#grace shing

[spaghetti666salamander]

[thewordswewrite]

Like Winter, Like Spring

Pairing | Mizu x Fem!Reader

Summary | After the events of episode five, Mizu stumbles into the forest barely clinging to life and you happen to be hunting.

Or what would happen if you found Mizu bleeding out and cared for her (in more ways than one)?

Warnings | NSFW 18+, mentions of injury/blood/killing

W/C | 7.3k

A/N | I’ve been consumed by this show and can't help but recommend it to everyone, so please if you haven't already done so, watch it. Please leave me some comments and lmk what you think!!-Smoe<33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link  

Part Ⅰ: Winter

In the moonlit haze, a spirit roams, lost and cold, whispers of vengeance unfold, onryo's bitter gaze.

The snow soaked through your socks as you took exaggerated steps through the powder, cold seeping into your toes and numbing them. Though you had enough firewood to last until the first thaw, your food stores were beginning to dwindle. It had been a harsh winter, one your father hadn’t survived, leaving you to fend for yourself. Your day had been one of minor success; three rabbits hung from the rope tied around your waist, a haul good enough for the next few nights based on their size and you decided to head home.

Food was becoming harder to come by, and without your father, you could not venture into Mihonoseki to stock up on more dried goods. Your father had always been of more liberal views but you were still a woman and he was still your father meaning you knew where you stood in society. Due to necessity alone, your father taught you to hunt; a bow and arrow the ‘only thing suited to a woman’ your father once told you.

You pulled your scarf tighter around your head as the wind whipped around you, snow falling harder and harder as you walked. You were sure anyone else other than you caught in the storm would be utterly lost, but you knew the place like the back of your hand. As the wind howled, it carried to you the sounds of the forest and with it a distant grunt of pain, just loud enough for your keen ears to pick up on and you stilled. You would have ignored it–a lone man more often than not meaning trouble–but he was headed in the direction of your home and therefore you needed to act. With your brow set, you sank into a crouch and rifled through the snow until your unfeeling fingers grasped a rock, waiting for another sound from the man.

A hunter knew how to stalk its prey and in that moment you treated the man as nothing more. With every sound he made you got closer, using the noise from the environment to mask your own as you trailed him. In the distance, you caught sight of someone clad in navy and in the opposite direction of your home, threw the rock. You hadn’t been too worried until you heard the ‘shing’ of a katana and the crash of a tree.

A samurai.

It could be no one else with that blade or skill, and though they were meant to be honorable, you knew, they were still men. You knew every road, every tree that grew in these woods and as you were coming back up on the main trail where the samurai fled, one was struck down. Your pale hand reached out to stroke the clean-cut trunk, not yet five years old by your count and yet it had fallen. It was mindless acts of violence like this that made you distrustful of strangers.

A quick glance at the area revealed a small trail of blood, likely left by the man, and you couldn’t help but let a rueful smile grace your lips. His death would be easier than you thought. Cold, lost, and injured was a dangerous combination for anyone, but for a man in your woods? It was lethal.

You were soundless as you descended upon your prey, a respectable distance away but close enough to see his profile. He was dressed in simple pants and a shirt, though the latter looked to be soaked through with blood as one of his hands pressed against his stomach, the other grasping a blue blade, ripe for attack. It was too easy for you to nock an arrow and draw, your breath steadying as you aimed for his heart. You were preparing for the release when suddenly to your left a twig snapped and the samurai’s gaze turned to the noise, and then onto you.

The man raised his sword, removing his hand from his side to give the encounter his full attention. “Who sent you?”

You were puzzled by the question. Not only were you clearly a woman, but who was he that he thought himself important enough to have assassins sent after him? You didn’t think to voice these questions aloud but they were answered anyway when you finally caught sight of his eyes: blue. 

When he spoke again, he must have registered that you were not who he thought you were. “I am no threat to you. I am just passing through.” To prove his point he sheathed his blade and put up his hands.

You hesitated to drop your own weapon but since he was injured and still a good enough distance away, you let-down your bow and stood to your full height, noticing the man was not much taller than you. 

“Leave here!” You shouted, hands still latched to your grip and arrow, ready to fire should the need arise.

The samurai began backing up slowly, nodding to you and returning pressure to the wound at his side. When he did so, he grunted and his eyes fluttered. It all seemed to happen in a  single moment when he was suddenly face down in the snow and you were taking brisk but weary steps towards him. As you got closer, the extent of his injuries became clearer and you could see the tips of his ears and nose red from the cold. Your eyes closed in exasperation; you hadn’t intended to stumble across a half-white, dying samurai let alone bring him to your home, but seeing as you weren’t too far away and he had shown no intention of attacking you, you could not, in good conscience, leave him in the snow to die.

With a huff, you flipped the man over, grabbed him under the arms, and began to haul him toward your home, the dense snow making the task almost more difficult than you could manage. You knew he was alive based solely on the noises of discomfort he released in his sleep as you readjusted your grip and pulled harder. You were forced to stop every few feet, panting from the effort it took but when you finally were able to kick open your door and get him in front of the fireplace, you felt a sense of relief.

As you pulled up the samurai’s kimono, you got a glimpse of four deep gashes punctured into his stomach and your heart dropped. “Please stay with me.”

It was immediately apparent to you what had caused his wounds: Boss Hamata, or more accurately, his Thousand-Claw Army. That would explain why he thought someone had sent you after him and why he was covered in so much more blood than what was plausibly his own. Anxiety sent goosebumps down your arms. The thought of one of Boss Hamata’s men coming to your home and killing the both of you for whatever this samurai did entered your mind. You tried to reason with yourself; no man in his right mind would enter this storm and they must know the samurai was injured, likely only letting him go because he was sure to die. That was that you decided: he could stay until the storm passed and not a second longer. Enough time, by the looks of it, for him to heal enough to leave but not enough for anyone to come knocking at your door looking for him.

With your mind made up, you went about untying his kimono to get better access to his wound. Your still-warming fingers deftly undid the knot and moved to unwrap the samurai when suddenly a hand shot up and wrapped itself around your wrist, halting your actions.

“No.” The man’s eyes fought to open and you were once again treated to a glimpse of blue through thick black lashes. He was only able to mutter the single word before he once again fell unconscious and you stared at him a beat longer.

He didn’t have the luxury of his warning being granted, and you instead opened his shirt, only to find his chest already wrapped. Or rather her chest already wrapped. A gasp escaped you as you balked at the sight, eyes darting again to the face of the person below you and noticing not only the sharp curve of their jaw but the softness of their cheeks and decidedly feminine-looking lips. Yes, you stopped your thoughts from drifting, she was a woman, but that made your job no different.

With clinical movements, you cleaned her wound with warm water, being sure to be as gentle as possible. You retrieved a suture kit your father had gotten from town after you had cut yourself chopping wood one day and began to sterilize the needle over the fire. You ran your fingers over the inflamed skin and worried when the woman’s stomach felt warm. The stitches were quick and clean, the woman below you making no movements which worried you but did make the process easier. Once each of the four gashes was closed, you wrapped up her stomach with strips of fabric and struggled to remove her soaked shirt–though, you left her pants for the sake of her already violated modesty.

You looked at her face once again, now less troubled looking than before, and saw hints of purple peeking out from under her scarf. Much like her shirt you undid her scarf as well and were horrified to see a deep purple handprint marring her skin. With little else you could do you opened your door, the wind catching it as you did so, slamming it open in your rush to gather enough snow to compress onto the samurai’s neck.

Another gust wafted flurries into your home, chilling the room before you could close the door in time and you cursed. You wrapped the snow in the previously discarded scarf and placed it on the samurai’s neck in hopes it would ease the pain. As tightly as you could, you bundled the woman in your father’s blanket and placed your own rolled-up one under her head as support after taking her katana and placing it across the room. Just in case.

With nothing else to do to try and keep her alive, you finally got to skinning the rabbits and making yourself dinner. You decided to wait until the woman was awake until you tried to feed her and thus only made enough for yourself. The food was hearty and warm and after the exertion you surrendered to the day, you were exhausted. In lieu of having a blanket, you threw on a second kimono and huddled close to your guest and the fire and,  in an act of trust, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

- ⚔ -

You startled awake at the sound of someone shuffling around your home but all at once the memories of the day before come back to you.

“You’re awake,” You yawned, rubbing your eyes as you looked over at the half-clothed samurai propped up against your wall.

“You stitched my wounds. Why?” The woman’s voice was thick and gravelly but you could only focus on her eyes.

Your answer was simple and steadfast. “I could not leave you when you meant me no harm.”

The woman seemed to scan your face and must have found what she was looking for when she relaxed and coughed at the simple action. You took the lull to stand and place your kettle on the fire, intending on making sobacha tea for your guest. Her entire demeanor shifted when you moved and she realized she was without her sword. 

“Where is my katana?” The woman ground out, eyes darting around the space.

You gestured silently to where it lay on the other side of the room and went back to pouring the tea, steeping it to your liking and hoping it was to the tastes of the woman across from you. You handed a steaming cup to the woman and cleared your throat, intending to find out more about your mysterious guest. You watched as she took a sip of the tea and closed her eyes for a moment to savor the flavor or feeling you were unsure but either way were happy she approved.

“What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The woman paused before she answered, “Mizu.”

You introduced yourself and went about using the final two rabbits you killed to make a stew as well as some rice to help fill up. The silence between you two was undemanding as Mizu simply sat with her eyes closed while you cooked. It wasn’t long before you’d finished, offering a bowl to your guest which she took while meeting your eyes.

Mizu bowed her head. “I want to thank you for your hospitality and for saving my life.”

“As I said, I had to.” You shook your head with a smile as you ate.

The woman’s face suddenly went solemn and she put down her bowl. “Yes, but now you have to keep my secret, or else I cannot allow you to keep your life.”

Your eyes darted over to where her katana was, still half a room away, and took a steadying breath. “I can promise you I will never tell another soul but I need something in return,” Mizu looked at you apprehensively, her eyebrow raised. “You must be gone by the time the storm ends. I cannot be caught sheltering you in my home or Boss Hamata will have me killed.”

Her attention drifted from you, her expression unbothered. “You needn't worry about him or his army.”

“Why? You were clearly attacked by one of his men and–” Mizu cut you off with a raise of her hand.

“I killed them all.”

You took a moment to revel in the shock of the admission, spoken as though it was nothing more than a typical day for the female samurai. In your revelation, Mizu slid her bowl over to you, the blanket covering her shifting with the action and your cheeks warmed. You go to look away but stop yourself, instead letting your eyes search over her bandages for any signs of infection or bleeding before Mizu goes to cover herself back up, shooting you an indignant look.

“Oh! No, I–” You backtracked, knowing how it must have seemed. “Your wound, I was just looking to see if I should replace the bandages and…” You gestured to the bloodied cloth, “It looks like I should.”

Mizu looked down at herself and grimaced at the sight. “Fine, but I can do it myself.”

