no telling where the holder of such a weapon is so we can’t even use the power of one of the Sacred King Kenbumajin against them,” Goku Hyakki-Hime gave a typical lifeless response. “The two of you can go recover for now. Chiharu, please visit me in this throne chamber when you wake up, there are necessary upgrades I must bestow upon you.”

As the two were dismissed, Goku Hyakki-Hime shifted her focus elsewhere, to a fellow Oni that had been dragged in by her loyal knights.

Shutendouji, who was gradually becoming more and more conscious, shot right back to reality when Goku Hyakki-Hime held up his chin. In her stiff motions, there was at the very least a valiant, noble attempt to try to give him a tantalizing look. Damn, she must’ve known his tendency to obey anyone who calls herself princess. Without Douketsu to tell him how much of a simpleton he was acting like, he felt himself not too keen to improve on such a weak spot. Plus he had to admit, despite her dead motions, this queen lady was really damn cute.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The events from last week were, to put bluntly and simply, a lot to process despite happening in rapid succession. Not only was this Chiharu kid on their level, but had a Kenbumajin that was insanely powerful, leaving Asura greatly weakened and Fudou Muyoou dead in Youkai Terms. At least, that's what everyone guessed, not a soul had seen the ruffian boy form he took when he wasn’t lending his electrifying power to Touma anywhere. The kids had a vague idea on where to get help, but it was cryptic and they were at the end of the day, a bunch of first year high school students.

Yes, they saved all of Human and Youkai kind from extinction when they were only in middle school, but this felt different despite seeming initially, a much less pressing threat on the surface. Taking over the world at least had a chance of reclaiming it as opposed to full on extinction, but those wanting to take it had one hell of a dangerous ace up their sleeve.

Just who was that guy, anyways? Youkai existed in legends beforehand, the portrayal of the people being a bit different to how it is in the reality of the Youkai World (Lord Enma being a particular example, he can’t even grow a beard), and it puzzled Natsume. She had spent a whole night reading upon legendary archers with possible sun affiliations. Legends of an expert archer who shot down the nine suns upon request, punished with mortality alongside his wife. Another about a child of a sun god who started one of the bloodiest wars by being offered the most beautiful woman in the world. Several words were read about a prince fearful to fight against his family, but being assured it would be okay in the end by the literal universe itself. Stories of a god of sun, light, kingship, and the arts possessing a powerful sling and being the father to an equally great, if not greater, hero. So much information, such little time. A board originally for keeping memos and the occasional cute pin was now covered in thumb tacks and string with several handwritten notes from various paper pads she had kicking around in her room.

“The sun motifs and archery could have melded together, alongside a bitter resentment from becoming mortal for simply doing as he was instructed to do…” Natsume pondered aloud, gripping the pencil between her hands. “That guy HAS to be Hou-Yi! If I turn out to be wrong then I’ll be–”

“Natsume, sweetie?” A familiar, soft voice spoke, the door creaking open without a moment’s hesitation between the gentle knock that preceded. From that string of actions and voice, she recognized her as her mother instantly.

“Y-Yes, mom?” Natsume choked out as politely as she could, trying to ease up from the sudden entrance of her mother and about to yell a swear. 

Natsume’s mother simply just looked at her board with a puzzled look but an earnest nod. “I hope you’re having fun with…whatever you’re doing right now, but remember you start school tomorrow so it’s not the best idea if you stay up too late, alright?”

Crap, she had been staying up too late going down rabbit holes of information again, hadn’t she?

“I-I will! Wow, time sure does fly sometimes!” The daughter answered back rather awkwardly, her mother closing the door gently as she left.

In a moment of awkward silence, Natsume realized she should probably go to bed soon. It was halfway past midnight already. Her brain was already fairly fried by looking up so much information and trying to piece it all together.

As she was turning off the lamp and main light in her room, the corkboard stared her down. “HOU-YI” was written boldly and confidently in the center of the board, alongside a crude scribble of what she remembered that Kenbumajin looked like. String connected points to points from different stories and legends. 

She hoped that she would be able to balance all of this alongside the turbulence of starting high school tomorrow. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A positive note for Natsume is that the day started out normally. Just take her seat, pay attention to what each teacher has to say, no sweat no problem. It was the first day after all, nothing too difficult would be given on the first day.

That would be the case if it wasn’t for the army of girls that manifested out of what felt like absolute thin air to crowd around one guy in particular. 