You nodded and retrieved a bowl of water for her to clean herself with as well as a new set of cloth to rewrap herself. You watched her struggle to undo the wrapping for a total of two minutes before you couldn’t help but reach towards her in aid though as you did she jerked away, wincing at the action and your face tightened.

“Please, let me help you.”

The two of you were locked in a stare-down, neither willing to give up ground so you decided to take it, scooting yourself forward and batting away her hands. Mizu looked ready to put up a fight but instead, she relented, allowing you to reach around her torso. Your faces were close as you did so, Mizu’s warm breath wafting sharply across your cheek as you pulled on the dressing to release it.

She began moving in every which way as you passed the bandages around her body to try and help the process go by quickly but your hands must have been chilled because when you finally revealed her skin and ran a hand along the plane of her stomach Mizu shivered and you looked up to see her eyes already trained on you. Mizu kept a hard look on her face as you wiped away congealed blood from her wound though it looked to you to have already begun scabbing, causing a self-satisfied smile to grace your face. 

“It’s looking better. I think you should be okay to travel in a few days.” The labored breathing of the injured woman forced another comment from you. “Although, I think it would be beneficial for you to remove your bindings for the time being.”

Mizu gave you another long look and you figured that she must not be used to conversing with people regularly, a trait you both now shared. In retaliation, Mizu attempted to take a deep breath though before she could, her lungs stuttered out dry coughs and her face screwed up in pain at the action.

“Fine.” She ground out, once again attempting to remove the wrap on her own and failing.

You were unamused at the sight and decided to skip the dance the two of you had been playing at since you dragged her into your home and just helped her instead. It was a similar tension as when you removed her bloodied bandage but thicker by about tenfold when your eyes met again.

You couldn’t get over the sight, blue as the sky and sea but clouded by emotion. She looked to be studying you just the same, her eyes languidly making their way over your features before settling on your mouth. You couldn’t help but let your lips part, overcome with the moment and Mizu’s increasingly seductive gaze. Your cheeks burned under her but you weren't alone in your fluster, Mizu’s own face tinged pink as well, shared heat radiating between you. 

All you had to do was lean forward and–

You cleared your throat at the thought and pulled back, “I’ll let you finish on your own. I’ll leave you.”

- ⚔ -

Ethereal and pale, haunting tales of love's demise, echo through her cold blue eyes, as sorrow sets its sail.

Hunting always cleared your mind, which, at that moment, was racing with thoughts of feelings you’d never experienced before. It wasn’t the fear of attraction that bothered you, but the fear of who you’d grown such a sensitivity toward. It would be easy if Mizu was just a lone samurai, someone wandering through life, a man, but she was none of those things and you were but a woman.

You’d been stalking your prey for a few miles, a serow that looked large enough for four meals between two people. Clad in your lightest clothes, you blended into the snowy environment and stepped slowly so as to not startle the creature. A moment of pause and a softly spoken prayer was all that was in between the serow’s short life and its quick death. Your emotions peaked as you released your arrow and the animal hit the ground, its breaths stuttering wetly as blood filled its chest. The pure white snow tainted red as you kneeled and slipped your knife from where it rested in its holster before promptly goring open the beast’s neck, killing it instantly.

You sat in the snow, waiting until the serow bled out enough for you to take it back, and began to think. You had very little, living in the woods alone, but it seemed to you so did Mizu. You were unsure if she even felt that way about other women as you had just discovered it was possible yourself. Mizu had incontestable skill, having claimed to have killed the Thousand-Claw Army single-handedly and suffered only a single serious injury. To you, she meant safety, security, and companionship, but what could you offer other than a home you were unsure she even wanted to come back to?

“Give me strength,” You called out to the universe and stood, bearing the weight of your future dinner on your back.

It was a difficult hike home but you were greeted by an up-and-about Mizu when you managed to open the door and throw down the serow.

“I made tea,” She announced, gesturing lamely to the steaming pot, uneasy at your sudden entrance.

You smiled and removed your scarf, brushing snow off of you and onto the floor in the process. “I can see that. Thank you.”

She nodded at your gratitude, her eyes not quite meeting your own. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to skin and carve this, then I can get started on dinner,” You moved to begin your task but Mizu stopped you.

“I can skin it. You rest.”

Your shoulders sagged with a relief you didn’t know you would feel and you smiled at her once again. You took your time undressing down to a single kimono and looked back to see Mizu butchering the pelt of your kill.

You gasped and Mizu stopped, startled as she looked up. “What?”

“Have you ever skinned an animal before?” You accused, taking three short strides over to her.

“Yes!” She defends. “Just nothing ever this large.”

You walk behind her and place your hand over hers. “Here, like this.”

Her hands are warmer than yours, but rougher, hardened by years of training and being on the road. She was slightly taller than you, forcing you to lean your head on the side of her arm in order to see what you were guiding her to do. You feigned intense focus while skinning the animal to combat the feeling that Mizu’s stolen and frequent glances gave you. 

“Where is the man you live with?” She asked suddenly, causing you to stop your movements and remove yourself from behind her, too distracted in such close proximity.

Your heart clenched and you sighed. “Dead. My father got sick a month after the first snow.”

“My condolences.”

“I just realized you’re the first person I’ve spoken to since he died.” You laughed mournfully.

A dark look passed over Mizu’s face and she handed you the knife, gesturing for you to finish the skinning with your superior ability. “Let’s finish dinner.”

- ⚔ -

Your third meal together was nothing special, grilled meat and rice being all you had to get through the winter. The days were growing shorter and your energy with it, not to mention the strain healing took on Mizu and you as her unstudied nurse, left the both of you exhausted and ready to go to bed. Though your eyes drooped when you laid down, you couldn’t manage to find sleep, instead tossing and turning as Mizu slept soundlessly across from you.

A deep yawn tore itself from you and finally, you felt yourself relax into your slumber. Little by little your eyes closed and your breath slowed, as you were lulled by the crackle of the fire. This was until Mizu’s voice echoed throughout the room.

“I need you to know, I am on the path of revenge. There’s no place on it for friendship…or love.”

You were hazy with sleep but the admission hurt. “I understand.”

“I’m planning on leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

What else could you say?

The room retired to its previous silence but now you were fully awake and your heart pounded over what Mizu said truly meant to you. The little life you had constructed in your mind vanished into thin air, thoughts racing and consumed with every question you would never be able to ask her.

It was when you accepted you’d never see her again that you spoke. “I feel it's easier to talk in the dark so now I will ask: why do you dress as a man?”

Three seconds go by and Mizu fails to respond, making you assume she was either asleep or ignoring your question. When you’d all but given up hope she responded. “Because of my birth. And because it's difficult to be a woman in this world.”

“It is. After winter, I don’t know what I will do without my father. I have no chaperone to travel with and once spring comes and the roads become busy, I will have no assurance of my safety.” You curled in on yourself a bit tighter than before, your eyes welling up with tears.

“You have your bow and this house. That's more than many.” Her graveled voice sounded almost condescending and you were annoyed.

“More for a man, less for a woman.” You argued, turning to look at her.

Sensing your growing anger, you took a breath and opted not to continue the conversation instead looking angrily at the sword-wielding woman before screwing your eyes shut.

She cleared her throat and you opened your eyes once again, her pale eyes meeting yours before she spoke. “What happened to your mother?”

You sighed, decidedly finished with the conversation but Mizu didn't seem to catch on. “She died in childbirth.”

“You could always marry,” She suggested. “I was married once.”

Your brows set though the admission surprised you. “And now you’re dressed as a man in a pursuit for revenge,” Mizu gave you a look of defeat and you leveled with her. “I would be shackled to my husband and I have no desire for kids. I wish to live freely.”

Mizu’s eyes seemed to shine for a moment before she spoke. “You remind me of a princess I knew.”

- ⚔ -

Mizu had been antsy all day. Sewing up her clothes, checking and rechecking her wounds, stretching and eating her fill, all in preparation to leave you the next morning. You could assume she never stayed anywhere as long as she’d stayed in your home so you could understand why she felt that way though it didn’t help the growing pit in your stomach. You couldn’t wrap your head around it; you’d barely known her for three days and already you were, dare you say, truly sad she was leaving.

When seeing her pack became too much to bear, you used hunting as an excuse to leave, not bothering to go very far, but to a boulder you often frequented when you needed to sit in silence. The view was beautiful, overlooking a shallow valley that was currently coated in a layer of white, a calming sight while you attempted to reacclimate your mind to the reality of your solitude. Mizu was nothing more than a dream that you’d conjured up in order to live your fantasy life of freedom with. You should’ve known better.

When you got back to your house and walked in, Mizu looked you over and frowned. “Nothing today?”

You sighed, feigning defeat. “No, but I have more than enough for now,” Giving her a falsely nonchalant look you shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll need to go out again until after you leave.”

Silenced for a moment, Mizu just nodded and handed you a cup of tea. It seemed to have become a sort of ritual, her making you tea whenever you came back from a hunt. It was welcome and something you could get used to if the universe let you. Instead, you bowed your head in thanks and took a sip, pleasantly surprised to find it was made to your liking.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Mizu graced you with a small smile and your eyebrows shot up but you quickly turned to hide your quiet awe.

You moved over to your food storage and tried to come up with a meal that would be a worthy send-off of your limited time together but came up short. It would be meat and rice again though Mizu never showed any indication of being dissatisfied. Stubbornly, you rifled through your shelves and when your hand met glass and you realized it was a bottle of saké you smiled.

“Unfortunately it’ll be another meal of stew and rice but I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. Now seems as good as any.” You held up the bottle and Mizu looked dubious.

“I–I don’t drink,” She tried to deny you but you weren’t taking no for an answer.

You placed a hand on your hip and cocked it, looking at her unamused. “I think as payment for my food and hospitality you owe me this favor.” She looked conflicted but with an expectant raise of your eyebrows, she gave in. 

“I suppose one would be okay.”

Dinner was mediocre but drink after drink, you and Mizu became more comfortable with each other and much to your amazement, began sharing stories.

“So…who was your rival again?” You wondered, almost sure she had already told you.

“He’s not my rival,” She mocked, rolling her eyes. “He’s just a samurai who I defeated in battle and has been chasing me around demanding a rematch so he can regain his honor.” Mizu seemed exacerbated at the prospect and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Why don’t you just fight him again?” You deadpanned. “I’m sure he’d leave you alone once he got what he wanted.”

“Because he wants to fight to the death, it would be him or me.” Mizu sobered up at that statement and swiftly downed another cup of saké.

“But…you defeated the Thousand-Claw Army alone,” You slowly put the pieces together and began to nod. “I understand.”

“He could be a good man, he just needs to let himself.”

That reminded you of a time in your childhood when your father was still young and strong, lending you wisdom that turned you into the woman you are today. Flashes of a house on the corner of a street, and a little girl with two missing teeth shot through your mind and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“That reminds me of something my father used to say,” You smiled at the memory and continued. “When I was little and we still lived in Mihonoseki, I lost my two front teeth at the same time and this girl who lived near me kept making fun of me.”

“What does that have to do with your–” Mizu hiccupped, looking confused. “Your father?”

“If you’d let me finish! So…she kept making fun of me and I made a plan to mess with her and when my father found out he told me,” You deepened your voice, attempting to imitate the way your father spoke with utmost sternness. “‘Daughter, you may be the more honorable, you need only allow yourself to be.’”

There was a moment of pause before the two of you burst into laughter. Though Mizu’s was much quieter, you were endeared by the sound. Your grin felt as though it would split your face if it got any wider and Mizu looked at you flustered.

“I like your laugh.” You found yourself giggling and when you tried to scoot closer to Mizu, the room spun.

She caught you as you swayed but nearly toppled over herself in turn. You found yourself grasping onto Mizu and she onto you, alone in your home as a blizzard raged on outside. You stared brazenly into her eyes, at a color you didn’t think you’d ever become accustomed to.

“Mizu, I–” Your voice failed when you attempted to continue, a lump forming in your throat when her gaze traveled to your lips as you spoke.

You’d thought about it once already, stopping yourself before the thought could develop but now, when you were a little more than drunk on saké, you couldn’t help yourself. A single tick of time went by, eyes flashing from Mizu’s mouth to her eyes and back before you were pressing your lips to hers.

She inhaled sharply at the contact but you pressed on, opening your mouth to her and sliding a hand around her neck. Mizu tentatively slid her own around your waist and gave an almost experimental squeeze as she deepened the kiss, letting her tongue trace yours and forcing a moan from your throat.

When she heard the noise it was as if Mizu was spurred on, advancing on you in a way you didn't think a woman in her state was capable of. Your back was pressed into the ground as she hovered above you, a heated look on her now more delicate-looking features before she descended upon you again. Her mouth was soft in a way her grasp was not as she trailed kisses down your neck, a moan escaping her lips when she sucked on a particularly sensitive spot and you pulled at the hair on her nape, loosening her bun in the process. Your hand cupped her jaw as you brought her mouth back to your own and stole another kiss.

Reaching up, you tugged the remainder of her hair down, allowing it to cascade over you like an inky waterfall. Mizu smiled as you tucked a strand behind her ear and kissed her once more. It wasn’t until you both had your fill that your actions began to slow and you saw her lips red with desire and knew your own likely matched, not to mention the state of your neck. You lay together in front of the fire, your head on her unbound chest as she traced unconscious patterns into your shoulder where your kimono had slipped during your escapades.

You reveled in the heat of her and the tingles she left in the wake of her touch, though knew she’d be gone when you woke and decided to ask your next question on a whim of hope. “If you think of me, even once after you leave, come back to me when you’ve found your revenge.”

You felt Mizu’s head angle towards your ear as she whispered two words: “I will.”

In the realm between, past and present intertwined, where a restless soul confined, seeks justice unforeseen.

Part Ⅱ: Spring

Beneath the sapphire moon, shadows dance in shades of blue, where love once bloomed, now askew, a blue blade gleams, a fateful tune.

Spring had been bountiful for you, animals re-emerged from the frost and the warming temperatures made it easy to forage. With the changing seasons came a margin of sadness in the lack of a certain samurai’s return. The roads had picked up some traffic but all had just been harmless travelers, no bandits busting down your door to attack you which you were grateful for but never had you been so disappointed someone didn’t come knocking. With a sigh, you shook your head, having no reason to expect Mizu to come back, especially considering you had no actual details on where she was going or how long she’d be away.

You managed a few martens in the short time you’d been out and decided it was enough for a decent meal. With a soft huff, you slugged your bow over your shoulder and began the hike back home, your stomach rumbling at your lack of midday meal.

The walk was no more than thirty minutes, cherry blossoms swaying in the wind and the soft earth beneath your feet lended to the tranquil mood. Your house was looking a little worse for wear after the snow had melted: the roof needed to be repaired, and a loose step in the porch stairs somehow always managed to trip you when you went out. Skipping that board on the way up, you pushed open your door and were met with a familiar sight.

Striking blue met yours as you saw Mizu standing in the center of the room, a pot of tea and two cups resting on the table to the right of her. Before you could manage to speak, your body carried you to her, dropping everything you held in the process to take her in your arms.

A small oomph sounded from Mizu as you collided with her and her hand came up to rest on the back of your head, you having already buried it in her shoulder. The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, just reveling in the feeling of your togetherness before you pulled back, though only far enough to be able to meet her eyes. Her bangs were longer, covering her forehead and you noticed she was without her sword.

It was a silent conversation only shared between the flitting of your eyes but when Mizu’s settled her lips captured yours. You’d longed for the moment you’d once again be endowed with the plushness of her lips and at the contact tears welled up in your eyes. Your mouths danced together and one of Mizu’s hands went to cradle your face, the other holding you firmly to her as she took control of your mouth. Her touch burned, kiss after kiss marring your skin and ruining you for anyone else.

“How have you been?” She asked, her voice lighter than you remembered.

“I’ve been well,” You chuckled wetly. “And you?”

Her eyes closed momentarily and she stroked your cheek with her thumb. “Still walking the same path I have my entire life.”

This puzzled you, having not expected to see her until she’d completed her mission. “You didn’t get your revenge?” Your shoulders sagged when Mizu shook her head, and you gave her a soft peck on the lips in apology.

“I trust Ringo found you?” She looked genuinely curious and memories of a handless man coming to you with rice, beans, and a travel pass resurfaced.

“You sent him?” You smiled but were still confused. “Who is he?” The man had brought you gifts and cooked the best noodles you ever had in your life before leaving and claiming he would be back in a few month's time.

Mizu nodded, letting your face go but sliding her hand from across your back and sliding it into your own. “My apprentice. He accompanied me on my travels. Before I ventured into Edo, I gave him instructions to find you should I not return.”

“Not return? But–” 

Mizu handed you the cup of forgotten tea, effectively cutting you off and you took an annoyed sip. “You’re the only person I had to see before I leave.”

The tea lodged in your throat at the admission, sending you into a coughing fit as you tried to clear the liquid from your lungs. “Leave? Leave where?”

A haunted look passed over her eyes, darkening them. “My path diverged in Edo. I chose the sea and tomorrow…I’m headed to London.”

“London?” All of a sudden you felt the same as you did that night all those months ago.

After some much-needed discussion, Mizu explained what she had set out to do and the vow she made to her mother when she was a child. You understood, how could you not? With every chop of your knife, dinner came together and you learned more about the woman you devoted so many sleepless nights to. Four white men, a quest for revenge, and a chance to gain it across the sea. 

Mizu looked away from you when she spoke her next admission. “The shogun is dead. Edo burned.”

Your eyes shot up from your work and a sharp pain sliced through the backs of your fingers as you brought your knife down onto them. A hand reached out and Mizu was already tugging the white scarf from around her neck to wrap around your hand. She looked startled at the sight of your blood but you assumed she was used to it by now. She handled you delicately, enveloping your injury gently but snug enough that you trusted it would not come undone. Your attention was momentarily diverted before you processed what Miza had said, questions darting around your mind.

“The shogun is dead and Edo burned?”

“There was a coup, but I stopped the man in charge.” She seemed pleased by the outcome and you were in awe of the feat.

“And the city?”

Her expression dimmed and Mizu rubbed her eyes. “I started the fire…and it raged.”

A meal finally suitable for a goodbye–because that’s what this was–was ready in another fifteen minutes, most of which was filled with soft looks and stolen kisses, the pain and fear from hearing of Mizu’s narrow escape melting away with each one. You ate in companionable silence as they often came more naturally than conversation to the two of you. 

- ⚔ -

Through the veil of time dire, the pale visage lingers on, a tale of love, now gone, in shadows of a haunted pyre.

Once the meal was finished and you’d both taken the time to clean up, Mizu took your hand and led you to your spot in front of the fireplace. She did little more than let you rest against her, savoring your touch as she nuzzled into your neck, dropping small kisses onto your skin. When you tried to touch or reciprocate Mizu tenderly denied the advances, letting all her focus stay rooted on you.

“I’ll be gone before you wake,” Mizu murmured as she caressed you.

You knew as much, having been told not an hour before but the reminder stung. “I know.”

She grabbed your face, turning it so you could do nothing but study her as she did you, your eyes locked on one another. Her expression shifted from a subtle longing to an unabashed look of want and seized your lips with an intensity that she had never allotted herself with you. Mizu licked into your mouth, tasting of the food you made and the tea she prepared, and dwelled on what it would be like if this was the rest of your life.

“Let me do this for you,” She rasped, her hot breath fanning over you. “Let’s make the most of tonight.”

Her fingers ghosted over your body until she reached the ties of your kimono and looked to you for permission. Understanding the silent question you nod, letting her undo the knots and reveal yourself to her. Mizu hovered over you, one arm supporting her weight and the other fondling your chest as she tasted your skin. Your arousal was almost uncontainable, your core throbbing at every touch, mewls and groans barely kept to yourself as the woman continued to shower you in affection.

“Mizu,” You couldn’t help but gasp when she slipped her hand between your legs and began to touch you.

Your composure slipped entirely when her fingers entered you and you clung to Mizu, nails scraping over her still-clothed body. You distantly knew you wanted to see more of her but failed to scrape together coherency as she thrust in and out of you, curling her fingers as she did so. Her thumb was massaging a toe-curling circle of pleasure and it was all too soon before you were reaching a peak. Breathy moans escaped you and Mizu swallowed them with hot kisses, noises of her own making their way to your ears as she took care of you.

Your loud cries echoed around the room as you came, clenching down on Mizu’s fingers though she rode you out until you were practically begging her to remove her hand. She smoothed her hand over your flushed face and whispered soothing words of praise as you returned to yourself.

“Beautiful,” She smiled, kissing each of your cheeks and then your lips. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” You tittered weakly. “I’m doing quite well.”

Mizu busied her hands by tying you back up and retrieving a blanket for the two of you to rest. “Good. I didn’t know if that was too much.” Her nervous tone was odd to you, given how easily she took control.

You gave her a peck to the cheek and took a breath to stare into her eyes that you’d grown to love. “It was perfect”

As you lay there, wrapped in Mizu’s arms and unsure of the future, you echoed to her a question you’d asked before.

“Will you come back to me?”

“I will.”

Yet, in the azure dawn, hope emerges, love reborn, fulfilling desires anew, as life unfolds, bright and true.

[silentium-symphony]

Now Watch Me Whip I (Link x Reader)

(a/n) sorry i had to

wrote w totk in mind. idk i liked the idea of link *finally* being recognized for his heroism and good deeds (after all he's been through at least say thanks to the poor man dear god)

i once again had to split it into separate parts. the next part will be linked here when it's ready <3

cw: afab!reader, somewhat violent, mentions of blood and decapitation (descriptions of decapitation were not *too* explicit but still), reader has a panic attack, link comforts and soothes reader

wc: 2.8k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Link stared at the Purah Pad, a critical glint aimed at the piece of technology. Multi-colored markers dotted the virtual topography of Hyrule, carefully marking all the places he wanted to visit. He was running low on supplies but, if paced properly, the nearest town should only be a half day's trip... But there's also that shrine over there practically begging to be explored. Before he does any of that, however, he should head over to the nearest stable and let Epona rest... However, the closest stable is probably one? Two? days away... Decisions, decisions...