Whoever he was, he radiated with the distinct scent of lavender vanilla, and his skin was a divine smoky quartz free of any blemishes, glittering like the finest copper. Hair was a dark oxide red that had a few lilac hair extensions brushed in for extra effect. He was practically a modern Aprhodite, just casually going about with a posse of girls.

“It’s. It’s literally the first day!?” Natsume thought to herself, casually picking up the pace with walking to her classroom to avoid getting roped into whatever nonsense was going on over there. She took a seat, closed her eyes, and hoped whoever would plop into the desk next to her for the rest of the year would be tolerable.

 “I’m surprised that there’s a girl not instantly captivated by me,” The boy from earlier spoke, and to Natsume’s shock, was going to be right next to her for the rest of the year. Just great.

She didn’t bother to give him an introduction, making the kid’s smug face humbled slightly. This one would be a challenge, he thought.

“My name is Saito Mitsue, I kindly ask you to not forget such an important thing,” He tried to play it as smooth as he could, covering up his embarrassment and failing slightly at hiding it.

“I’m, uh, Natsume Amano,” Natsume answered bluntly within a bit of a bemused blurting out of an introduction.

Classes went by relatively normally, not even the homeroom teacher felt like they were secretly a malicious youkai this time around. Maybe this would all be normal. Aside from the aforementioned threats of a hostile conqueror of the human and Youkai worlds but that could wait until after a long drawl of classes. The last of these classes was next.

“Oh brother, Home Economics. Not my forte,” Saito bit his lip a bit in dread, Natsume looking a bit puzzled.

“Is it that hard? Mostly just learning a few different skills,” Natsume tried to reassure to the best of her ability. Saito looked off to the side a bit, his hand to the side of his face.

“Ehhh, I was never the best cook, I had to always get my brother to help me out–”

The rather fabulously eccentric boy’s train of thought came to a screeching halt when the door slid open and the one who would bear knowledge of home economics entered the room. He looked to be pretty toned and ripped. Slightly sunbaked skin could be seen through his mostly clean and professional look with a collared shirt and tie, but he had a scruffy, uneven beard, like he attempted to shave but the razor blades broke instantly on the first go around.

“Alright, let’s get this introduction brief and simple so we can get to the good stuff,” The man spoke, his voice strong yet gentle, crossing his arms to do his best to seem cool. “Name’s Mr. Kazama, and I’ll be your coach in showing you how to make the most of your home, from how to use appliances to how to cook well!”

As the last class of the day continued, Chiharu stood on the roof of the building, looking over something he was given this morning from his queen. It was a Youkai Arc, but the usually translucent white outer edge was pitch black, not a bit of light was allowed through despite its resemblance to a gemstone in terms of texture and weight. 

“This is a Dark Arc,” Her words echoed in his mind. “It gives a boost to a Youkai’s Shadowside form, but it can only be summoned in its Shadowside form and they will not really listen to you all that well. Summon them from a safe distance.”

He had asked about wanting to summon two fierce looking youkai he saw among the Dark Arcs, one of lightning and one of wind, but was ordered to refrain from summoning them due to the summoning system still being a prototype and those youkai in particular being a little more unruly. But perhaps if these Youkai Detectives prove themselves as a particular thorn in their side.

Initially, there was hesitation. A small part of Chiharu wondered if this was the right thing to do, something about the arc he was given and the ones his queen presented felt ominous in some way. 

But, an order from the queen is an order, and he had to obey to prove his gratitude towards his pointless life having been given some meaning.

In the same slot he would insert his Youseiken key into, Chiharu slotted in the arc, a shadowy energy coming out of the watch grafted to his arm as the face gave a faint glow. The words he was instructed to say flooded his mind and he held the dark arc over the watch face.

“One whose heart is sealed in darkness, let the world know your wrath!” The dark fog spread more and more until it summoned forth a youkai, where that youkai ended up or what it ended up being was unclear as the summoning coordinates seemed to be a bit off.

But what could be gathered was that this youkai had made the previously idyllically bright and sunny skies be covered in dense clouds that brought in buckets of hard hitting rain. Chaos was unleashed almost within an instant, it was quickly a record for schools to dismiss their students to let them go home early in this sudden freak storm. 

The blare of grating storm warning sirens and frazzled looking weather reporters, it was a delight for the wicked child.

In the midst of the sudden shift of weather without a single warning, among all the panic, a silver eyed university student was staying level headed, but was puzzled by the sight.

“The weather patterns for today…they didn’t line up like this at all!” Shirogane muttered to himself, pulling up a somewhat shady website on his phone, the occult reporting site Usuranura. There was no way that this was a freak accident of weather, he had forecasted that it was going to be clear skies from sunrise until sunset.