The faint clang of metal against metal shuddered the shell of his ear and his eyes shot up warily. He scanned his immediate area and slogged off the rock he had been sitting on; pausing, listening, waiting.

A few moments passed and he chalked the sound of battle to his imagina--

Shing!

A leg had swung over Epona's back and within a matter of seconds, he was dashing straight towards the sound of conflict.

He rode straight for awhile, trained eyes skimming the horizon for a sign of life in these desolate fields. He rounded a corner and saw a camp of agitated Bokoblins bobbing menacingly around a traveler. He slid off Epona and charged into battle, gripping the handle of his shield until his knuckles whitened.

An unfamiliar sound rang off the vast canyon's walls, followed by the familiar whine of a slain Bokoblin. He somersaulted backwards, his shield masking his face and chest as he scoped the area for extra enemies.

He heard it again, like a crack against the air itself, and he saw the monstrous figure grasp its eye. A bloodcurdling scream shook his core as the wavering Bokoblin dipped just enough to see the features of his rescuee.

Intense (E/C) eyes burrowed into the Bokoblin's skin as a thick, brown chord wrapped around its neck. With a hefty grunt and a flick of your arm, it faceplanted into the ground unmoving.

Is... Is that a--

"Look out!"

The fierce look in your eyes snapped into alarm as you came face-to-face with the long snout of a Moblin and a metal spear swinging straight for your head. No way you could dodge this in time; you leaned back, offering up the shoulder of your non-dominant hand to the beating. Your eyes instinctively closed as you braced for impact.

Instead, you felt a whizz slice the air by your cheek and two arrows lodged into the Moblin's hand and its face. The monster dropped the weapon, grasping its hand and bellowing in pain while a flurry of footsteps stormed towards you. With a single swipe and a war cry from your new companion, the Moblin staggered back.

Careful footsteps shuffled about the towering figure, which threw its long arms at the man. He dodged the attack with ease, his graceful footwork looking more like he was engaged in dance than combat. The Moblin snapped the thin arrow sticking through its hand and shrieked, deafening and temporarily stunning you. It grabbed the spear from earlier and waved it menacingly at your rescuer.

"Oh no you don't!" Your whip loosened its deadly grip on your previous victim, snapped to life, and wound about the metal shaft of the pole. Both pairs of eyes shunted to you in a look of surprise and confusion. You took a few steps back and threw your arm as high as you could, pulling the weapon right from its hand; a piercing, metallic clamor sang the songs of victory. A smirk pulled the blonde's lips as a practiced slice to the back of the beast's knees anchored it to one spot. Catapulting off its back, the warrior helixed into the air and divorced the Moblin's head from the rest of its body in one clean swipe.

Your somewhat struggling breathing filled the space between you and the warrior. His broad shoulders heaved slightly, but he was nowhere near as taxed as you. You swallowed, lubricating your throat with some much-needed moisture before opening your mouth.

"Thank you for your help. You saved me."

The man slowly turned to face you, locking intense blues with your own. His long, blonde locks softened his sharp jawline into a less intimidating profile. His torn tunic hung deliciously loosely on his left shoulder, which proudly showcased his charred arm; your stomach turned.

"Oh gods, you're hurt! Hang on, let me--"

A scorching pain shot through your shoulder as your whole body jolted forward, your body suspended at an angle as something cold and metal rended your flesh from your bones. Blood sputtered out of your mouth; you absently watched as crimson drops stained the earth below you. A high-pitched ringing muffled the cry of alarm—yours or your companion's, you had no idea. Your savior's handsome features contorted into fear and aggression as he dispatched your murderer with an unholy fury. An airy sigh lapsed your lips before your legs gave out from under you, grip slackening, whip falling, vision darkening.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

Oh Hylia, this was all his fault.

His arms caught your falling frame, gingerly cradling you while the severed head of the previously choked Bokoblin rolled down the hill. Splurges of blood continuously gushed out of the see-through hole on your shoulder and he pressed on the wound in vain, your warm blood soaking his fingers.

He had let his guard down.

A slightly trembling hand scoured his sack, feeling for the glass tincture that carried the life-saving potion. A familiar roundness slipped into his palm and he pulled the bottle out of his pouch. A windless prayer to the gods left his heaving form, teething the corked bottle and popping it open.

How many lives must be lost before he can finally seek retribution for his damned soul?

He pinched your cheeks to allow half of its contents to slither down your throat and poured the other half directly onto the wound. The red from the potion mixed indistinctly with your blood as he wrapped a tight bandage over your shoulder. A clear whistle shot through the air, followed by a whinny and a closing-in gallop. With a smooth motion, Link threw the both of you onto Epona and raced far away from the brutalized Bokoblin camp.

If only he had been more careful.

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The pleasant crackling of a fire were the first sensations you felt tickle your body. A thick, furry strip of cloth was slotted in your hand and your fingers twitched over the fabric dreamily. As these earthly sensations began pulling you out of your long slumber, you felt your body sink through the dark void that had cased your soul since what felt like time immemorial, finally resting atop a warm, squishy mattress. Voices you didn't recognize began bleeding into your conscious mind and you willed an eyelid open.

An unfamiliar wooden ceiling greeted you. You hardly had time to register the gnarled structure before a searing pain shot through your core. What felt like the flames of Hell centered in on a single spot on your shoulder, ravishing its heat throughout the rest of your body. You winced and sucked in a gasp, writhing the parts of you that can move in positions you hoped would abate the growing pains shooting through your limbs.

A rough hand gently laid atop your forehead and smoothed the flyaways sticking this way and that. It was so... tender. So soft. Their hand moved as if you would shatter into a thousand pieces. A groan of sorts left your mouth and you sunk further into the sheets, exhaustion outweighing the pain in your bones.

Link patted the beads of sweat forming on your brow with his towel and dipped it in a bowl of fresh water. The wet cloth dabbed the thin slice on your forehead and your eyelids twitched. He paused his ministrations, watching your face go from a pained grimace to blank. Wary eyes drifted toward your freshly-wrapped bandages, a wave of guilt sucker punching him in the gut. His face physically contorted as he looked away, sighing and standing up. Perhaps he'll start on dinner...

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

With a soft click, your door breathed open just enough for Link to slip through. His back pressed the door close and he ambled to your steadily breathing form; at least you've stabilized. He simultaneously worried and prayed for your wake, knowing that the first few moments of consciousness would feel like your soul was being severed from your body. He set your meal down on your bedside and went over to the little table in the corner with his bowl. He ate slowly, his mind replaying the fight in his head up until the point where it all went dark.

He should have seen the faint twitch of the downed Bokoblin. He should have heard its gurgles and the faint sound of lance against stone. He was the Hero of Hyrule--he was supposed to be ready for anything. With an injury like that, your arm may only serve as decoration to your side for the rest of your days. Once again, he had failed. Failed to keep Hyrule's people safe from--

A guttural groan.

His ears twitched, every sound suddenly magnified by the thousands. The legs of his chairs screeched while slowly inched towards your undoubtedly trembling form.

You fought to do the simple act of opening your eyes, and the worst pain of your life unfortunately began making its rounds again. A numbing, burning sensation coated your dominant arm while a malaise that turned you nauseous sunk into your gut. You could feel your arm was there, but also... not. What in Hylia's name happened to you?

A pair of cautious eyes hovered over you.

Your weary senses heightened as every sight, smell, and sound bombarded you in an unremitting onslaught. Where were you? Who was this man? Where was your whip? How did you even get here?

The stranger placed a hand on your good shoulder, stilling your erratic motions lest you reopen the wound.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're safe."

He did his best to gently lay you back onto the sheets, but you twisted under him.

"W-Where am I... And who are--" Your heart fluttered. "L-... Link?"

It was his turn to look at you with suspicion. The gymnastics his brain had to go through to fish you from his recollections. He's met hundreds of people and while he was relatively good with matching faces to names, there may have been a few that slipped past him.

But surely he would remember someone as pretty unique as you.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir!"

Sir? Wait why'd that lowkey turn him on--

A pair of blues scanned your face closely. You were around his age, maybe just a smidgen younger... But also, technically, he was over a 100 years old... Do people know that? Is that common knowledge?

He awkwardly chuckled and threw his hands back, waving the formality away.

"Have we... Met before...?"

"Oh!" You cast your eyes to the side, slightly reddening. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out like that! I'm (F/N). And no, we... haven't formally met before--but how can I not know you, sir? What you've done for Hyrule is known far and wide!"

You bowed your head reverently, but that simple motion triggered an intense wave of vertigo to slam into you. Your body suddenly felt limp and you rolled your head back, nestling into the pillow. Link practically teleported to your side.

"I'm flattered, but please don't move around so much." His gut churned. "You could reopen your wounds."

"Mm... Right..." You finally looked at the injuries you sustained--but what really caught your eye were the piles and piles of soaked bandages in the trashcan. Your chest tightened at all the red that seeped from the previously snow-white cloth.

"What... happened to me...?"

Link swallowed what felt like a boulder, his heart clenching his chest.

"You got seriously injured during the fight. I had thought I lost you multiple times on our ride back."

"My arm," you forced the appendage to move--to twitch even--but to no avail, "I-I can't move my arm!"

The image of your arm lying uselessly on the bed chucked your mind into a frenzy and panicked, erratic heaves seized your chest. Without your arm, you can't use your whip--and without your whip, how were you to fend for yourself against the ghouls that roamed Hyrule?

"Hey, hey, it's okay." A squeeze. "You'll be okay. You'll be okay. Just take a deep breath for me, all right?"

Frustrated, terrified tears leaked down your cheeks as you contracted your arm to do something, anything.

"I can't--my arm--"

"I know, I know. Look at me and breathe, okay? Just look at me and breathe."

It wasn't working. He could see the familiar spiral of shock wearing away in your eyes; it reminded him of the same frightened, confounded expression soldiers had when the realization of losing a part of themselves to the happenings of war sunk in.

Instead of smacking and screaming at you to get your bearings (he could still feel the sting of his commanding officer's hand), he did something that he yearned someone had done for him.

"I'm sorry for this...!"

He drew you into a tender embrace. His chest muffled your haggard hyperventilating and he ran his fingers through your knotted hair, gently working through them to prevent any more discomfort. He teetered back and forth, hoping the gentle sway could further act as an anchor for your racing mind to latch onto. With each panicked breath, you breathed in more and more of his scent. He smelled of meadows basking under the morning light, tinged with hints of dew and musk. Like a warm, summer day.

The mental imagery his scent conjured up was the first hit of solace your sprinting mind needed to begin to ground itself. Your good hand balled the soft blanket into the tightest fist you could muster; you relaxed your grip after one, two, three sways. Your mind trailed to the digits shifting through your hair, feeling how his fingers ran the same path on your scalp. You kept breathing. Breathing. Breathing.