But was this all a work of something supernatural, or was he just a fraudulent meteorologist in training? Was this path even right? His mind was quite literally clouded.

Even then, the request was submitted, sitting in his university's science ward peacefully to try to inspect this bizarre phenomenon. 

To Shirogane’s surprise, there was a response to his request, and by the time he looked at it and put his phone down (the phone service on campus was a bit shoddy and slow), three spunky high school students stood before him.

“Oh hey, aren’t you that guy I ran into last week? Shirogane Inazuma was it?” Natsume asked, the aforementioned man nodding.

“Yes, it seems the rain keeps making us meet,” Shirogane commented, before getting back to the matter at hand. “As you can probably tell, there has been a sudden burst of rain despite there being no clouds as far as the eye could see earlier, and there’s no signs of it stopping either. It has the potential to become a Typhoon if it keeps up…”

“Shouldn’t you be headed home if the weather has the potential to be that bad?” Touma asked, Shirogane simply shaking his head in response.

“I’m a meteorology student, an understudy weatherman if you will, I can’t back down even when things look dire like this,” He answered, lost in thought.

“Well that settles it, this has to be the work of a Youkai, without a doubt!” Akinori concluded, Whisper looking up from his Y-Pad in a slightly shocked expression when the boy came to that conclusion.

Without further hesitation, investigation began to be underway between the trio, plus Shirogane and his knowledge of the facility. Something about this place, the Youkai causing this freak storm had to be around here somewhere…

Nearby weather radars kept monitoring, the rain being particularly intense around the facility’s building. The rain that was going over the building was less drops of rain and more of bullets battering the daylights out of the structure. 

Amidst the pour of rain there was…crying…sobbing? How strange. The four of them were the only ones in the building.

A shadowy presence could be seen down the hallway, Natsume pressed a switch on her Watch without a moment of hesitation to shine a light. 

Revealed within the cloud of shadow was a Youkai resembling a little girl, with blue skin and lilac hair that was sopping all over her crying face. Her torn umbrella dripped off waterfalls worth of water.

“I’ll try to lock the building where I can, we can’t have all that water trying to damage our equipment!” Shirogane made his intentions clear, meaning everyone would have to try to be careful within limited space confines, and a possible threat of flooding! Good thing this seemed to be a meeting room, so there was some space aside from a table in the middle of the room.

“Summoning, Shadow! Please come out my friend, Jibanyan!” Natsume didn’t hesitate in summoning the (mostly) reliable cat youkai, always there to lend a paw. That or perhaps it was merely just a habit. Regardless the feeling was summoned, but quickly reverted to his Lightside form when he was exactly what he was pitted up against.

“You expect me to square up against a kid?” Jibanyan questioned with a lot of hesitation to fight. “Look, I get it, I can punch a truck in half but I don’t beat up kids. I have a code of honor.”

The rainy youkai, having had enough of the bickering, casted forth some water to try to sweep the feline away, who just resulted in jumping onto a nearby fridge and hissed.

“You’re so…so mean and scary!” The smaller youkai sobbed, the water situation getting much worse by the minute.

“Possession, Genma! Yoshitsune! Lend me your strength!” Touma jumped in, figuring a smaller, less destructive Genma might be the key to winning this fight. In the meantime, Natsume fumbled around for another arc.

“Summoning, Shadow! Please come out my friend, Komsan!”

Within no time both the flute wielding Genma and the fierce shrine dog had made their appearances at last. Swiftly they took off into their own directions to deal with the situation at hand.

Yoshitsune was first to start things off, softly trying to approach the child.

“Is something troubling you, miss?” Yoshitsune asked politely, the child looking in the direction of the flute wielding Genma.

Her response was to smack the Genma silly, giving him a piece of her mind the whole time.

“There’s nothing wrong with me, you meanie!” She cried out, Yoshitsune backing off a bit after smacking the Youkai away with his small but handy sword. Something in her voice was a bit off however, like a child wasn’t this irrational to be calmly asked if everything was okay, right?

“It seems there is some sort of curse making this Youkai’s Shadowside much more violent and unreasonable than it typically is,” Yoshitsune gave his insight to the situation at hand.

“Alright, well it might be best to see if ol’ Komasan can get an opening on that kid and I can see if a little bit of Yojistu can get her out of her funk!” Akinori explained his plan, coordination on the fight being underway.