Before long, you were no longer fighting for your next breath and your shaking body had stilled. Fatigue weighed your features into a vacant expression, the only form of movement being an occasional quiver on your lip or your sniffling nose.

"There... Just like that... You okay?"

He thought he saw your chin dip slightly.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that... It's really, really painful and scary." He pulled away and set a hand on your head, smiling softly. "But I'm proud of you for navigating it."

A look of gratitude glimmered in your eye before the dazed look overtook it.

"Without my arm, I can't use my whip... And without my whip," a shudder. "I won't last a night out there."

"You can stay here until you get better. I can pay for your stay."

"No!" You latched onto him, pleading. "I can't ask you to do that for me. Who knows how long I'm to be here? And I can't possibly ever hope to repay you, even if I still had my wallet..."

"You do not need to repay me for anything," he beamed, "your name is enough. But..."

His expression darkened with concern.

"You said you lost your wallet? Is that the only thing you lost?"

Your heart sank to the pits of your stomach. He didn't see your satchel.

"You... You didn't happen to snag the pouch behind the wooden crate, did you?"

The blank look on his face didn't last very long, twisting into regret.

"I'm sorry, I--"

"No, it's okay! You didn't know. And I was literally bleeding out, so..." You laughed sadly. "But yeah... everything is in that pouch."

The traces of an idea began fogging his thoughts.

"How did you lose it?"

"W-Well..." You looked away sheepishly. "I was resting by the side of a cliff and, um... I may or may not have accidentally knocked it off the cliff... And by the time I got down there, Bokoblins may or may not have already ran off with it..."

You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed deeply, frustration evident in your brow.

"I suppose it's just lost forever. No way I can go back there in this state. By the time I'm all healed, all my stuff will be long gone."

A half-baked plan had finished brewing in his noggin and he took care to not make it seem he was smiling at your misery.

"I wouldn't say all is lost. After all, you don't know who or what will find it. Maybe they'll bring it back here."

[goldentigerfestival]

The 30 day Tales challenge... in one post or else it would never get done!

Favorite Tales game: Legendia

Favorite Main Male Hero: Yuri and Senel

Favorite Main Female Hero: Kohaku

Favorite Side Male Character: Moses

Favorite Side Female Character: Stella

Favorite Canon Pairing: Senel/Stella + Shing/Kohaku

Favorite Non-Canon Pairing: how official is stahn/leon at this point i wonder

Favorite Opening Song: Destiny

Favorite Location: ??? idfk the entire Legacy??? I'll go with Werites Beacon for simplicity I guess. feels like home

Favorite Mascot: Giet. don't tell me he's not a mascot, I'm not listening. (and if you want to try having that discussion my answer is still the Oresoren so we're not getting far, are we)

Favorite Monster: ??? also dfk, probably something cute except i don't like hurting cute so i guess we're stuck

Favorite Boss Battle: UHHHH listen it hurts to say but Vicious; bc the raw emotion that went into that entire storyline ate me whole

Favorite Villain: since I'm avoiding antagonists here (such as Duke who aren't explicitly villains) and prefer to go full villain, Creed.

Least Liked Character: not opening THAT can of worms!!! :D

Your First Tales Game: boooo boriiiing. Symphonia like the other half of the western population. no fancy answer here

Your Favorite Scene: ??? I mean, there's... a lot I guess??? Stahn pleading with Leon moments before disaster??? Kanata crying that Vicious was okay and came back to them??? Moses saying literally anything ever in any scene ever??? the end of Innocence but when you choose Spada as your soulmate bc I'm a bias little fuck??? anything with Yuri and Flynn being happy together??? the entirety of Legendia???

Funniest Scene: idk but it either had Moses in it, Vicious in it, or it was Spada's "I can't believe you mixed up Frosty the Snowman with the Abominable Snowman"

Saddest Scene: Moses' Character Quest cutscene (if not the whole fucking CQ), moments during disaster with Leon, moments during disaster with Asch

Favorite Quote: a lot of stuff Vicious said ngl. can't think of nor pick one off the top of my head but every time he Gets Serious it's one of those and I fall in love further every single time. but if we wanna be REEEALLY simple? "Yeehaw". thanks, Moses. maybe Yuri has said something cool enough to get on the top list, but I'm not sure anything is trumping "yeehaw", and maybe that's equal to something Vicious said

Favorite Piece of Gameplay Music: Scutum - Decisive Battle. Pour one out for Rebirth having the fucking BEST battle theme ever.

Most Shocking Reveal: ??? I'm... not sure at this point. Giet??? was it Senel??? maybe Mathias and Ruca??? Ratatosk and Emil??? I kind of want to say Ratatosk and Emil because I remember being very impressed with the direction of the plot, in that the main protagonist/player character was actually the villain the whole time that the antagonist was trying to kill the whole time. definitely not a plot direction you usually get in JRPGs. Giet's story still hit like an entire brick building 100 storeys high falling on me though

Favorite One on One Fight: that was actually FUN??? uhhh idk Vicious against Kasque. what did you expect me to say???

Favorite Skit: way too many skits to have even a semblance of an idea. I'm going to assume it was either something related to Yuri and Flynn, Moses, Vicious, Spada or Stahn. that's about the closest I can pinpoint

Favorite Tales Spell: I don't... think I have one...

Favorite Tales Weapon: -bangs fist on desk and gets really obvious really fast- BLOOD SINS, BLOOD SINS, BLOOD SINS. after that the Swordians

Tales World You Want to Live In: honestly Legendia's and Graces' seem the most reasonably normal compared to the rest, but also shiny fingertips and Moses is a pretty solid Legendia

Favorite Animated Tales Series/OVA: (don't say rays don't say rays don't say rays don't say stahn/leon) probably First Strike if only because it focuses on Yuri and Flynn who I love, but Abyss' anime was very solid compared to the other Tales animated series that were just heavily condensed versions (or worse in Eternia's case, not even being relevant to the main story). like, I would not recommend the animated series to anyone prior to playing the game except for Abyss, which is the full major story and I have inarguably rewatched that anime more than I've played the game. I guess in terms of general animated, FS, but in terms of actual consistency to the game it came from and dedication it had in retelling the story faithfully without skipping 80 percent of it, Abyss

Favorite Tales Outfit: RICHARD??? HEEEELLO??? not arc F though that shit is too fruity for me. also Leon has VERY enjoyably bright colors that make him stand out and as a Very Deeply Definitely Not Obsessive Leon Enjoyer, I very much love that. Aegis also has a really nice outfit. Asbel's is pretty but definitely not Richard level of I'm obsessed with this look

Favorite Game Plot: -breaks everything in your room and your neighbor's room for good measure- TURN IT BACK ON NAMCO I'M PAST MY LIMIT SO I'M PROBABLY IN OVERLIMIT (Crestoria. it's that or I'm saying Legendia again. Innocence and Hearts both are really close runner ups tho!!! definitely the most unique in the franchise imo out of the mainline games and sadly confined to "nobody fucking cares about them and never did")

Favorite Game Ending: so that's got... layers. it really depends on the sub topic. I guess in terms of a happy ending, Graces (the Wii version specifically, getting Richard back. don't really care for the ending of arc F and lean more toward disliking it). in terms of a depressing fucking ending that makes me Very Upsetti, Destiny. there is literally nothing happy about Destiny's ending for me. like yeah we saved the world, but at a LOT of cost and it's just depressing. I've wanted to make a post about that anyway, but basically it's a type of ending they don't really make anymore (especially in Tales), and the emotional impact for me was a lot heavier than the other games, with Destiny 2 lingering right behind it. both Destiny games were just DEPRESSING, and no matter how bittersweet Destiny 2's ending was, it's still DEPRESSING. Vesperia at least had a more outright happy ending (that wasn't completely changed by a post game ending arc with a totally different ending) and I finally at that point didn't lose my favorite character to Certain Final Boss Death or Recurring Side Character I Came To Love Dying Unceremoniously and Undeserved. only a couple of top favorites actually came out of their games alive for me by Vesperia in terms of games I know + release timeline (to put it into perspective, by the time of Vesperia in release order (so not the order I played in bc I don't really remember the whole actual order at this point), out of all the games I know, my favorite character death toll was five to three survivors not counting Vesperia. still haven't played Eternia so I'm not counting that one). so I guess like, my answer is a whacky combination of Graces for the Wii, Destiny and Vesperia. maybe if Hearts hadn't killed my mans off then it could've had it all. 😔

[mournus]

Silly little nymph. That small sound would have been enough - but now the sand of those pretty feet crunching on twigs and leaves? It was all too easy. Kaho remained still for a moment, aside from the smirk creeping up his face. He was giving Rhodes a head start. Wasn't that generous of him?

Catching Rhodes was not the aim. Otherwise, the other would be only a few seconds from the game being over. No. This was for the thrill. To make both of their hearts race. To push themselves to the limit. To fall deep into exhilaration and when finally on the brink of coping - to fall deep into one another and find their delicious release.

The old samurai positioned himself, each move slow, graceful, and with purpose. One leg extended further out behind him as both knees bent. The katana further unsheathed, fully free with a satisfying shing. Both hands found a comfortable position on the weapon and Kaho waited one second longer.

To a human, Kaho would simply have vanished from his spot, leaving behind nothing but the wind that rustled the grass and foot prints. To Rhodes, perhaps they would be able to see Kaho run past them a few rows of trees to the side, perhaps they'd be able to hear their predator's running. To a human, within a blink Kaho would simply have appeared once again in a different position right in front of the other.

He had swung his blade through a thick tree. Cutting down the large object between him and his sweet Rhodes. The tree fell at the angle the reaper had cut it in, slowly landing with a crash to the side. The katana was extended and the tip of the blade pointed to the other with a cocky smile.

"You smell ready to be eaten, Rhodes-chan."

there's something to be said about intimacy with a being like kaho. inhuman in the best, and human in the worst, of ways. it's a pleasure rhodes had no idea they had the privilege of indulging in-- not so freely or shamelessly. kaho wasn't just a sexual partner. not to rhodes. he was a teacher. a friend.

and only the best of friends would be willing and able to make this sickening of a fantasy a reality.

the anthusai can feel their tiny heart scrunch and beat. a rapid metronome echoing through their hollow, fragile bones. rhodes is seated against a cottonwood tree, but nonetheless ready to jump into a sprint. ae had never fit into their brood, but instincts did not need to be taught. nymphs, of course, were prey animals that could run and hide their way through most predator interactions.

most. reapers were not natural predators of nymphs, and having one at their heels made them ache with a fear laced arousal. the sound of a katana unsheathing makes blooms eyes widen, and they don't realize they've let out a small, needy mewl until they've brought a hand to their mouth in shocked panic. the noise could have been mistaken as wind dancing through the leaves, but they're sure kaho knows better. they need to run.

on light feet, rhodes sprints into the thick of the forest, looking back only briefly to gage their next course of action. it's thrilling, is the thing, that even though their nymph instincts have them winding and skipping effortlessly through the woods, that this is kaho's hunting ground. the predator in question has an upper hand rhodes can't even lock eyes with: he's stronger, faster, and sharper. oh, it makes slick drip down the inside of their thighs, rhodes bare uner the frilly little white gown they've donned for the occasion.

[moonlightrapsodia]

Protags :D

[tales-of-asteria]

[Special Gacha] Halloween Costume Duration: 10/15 (Tue) 16:00 ～ 11/3 (Sun) 15:59

Chance to get 5☆ “Awakening” and “Bond Awakening” Ludger [Halloween], Rondoline [Halloween] and Kor [Halloween], as well as 4☆ Hubert [Halloween] from the special gacha.

The already-running awakening partners Julius, Dhaos and Kohaku can be used to awaken Ludger, Rondoline and Kor respectively.

This gacha features a Step Up gacha, where you pay a discounted rate to draw 10 characters and continuously raise your chances of pulling a 5☆. Each time you get a featured character, the steps will be resetted.

In this gacha will also reappear other Bond Awakening enabled 5☆ characters. The rates of this gacha’s featured characters will be higher than other 5☆.

For the event, the single daily pull will cost 3 Asteria Stones instead of 5.

There’s also the paid option to get a guaranteed 5☆ character with a multi gacha.

(More on Awakening here, and on Bond Awakening here)

Characters artes and skills details under the cut.

Wind 5☆ Ludger Will Kresnik

Stats at LV80 (max level) HP: 20,600 | Power: 2,170 | Defense: 2,070

Mystic Arte: 祓砕斬・零水 Ritual of Destruction Power: 500% (Target: All) | Hits: 50 (high hit type)

Arte1 - ブラッディブレイズ Blaze Bloom Power: 200% (Target: All) | Hits: 4 | Activation: 45%

Arte2 - ハッピーハロウィン！ Happy Halloween! Party Heal: 35% | Activation: 35%

Arte3 - レクイエムビート Requiem Power: 400% (Target: All) | Hits: 14 | Activation: 20%

Co-op skill: Wind Attack 6 (attack type) Performs a wind physical attack with 195% of power (wait time 00:55)

Wind 6☆ Ludger Will Kresnik

Stats at LV80 (max level) HP: 23,400 | Power: 2,610 | Defense: 2,350

EX Skill: The wind party members’ attack power will be increased by 70% if their HPs are at 100%

Mystic Arte (OverLimit gauge at MAX): 祓砕斬・零水 Ritual of Destruction Power: 500% (Target: All) | Hits: 50 (high hit type) Bond Awakening Bonus: Wind members' attack +20% (1 turn)

Mystic Arte (Awakened Mode OverLimit): 祓砕斬・零水 Ritual of Destruction Power: 770% (Target: All) | Hits: 77 (finish & high hit type) Bond Awakening Bonus: Wind members' attack +40% (1 turn)

Arte effects added by Bond Awakening:

Arte1 - ブラッディブレイズ Blaze Bloom Break gauge damage +50%

Arte2 - ハッピーハロウィン！ Happy Halloween! Wind members' attack +20% (2 turns)

Arte3 - レクイエムビート Requiem Wind members' attack +40% (1 turn)

(Co-op skill is the same as the 5☆)

Water 5☆ Rondoline E. Effenberg

Stats at LV80 (max level) HP: 22,200 | Power: 1,840 | Defense: 2,160

Mystic Arte: 連波女雨纏 Renpa Jo'uten Fixed damage: 120000 (Target: All) | Hits: 50 (high hit type)

Arte1 - アイストーネード Ice Tornado Fixed Damage: 50000 (Target: Single) | Hits: 7 | Activation: 60%

Arte2 - 連波女返し Tsubame Gaeshi Fixed Damage: 100000 (Target: Single) | Hits: 12 | Activation: 25%

Arte3 - アクアキャノン Aqua Cannon Fixed Damage: 200000 (Target: Single) | Hits: 20 | Activation: 15%

Co-op skill: : Protection 3 (defense type) The user will receive 2 attacks in place of 3 targeted allies. The damage received is reduced (wait time 00:30)

Water 6☆ Rondoline E. Effenberg

Stats at LV80 (max level) HP: 26,200 | Power: 2,040 | Defense: 2,560

EX Skill: The water party members’max HP will be increased by 2000

Mystic Arte (OverLimit gauge at MAX): 連波女雨纏 Renpa Jo'uten Fixed damage: 120000 (Target: All) | Hits: 50 (high hit type) Bond Awakening Bonus: Fixed damage +80000

Mystic Arte (Awakened Mode OverLimit): 連波女雨纏 Renpa Jo'uten Fixed damage: 120000 (Target: All) | Hits: 110 (high hit type) Bond Awakening Bonus: Hit count +15

Arte effects added by Bond Awakening:

Arte1 - アイストーネード Ice Tornado Water members' attack +10% (1 turn)

Arte2 - 連波女返し Tsubame Gaeshi Inflicts paralysis to one enemy (activated turn)

Arte3 - アクアキャノン Aqua Cannon Fixed damage +100000

(Co-op skill is the same as the 5☆)

Dark 5☆ Kor Meteor

Stats at LV80 (max level) HP: 21,400 | Power: 2,150 | Defense: 2,010

Mystic Arte: 翔旺神影斬 Solar Wind Power: 440% (Target: Single) | Hits: 14 (fast OL charge type)

Arte1 - 獅吼烈破 Raging Beast Power: 200% (Target: All) | Hits: 3 | Activation: 60%

Arte2 - 星塵絶破 Streaking Comet Power: 230% (Target: All) | Hits: 7 | Activation: 30%

Arte3 - 絶破雷迅衝 Gigantic Jet Power: 370% (Target: All) | Hits: 6 | Activation: 10%

Co-op skill: High Dark Attack 6 (attack type) Performs an earth physical attack with 300% of power (wait time 05:00)

Dark 6☆ Kor Meteor

Stats at LV80 (max level) HP: 25,400 | Power: 2,550 | Defense: 2,210

EX Skill: At the end of every turn, the dark party members that received damage in that turn will have their attack power increased by 12%

Mystic Arte (OverLimit gauge at MAX): 翔旺神影斬 Solar Wind Power: 440% (Target: Single) | Hits: 14 (fast OL charge type) Bond Awakening Bonus: Break gauge damage +50%

Mystic Arte (Awakened Mode OverLimit): 翔旺神影斬 Solar Wind Power: 1140% (Target: Single) | Hits: 40 (finish & high hit type) Bond Awakening Bonus: Arte power +100%

※If a Kohaku Bond Soul is equipped, the Mystic Arte will change into a Dual Mystic Arte:

Dual Mystic Arte (OverLimit gauge at MAX): 麟凰天翔駆 Fabled Union Power: 740% (Target: Single) | Hits: 20 (finish type) Bond Awakening Bonus: Dark members' attack +20% (1 turn)

Dual Mystic Arte (Awakened Mode OverLimit): 麟凰天翔駆 Fabled Union Power: 1400% (Target: Single) | Hits: 20 (finish type) Bond Awakening Bonus: Dark members' attack +40% (1 turn)

Arte effects added by Bond Awakening:

Arte1 - 獅吼烈破 Raging Beast Heals (Self) by 25%

Arte2 - 星塵絶破 Streaking Comet Dark members' defense +20% (3 turns)

Arte3 - 絶破雷迅衝 Gigantic Jet Own power +70% (1 turn)

(Co-op skill is the same as the 5☆)

Light 4☆ Hubert Oswell

Stats at LV70 (max level) HP: 15,100 | Power: 1,770 | Defense: 1,560

Mystic Arte: アンスタンヴァルス Broadside Waltz Power: 540% (Target: Single) | Hits: 8 (finish type)

Arte1 - ミスティアーク Radial Arc Power: 180% (Target: Single) | Hits: 10 | Activation: 35%

Arte2 - クロスミラージュ Cross Mirage Power: 280% (Target: Single) | Hits: 10 | Activation: 15%

Co-op skill: Shine Shot 4 (magic type) Performs a light magic attack with 210% of power (wait time 00:50)

[probablynotasquid]

the blessing of forgiveness - finale

part 1 / part 7

thank you for everything.

“RUN!”

Screams and shouts pierced your ears, but you couldn’t hear. Your eyes were focused shakily on the man you were desperate to avoid. You knew it would happen eventually. It always did in these kinds of stories, and of course, his conviction was commendable. Across so many variations and interpretations, Zhongli had dedicated himself to the Creator, yet was ignorant to the truth. He was—is—blinded by faith. Ironic, really, how his faith was placed so confidently in the one he was now threatening.

“YOUR GRACE!”

Your legs wouldn’t move. It was happening again. Your only source of comfort and human decency is being snatched away once again. Perhaps it was selfish, but you needed to be when no one else was there for you. You needed to survive. You will survive.

So you ran.

Your muddy sneakers, worn from days of quiet walking and wandering, pounded against the ground and shook your bones as you fled. How pathetic you were, you thought, but there was no other option. Your brain was scattered, adrenaline pulsed dangerously through your veins and your gut told you to run. 

It didn’t matter where. You barely knew where you were anyway. Hours of staring at the in-game map had all but abandoned you in your time of need, forcing you to trust your intuition. 

You wove through trees, you leapt over rocks, you dove under low-hanging branches. Anything to widen the gap between you and your pursuer. The wind seemed to push you along, gently but urgently, blowing up against your back. You could only hope that Zhongli wasn’t getting the same subtle boost. 

It was foolish to run from a god.

A sharp pain broke your stride. A searing blade sliced your calf before you knew what happened. A strained scream erupted from your chest as your side slammed into the dirt, knocking the air from your lungs suddenly and harshly. You scrambled to stand, to run, to get away, but to no avail. You glanced at your injury.

A long laceration swiped from one corner to the opposite, spilling precious, glistening blood. You couldn’t run like this. You had to move. He was gaining on you. You couldn’t feel your leg. Faint footsteps became louder and clearer. Your heartbeat rang fast and desperate in your ears. You couldn’t breathe. He was right behind you. Your eyes screwed shut.

“XIAO!”

A deafening clang rang out behind you. The shrill shing of clashing metal reverberated through the forest. You scrambled back in surprise, eyes flying open and body twisting to face the sudden sound. 

Your guardian Yaksha stood protectively above you, locked in a fragile stalemate with his former comrade. The air was thick and silent, pregnant with unspoken anger and betrayal. After centuries of unwavering loyalty and service to the Lord of Geo, Xiao had broken his contract and stood against the one he once regarded with endless respect. 

Not once had you doubted your bond with Xiao. He always seemed to be watching you or your immediate surroundings, not out of distrust, but out of concern. He was quiet, but vigilant. Your vigilant Yaksha. 