While waters began to rise in the small meeting room, Komasan tried to figure out how to knock over the Youkai without causing too much harm to a literal child. So using his finisher to summon a huge rock statue to crush her seemed to be an absolute last resort plan.

The dog’s thoughts were stopped by a jet of water being blasted into his direction, jumping out of the way made him run into a chair with wheels and nearly crashing into a wall had he not stopped himself at the last possible moment. Wait a second…perhaps…?

Leaping out of the chair, Komasan proceeded to kick it square in the direction of the rainy youkai, making her wobble a bit where she stood.

“Now!” Komasan barked, Akinori getting a smug look on his face.

“Alright, time to shine, take this!” The priest boy yelled, making a star formation out of magic and tossing it at the rainmaking Youkai, causing a burst of light to purify the troublesome youkai.

Finally, the rain had stopped. The sun started to break through the clouds, slowly starting to dry up the sopping wet ground.

“Is everything alright?” Shirogane asked from the other side of the locked door.

“All clear skies!” Natsume answered, all the locks in the facility being disabled and going back to normal.

All the flooding water that had resulted from the encounter had dried up and now standing was a much cheerier youkai bathed in sunny yellows and a less torn up umbrella. Her face was graced with an expression of pure, unparalleled joy.

“How did I end up here?” The sunny Youkai asked herself curiously, the teens approaching her.

“Hey there little miss, is everything alright?” Natsume inquired, the youkai just smiling in return.

“Yeah, I just got lost,” The asked youkai answered sickeningly sweetly. “By the way, my name is Hare-Onna, my shadowside there is called Ame-Onna but I often get mixed up with my mama if you aren’t super specific. Plus I like being happier and sunnier anyways!”

“Hare-Onna, do you know what happened to cause you to act out in such a way? You don’t seem like the type to do that often,” Touma added in, the girl thinking for a bit before giving a slight sigh.

“I don’t remember much, I remember seeing a mean looking boy as the last thing before my memory got really clouded.” Hare-Onna answered, trying not to seem too glum but perked right back up. “But! I think they might have put a spell on me to be really mean. Usually I stay in one place when I’m in my Shadowside form, I don’t like causing trouble.”

Mean looking boy, that’s probably Chiharu…

“So whoever this Queen of a Hundred Demons is, she must have something that causes Youkai to go berserk and violent,” Akinori thought for a moment, piecing it all together. 

“An evil queen? That sounds awful, please, let me help out in any way that I can!” Hare-Onna called to action, handing out her Arc without a moment of hesitation. “I pinky promise that I’ll listen and be nice, even when I’m upset and go into Shadowside!”

“Thank you, we’re doing our best to figure out how to stop her before things get out of hand,” Natsume smiled back, the sunny enthusiasm rubbing off on her.

Meanwhile, Shirogane thought to himself, some of the words the priest boy was saying. A Queen of a Hundred Demons? Why did that sound so…so eerily familiar?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles and miles away, far off in France, a museum tour to a group of high schoolers was underway, taking them through a special exhibition showing off various weapons from across the world.

Swords, spears, shields, knives, bows and arrows, you name it, from all corners of the globe, they were on display. While each was a crafted thing of beauty to behold, there was one that caught the pale blue eye of one student that came abroad.

“Excuse me, could you tell me more about this really pretty archery bow you have here?” Ayame politely asked one of the curators, pointing in the direction of a bow made of pure platinum highlighted with bright cyan accents. 

“Yes, that bow was found by the curation team of this traveling exhibit, and they found it in the Yamuna River miraculously intact and without a scratch!” The curator gave a gentle smile and began to explain. “It’s a miracle such a thing of pure platinum didn’t seem to rust. Because of its ability to have been kept in pristine condition and where it was found, the curation team has decided to call it ‘Gandiva’. Shame that tomorrow we have to pack things up to go to our next stop in Japan…it’s a wonderful piece of weaponry and art.”

“Thank you, and I agree, it is quite a beautiful piece of artistry!” Ayame thanked, before starting to take mental notes, as something about the bow looked strangely familiar. 

She got out her phone to scroll through her group chat log between her and the other detectives across the continent and to the sea, further inspecting the engraving from the Youkai World she had been sent in the chat. It was a rhythmic pattern of looking at her screen and then back at the display case.

There was no denying it had a similar four gem set up with a colored diamond much like the other Youseiken she had seen. The primary color of cyan matched the depiction seen in the large engraving, even some of the distinct patterns were translated.