But in that moment, taking in the scene before you, you had realised the true loyalty that he held towards you. You didn’t know what to think about it. Having someone trust you with the whole of their being was overwhelming. You felt the weight of responsibility weigh on your pathetic, trembling body, and you were sure that if you weren’t already on the ground, you would have fallen to your knees.

You had too much power. 

“Xiao,” Zhongli warned calmly, but the blazing pyre in his expression was difficult to mask. He would stop at nothing to see your blood sprayed across the forest, for his Creator to be avenged, to make an example out of you. His grip tightened on his spear at the thought. 

Neither man pushed harder than the other, applying just enough force to stand their ground and communicate that they will not concede. They truly did not want to fight each other—you knew this. You regretted putting them into this sensitive position. You regretted not practising more with your abilities. You regretted not learning how to defend yourself.

You regretted existing. But with Xiao’s trust relying on you, it would be foolish to let yourself die.

Xiao and Zhongli maintained their stances as you pushed yourself from the ground, gaining leverage from nearby trees. Glancing down at your injury, you’re reminded of your setback. You couldn’t run like this. Despite your mind urging you to flee, to save yourself while your hunter is occupied, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. Either way, it would be a disgrace to leave your first and most loyal acolyte alone in such a chaotic and emotional situation.

One step. Then another. You hobbled gracelessly over to the two, who, even still, kept their unwavering glares on each other. You stepped close enough to talk without shouting, but not enough to be in immediate skewering distance if something went wrong. In all likeliness, something would. 

“Please.”

Blazing gold eyes flickered in your direction. You almost flinched at the intensity of his gaze, but you were tired. You only wanted this to end. 

“Please stop.”

Neither of them deserve this. They were both just doing what they believed was right. Both were unbelievably loyal to their Creator, just on opposing sides of a misunderstanding. This was no reason to shatter what they had.

“Why are you doing this?”

You knew why. You knew that this moment would come—confronted by your most devoted follower with a spear at your neck. Some kind of narrative seed of irony had been planted in the heads of each and every person in Teyvat, and with every day it grew into the most terrible flower. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong—”

“You dare claim ignorance to your crimes?”

There was a bite to Zhongli’s tone that reminded you of just how screwed you were if this all went sideways. He had fought his way to the top. He was strong enough to protect his people and secure his place among the Seven. He was more than strong enough to enact due justice.

“You dare to sully our divine Creator’s image with your mortal sacrilege? You have no dignity or respect for the one who so graciously gave you life.”

You could see movement in the two spears, struggling against each other. You were about to reply in an attempt to calm the situation before Xiao’s voice cut through the tense air.

“It is you who lacks dignity. You act as though you know Their Grace better than anyone, and yet you stand against them.”

“Their Grace would never resort to such a weak mortal form. They are the epitome of perfection, hope, and forgiveness. Nothing that this imposter—” he spits “—could ever dream to be.”

You flinch. Zhongli’s words may be coming from a place of loyalty and misunderstanding, but they still cut through you like dull, serrated blades. You wanted to believe that he was good, that this was all a bout of obsessive devotion. You really wanted to believe, but it was hard. Flashes of anger ignited in your muscles, in your heart, in your mind, in your soul. 

You wouldn’t get through to him at this rate. You were just an imposter in his eyes. In those disgusted, scrutinising, beautiful eyes. You needed a different approach. You steeled yourself and began to speak, tone firmer than before.

“Would Their Grace appreciate such avid bloodthirst towards an innocent civilian? A person who has done nothing to cause harm, whose only crime is being born with a divine being’s face? I don’t suppose they would take too kindly to the slaughter of their own creation, with such a similar appearance to their own.” 

Zhongli’s eyes narrowed. You continued.

“I did not get to choose the face I was born with. Perhaps in the next life, I will be blessed with the same one. Will you hunt me down again? A mere child, barely taking their first steps into such a cruel world? Not even Their Grace could forgive the murder of an infant.”

You took a step, then two, then three as you approached the stalemate. You rested a gentle hand on Xiao’s tense shoulder. Your other hand reached out for Zhongli’s Vortex Vanquisher, gliding to the sharp point. Xiao’s eyes widened.

“Your Grace—!”

You pricked your finger. You slid it along the paper-thin edge, making sure to smear your blood across the blade. It burned, but you had to. You had to make a point.

The golden glow of the polearm was tainted a horrible crimson, shimmering gold in the low light of the forest. It taunted its wielder, as if asking ‘is this what you wanted?’ Zhongli could only gape at the liquid dripping down his weapon, eyes wide and grip loosening. He was wrong. He was wrong, they were all wrong, and the proof was right there in front of him. His heart sank to his feet. 

Xiao scrambled to shove him back before taking your injured hand in his own. Blood gushed from your scratch like tears, but it wasn’t fatal. He squeezed your finger between his hands to help stop the waterfall of ichor that had begun to drip onto the forest floor.

You merely smiled, raising your opposite hand to his scrunched-up face to brush away his fringe. He subconsciously leaned into your touch. 

“I’m sorry, Xiao. It seemed to be the only way.” Your gaze shifted to the Geo Archon, slumped on the ground and still processing what was going on. “I hope you can forgive me, Morax.”

At the mention of his name, he glanced up at you, eyes glassy and guilty. A flurry of emotions swirled in his eyes, and you couldn’t help but soften your gaze with pity. You turned back to Xiao, who was simply glaring at your hand. A soft chuckle bubbled up your throat before you spoke again.

“Let’s go. I don’t want to worry the others too much.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

In a flash, the two of you were gone, leaving Zhongli alone and crumbling with the consequences of his blinding belief.

— —

He didn’t see you again for a long while.

Hu Tao returned to the parlour for work the next day, and he the exorcist around the harbour, but you and that boy from the Commerce Guild were nowhere to be seen. It was as if the two of you had vanished off the face of Teyvat.

Zhongli had almost believed that Xiao had gone with you until he visited Wangshu Inn. He was standing on the uppermost terrace, looking out across the vast plains he had fought tooth and nail for, he felt the slightest shift in the air.

“What are you doing here, Rex Lapis?”

Zhongli almost grimaced when he heard the blatant distaste in the Yaksha’s familiar voice. He understood his anger completely, and truth be told, he was angry with himself as well. Was he so ignorant that he could not even recognise the Creator when they were right in front of him? Was he so proud that he could not take into account the word of his comrade, the one who fought alongside him all those years ago, who continued to uphold their contract even after all that happened?

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Their Grace wished for me to continue protecting the citizens of Liyue. They didn’t want to see our contract broken because of their failure to claim their place as the Creator.”

His guilt and self-directed frustration only worsened. 

“I apologise. Nothing I can say or do can make up for my transgressions, but I hope that one day I may have the opportunity to atone.”

Xiao was silent. He had been hesitant to let you leave on your own with just that boy, but you were insistent on keeping him in his homeland. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him around you—that you had reassured him avidly, as well as your appreciation and gratitude for everything he had done for you—but you were concerned with the possible effects of his sudden disappearance. 

It was a similar case for the other two members of your little party; Hu Tao and Chongyun both had lives to return to and essential roles to play in Liyue. As you were leaving the nation, you had to bid them goodbye for now. Rest assured, you would come back for them once you had everything figured out and things settled down. 

Xingqiu had little to do in Liyue. Sure, he was the son of a powerful merchant, but he was the second-born. He had more flexibility when it came to responsibilities. He also seemed to be the most attached to you out of the three humans, so you agreed to take him with you. With a quick explanation to his family (“I will be travelling to Inazuma for a short while.”), he was set to go, and with a solid sack of mora to boot. 

Xiao knew that he would be out of his element in Inazuma, and that he had a duty to protect Liyue, but he was bound to this duty by a contact with the man who nearly killed you. The man who had hurt you enough to force you into a limp. Perhaps he wasn’t as noble as he had first thought. 

— —

Getting a ride to Inazuma was as easy as letting Xingqiu work his rich-kid magic. You had to keep your disguise on with other people around, but it was a small price to pay. You weren’t ready for your ascension to god status just yet. Call it selfish, but you were scared. Terrified, even. You would have to assume the status, power, and responsibility that came with being the literal creator of the universe. It was a lot of pressure, simply put, and the most amount of pressure you’ve had up to this point was the crippling weight of a group project on your shoulders because everyone else didn’t do what they were supposed to. That would be nothing compared to what was in store for you.

Night had fallen and the waves cradled the vessel gently (“They ain’t usually this calm,” one of the sailors had noted a day or two ago). The air was salty and fresh and tousled your hair. You could see Inazuma in the far distance; you’ll arrive tomorrow, the crew surmised. You didn’t know whether to be excited or nervous—you were experiencing both, which made for an unpleasant gut feeling. Anticipation, you settled on after a moment. 

Honestly, Inazuma was a spur-of-the-moment destination. You figured that the isolation may have muffled the rumours of an imposter running amok, or at least you hoped. Either way, there were plenty of places to hide if things went pear-shaped. 

A heavy sigh left your lungs, and Xingqiu turned to you. 

“Your Grace?” As many times as you’ve been called that recently, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. 

“Thank you for coming with me, Xingqiu. It’s nice to have some company, you know?”

He shot you a charming, cheeky grin. You continued before he could reply.

“Honestly, it probably wasn’t the best idea, seeing as I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m worried you’ll get hurt because of my hesitance or something. But, no matter how things turn out, you know I appreciate you, right?”

It was silent between the two of you for a mere moment, and all you could hear was the crashing of waves against the hull. Xingqiu blinked in surprise, but composed himself quickly.

“Regardless of what becomes of us, I will always follow you. You have guided me before, and I trust you to guide me and the rest of Teyvat to happiness.”

His statement made you pause. Somehow, it was only in that moment that you realised the impact you have had on certain characters. They’d had faith in you, real faith. Not that sort of naive faith that some other SAGAUs had, but a real impact on those you… played? Controlled? Well, you helped them grow stronger to the point of near godhood. It was a bit ironic, you mused, that you could guide them to excellency and yet you yourself were extraordinarily weak and inexperienced. 

“I would like you to help me, if you’re up for it.”

“Anything for you, Your Grace.”

——

Thoma woke up early that day. He had a few errands to run down in Ritou, mostly concerning supplies for an upcoming festival, and he couldn’t afford to be late. The ship carrying the goods would arrive at mid-morning. So after finishing his chores for the morning, he slipped out the door and began the trek down to the harbour.

The day was young and the air was salty. The sea breeze wafted over the blond as strolled to the docks, welcoming and refreshing as always. Quiet chatter resounded through the streets as the stores and stalls began to open for the day. Sadly, he had no time to visit the owners as he had places to be and goods to pick up. 

The interaction itself was unremarkable, but what came afterward was definitely unforgettable. As he signed off on the shipment and handed over a hefty sack of mora, he caught sight of an oddly-dressed duo stepping off the ship. The broken hilichurl mask had caught his eye, sparking curiosity and a slight flicker of suspicion. It was a far cry from what a normal person would be caught wearing. He couldn’t help but ponder. 