Making sure her hands were steady, Ayame got the best photos she could, getting a few closeups as well, making sure nothing was missed by any glares from the glass or random museum goers being in frame. Then, the photos were sent alongside a message and sticker of a cute rabbit with polka-dotted inner ears making a shocked expression.

“Hey guys, I think this might be one of the Sacred King’s Armory Youseiken you guys were talking about to me last week!?” 

“Woah! Do you know if it’s a permanent part of that exhibit or of a touring exhibit?”

“They said it’ll be on the road to Japan starting tomorrow, so it might be at a museum where you guys are all at! It’s called the Marvelous Weapons Of the Past Three Millennia exhibition!”

[beepersteeper]

Drawing -- Astarion x Tav -- Fluff

saw a few posts about this floating around and it needed to get out of my head. so here it is.

Tav had always taken to drawing when she felt she couldn't sort out her thoughts. And after being abducted by mindflayers, infected with their parasite, being quietly volunteered to be the leader of a pack of strangers that seem to want nothing more that to kill them selves or one another, and having to literally fight her way back home - her mind has never been more muddled. So, in the brief moments of respite she was afforded she was feverishly sketching the things around her. It was an exercise in grounding- proof that she was here and this wasn't some gruesome nightmare. Her sketchbook was more like a journal than it was a practice of art.

Tonight's muse was Astarion. 

They had been caught off guard when they scouted ahead to see what the commotion was about at the mouth of a cave. Gnolls. It was probably 6 of them but it felt like twenty. Fortune was on their side when Astarion was able to use whatever power the tadpole offered to get some help from the biggest one. 

Tav sketched the general shape of his face before focusing on his features, nose, lips, and brows.

She helped kill the other gnoll’s and then he somhow convinced her that she was also an enemy, and she dispatched herself as well. The two of them stood back to back cursing and trying to remember how to breathe after the fight. It would have been hard if Karlach and Shadowheart had been there, but just the two of them? It was nothing short of a miracle that they were able to drag eachother back to camp. The rest of the party had gotten caught up in another mission. Something about a burning building and Baldur’s Gate nobles, but Tav didnt have the mental fortitude to process that tonight.

She hunched over the sketchbook to focus on his eyes. Piercing eyes with lashes traced with koal to define them even more above his cheekbones. 

They walked in almost totyal silence save for their sounds of pain with every step and bickering “What do you mean you dont have any healing potions in your bag!?” Astarion scolded. “They’re in Karlach pack. I dont see any in youre pack either!” Tav sneered back.

Tav hesitated before she started to draw his hair. At first glance it is neat and perfectly swept ontop of his head, but to draw it, to put it to paper seemed impossible, each hair seems to go in different directions. Its imperfect in the same way his is. She shook her head at that thought. She'll unpack that another day.

“Darling,” he said gruffly dropping several health potions at her feet and sat next to her “take some of these and put them in your pack. If we get separated again I can't have you dying on me.” he pauses, and looks over her shoulder before she can pull the book away from his sight. He starts shoving a few vials in his pack while asking, “Who is that handsome fellow? An old lover?”

“No, what?” responds confused. And then immediately remembering he hasn't seen his own face in centuries.

“A new lover?” he purs taunting her. “When did you have a chance to meet someone new that I haven't seen? I'm rather good at remembering faces and you and I are always together.” he opens her pack and unceremoniously shoves the vials in wherever they'll fit.

She struggles to contain her laugh at the irony of that statement waiting for him to take a breath so she can speak.

Karlach walks behind them, stopping to make sure that Astarion got the potions. “Fangs, you got those potions ri-” she pauses and nods while looking at the sketchbook. “Oh shit! How’s it feel to see your face again? Must be a relief!” 

Tav buries her face in her free hand as Astarion rips the book from her other to study the image. “That's what I look like? I don't have wrinkles around my eyes.” he tuts and touches his face where his smile lines are and quietly says “fuck.” when he realizes that he does.

Karlach holds her hands up and walks backward the way she came as he mutters about being eternally young, having died at 39 “Which is incredibly young for an elf I’ll have you know. You weren't going to tell me were you?” he stares holes into Tav while she is leaning to her side cackling.

“You didnt even give me a chance. You were to preoccupied with asking about my lovers.” she howls.

Astarion sneakily getting a peek of Tav's sketchbook to see multiple drawings of the same guy and he's like "ooooh someone has a crush 😏" and then Tav just kinda has to sit there like "haha yeah sure do 😳"

This is just such a funny concept to me lmao

He takes a look at the drawings and is like ".... is he a vampire too...?" Everyone else is just trying not to fuckin burst out laughing