A whisper from the masked figure’s companion flitted through the air, almost blending in with the chatter of the sailors and dock workers. Two simple syllables that captured Thoma’s full attention.

“…Your Grace…”

There was only one person with that title. One that had guided him and many others to greatness, forgave them when they didn’t perform as expected, only persisting further. But they couldn’t be in Teyvat, he would have heard—

He had heard. Rumours that spread through Ritou under the breaths of shopkeepers, uttered between housewives and across supply lines. But that’s all it was: a rumour. 

…right?

His eyes were glued to the pair as they strolled past, seemingly rushing to escape the crowd. As the masked one—the ‘imposter’, he supposes—mutters a short reply to whatever their companion had asked.

“Right. I heard that the Arataki Gang is quite accepting of outsiders, but we may need…”

Your voice. It rang in his ears like church bells and struck a chord he didn’t even register. Thoma recognised that voice, the one that reassured him and gushed about his ‘malewife behaviour’. You may not have chosen him often, but that didn’t matter. He would forever be in your debt. 

His body acted on his own as he turned to your quickly retreating form and grabbed your wrist. You flinched in his grip, voice dying suddenly in your throat and head spinning to face him in a panic. 

Your entire body malfunctioned the second your eyes focused on your assailant. You hadn’t even noticed his presence just next to the ship, focused completely on Xingqiu and planning your next move. Meeting other playable characters wasn’t supposed to happen for at least another day or two. You weren’t ready. 

Thoma wasn’t ready, either. His mind was reeling, grip steady but loose enough to pull away from. He didn’t know what to do now. He had his creator, his guide, in his hands and he didn’t know what to do. 

Xingqiu stepped between the two of you.

“Is everything alright, sir?”

Thoma’s grip faltered, allowing you to retract your burning wrist and stumble back a step. His expression looked lost and desperate, like a dog yearning for its owner. Xingqiu’s suspicious glare combined with your cowering only messed up his train of thought even further. 

“Are…”

Your gaze fell to the worn wood of the dock. You were ready to run at a moment’s notice, fingers rising to grip Xingqiu’s sleeve. 

“...Your Grace? Why—”

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Xingqiu coldly cut him off before he could finish his thought. “Perhaps you should calm down. You seem a bit flustered.”

Your companion turned away sharply, but you didn’t move. You scrutinised the man in front of you, reading into every little micromovement, every miniscule detail to determine his thoughts. He was trembling slightly, you noticed, and you couldn’t help but take a small step forward. Reaching down with your unoccupied hand, you reach for his own—the one he had grabbed you with, which had yet to fall fully back to his side—and grip it softly. His conflicted gaze finds yours, and you simply offer a kind smile that you make sure shows in your eyes.

“It’s nice to see you in person, Thoma.”

You walk away, Xingqiu by your side, leaving the lingering sensation of warmth in your wake.

— — — —

dont question why mc didn’t just show zhongli their injured leg i needed it for convenience and ✨ drama ✨

anyway thank yall so much for reading!!! It’s finally out after months of stuff you probably dont care about!! this will be the last part of this series, but i will continue to write just random stuff and maybe a few crack things in this universe or smt but yeah

remember to forgive, but don’t forget :)

tags: (sorry if you werent tagged but this is getting ridiculous lol and i wanted to get this out as soon as possible <333)

@emyrl @karmawonders @paranoiac-666 @sl33pyt1r3 @lnrchii@idiotic-canadian @reiluvbot @wonderlace19 @kittykrumbs@carmelchocola @mavsketch @arima26 @sarahyumiko2@deescreamsintotheabyss @chocogi @iminlovewithanidiot@sweet-seraphim @birozu @shadowfoxey @iamfriedpotato@ohnoivefallen @halparkebitch @quiet-qqq @thedianaclark@bookcrazybby @just-a-leetle-creachure@justdonothink  @ennspostssmh @3ch0lol @frostines-blog@abvolat @riddeny @raeraekubs @shamelesspizzabatpalace@heyheydidjaknow @leojustleoo @applepi1415 @irethepotato@fiona782 @popdrop @tanspostsblog @milksnake-tea @rayonfirethe2nd  @celesther​ @mavix​ @breabs​ @windyventi @kiznax @bloomhasuke @wishicouldart @ehjane @xx-chloe-xx @atsuki-mitsuri @iloveicecreamandsweets @fluffyforeverything ​ @ghostlygirl111  @sillyponyherobear @tanspostsblog @milksnake-tea @beckisnthome @cassandra-hanagaki @lumpywolf @fandoomerthesequel @shinydrakeon15@violent-lemons @reallysparklychaos @xerhhere @gooberq @atsukawolfcat @thebeanofdoom @pierre-rambles​ @uh-kay-shuh @fangirlinindia @starhvney @dainsleif-when-playable @the-real-fandom-person @rockinpebbles @raspberry-cocogoat@inlustris-is-slowly-dying @chihawari @we-wo-we-wo @sarahyumiko2 @emperatris-rinaka

[mutatedangels-a]

...I will always love you. ♫

And that was The Cure with Lovesong, their newest single from this year's Disintegration, for one of our listeners, Bridget. A little bit about The Cure for those of you cool cats who don't know. About ten years ago, in 1978, they formed...

Static.

...The Cure are currently on a 24-city tour across the US, hitting Baton Rouge, Houston, and Montgomery down here in the south. And Bridget, you lucky girl, you called the right place at the right time, 'cause I'm sending you two tickets to the Houston show, right here in Texas. Christmas came early. I've been Jungle Julia, and you've been listening to Jungle Julia's Jams.

Noah pattered her fingers along the rubber steering wheel of her dad's 1974 El Camino, half-lidded eyes focused on the unlit road ahead. These desert roads were unforgiving: Despite it only being 5 p.m., this time of year, technically the south's "winter," the sun was nowhere to be found. Had already been absent for a good half hour already, when she first picked up Blair by the gas station. Her father would scold her for doing such a thing: You're already doing one reckless thing driving around to all these stupid horror movie auditions. Now I'm finding out you're picking up hitchhikers in my own Betsy? How dare you!

Betsy was cherry red and beautiful inside and out, but practically old enough to drink now. Just as Noah was. And her time was running out: the older she got, the less chance she'd have gracing the silver screen as the next budding scream queen. How old was Jamie Lee Curtis when she debuted as Laurie Strode over a decade ago now at this point? Noah was already in her mid-20s, running out of time as far as she knew. Besides, the horror movies were just that—horror movies. The chances of picking up a Leatherface wannabe were quite low. (After all, a chainsaw is kind of an obvious murder weapon...)

"Hey, don't mention it," Noah said, shaking her head. She looked over at him and flashed a smile; he seemed harmless enough. "It's dark, it's gonna rain later. We're headed in the same direction. Call it... saving the planet? Causing less emissions? Being a good person? Whatever—it just makes sense."

She took a deep breath and fixed her eyes back on the path ahead of them, illuminated just enough by her clouded headlights. Phil Collins' Thru These Walls started playing on the radio.

...I can hear through these walls I can hear it when they're foolin' around I can hear through these walls And I hear every sign, every sound I can hear through these walls In the dark with the shades pulled down. ♫

As the song flitted into its chorus, Noah laughed at Blair's words. "Yeah, my dad would probably kill me if he found out," she said. "I'm not as paranoid as him."

But she should have been.

She should have been.

A quick click and shing! caught Noah's attention, and before she knew it, she felt something sharp pressing up against her throat. Petrified, she kept her foot on the gas and her arms, once relaxed, now stiff as she held the steering wheel. She swallowed, but her throat was dry; and that very gesture pushed the knife ever deeper on the surface of her skin.

She didn't say she understood. She let out her attempt at a casual laugh, laced with nervousness. "Hey, this—you don't have to do this, you know," she said, trying to remain calm despite the pressure on her leg. "You can take the car, if that's what you want. And I won't tell anyone anything." // @someotherdog

@mutatedangels / the hitcher for blair & the muse of your choice! / a non-satanist verse for blair, he's a hitchhiking serial killer that's just been picked up by your muse (for whichever reason you decide). could be set in the eighties for extra fun, but not a requirement.

whoops! turns out when you murder people all over town, you might just get caught. that was the only reason blair was even wandering the southern highways. he made it out of his hometown of robichaux, louisiana by the skin of his teeth, so close to being arrested. luckily, small town sheriffs were stupid pretty much all across the board. so he went from one town to the next, hitchhiking along quiet state routes, and tried to indulge in his hobby as often as possible. sitting in the passenger seat of the stranger's car, blair held the most polite, gentlemanly smile possible—he had a lot of practice, twenty-seven years of being a good ol' boy before he finally learned the joys of death. it was all so easy for him. it sometimes took awhile, but inevitably, someone would give him a ride.

"i really do appreciate, y'know. so many people drove right on by and didn't even give me a glance." blair appeared truly grateful, and he was in his own way. his right hand was in his jeans' pocket, fingering the handle of his switchblade, twitching with anticipation. he knew he didn't look like much, but he was strong. and quick. the act of murder was so kinetic and exhausting but blair could do it forever. that's why he liked to tempt fate. it had been months since he started, and they never even came close to catching him since he left robichaux. kind of boring, honestly. blair became sloppier with each kill because he thought he was a god. the lack of capture proved it to him. even his victims weren't much of a challenge. he started out with the weak, then advanced to stronger prey. he started in the shadows, then became more blatant. he still liked the weak and the shadows, but they just tided him over. "i guess most people wouldn't take the risk of pickin' up a stranger, eh?"

even though he was able to keep up small talk for longer than he cared to, his patience was running thin. he retained his smile as he brought the knife out of his pocket. the blade flipped out. he was still smiling. "guess you ain't too smart then." quickly, he pressed the blade against their neck and used his other hand to press onto their knee, forcing their foot onto the gas with his ironlike grip. "now, don't try nothin'. this ain't my first rodeo, y'know? don't try to drive the car off the road or push me out the door. don't speed to get the attention of some police cruiser. those are old tricks and i'm bored of 'em, you understand? say you understand."

[ironandglass]

pst *take of hoodie and sunglasses* I heard request were open for silco.....can I get some headcanons for silco smoking around the reader? maybe even blowing it into their face? ..... or mouth?

*Looks left and right before gesturing you inside.* “You’ve come to the right place.”

Silco X GenderNeutral!Reader short

TW for smoking, power dynamics, power imbalance, violence, and I guess technically non consensual touch.

Look, it honestly started out as just headcanons and then quickly evolved, wildly beyond my control. Just like Jurassic Park.

Silco’s Damn Smoking

The man was a menace.

The way he talked business casually while assaulting your senses with his intoxicating mannerisms. The way he slinks around the room with that lazy cocksure gait, like some graceful powerful beast. The way he moves his elegant hands in dramatic sweeps and gestures. The way he smokes, in particular, was so… increasingly, frustratingly, distracting to you.

How are you supposed to stay focused and discuss important business with all this going on.

You did your very best to hide how it affected you. For a man with such injuries to his face and eye you were never quite sure how much he could actually see. He seemed to never miss anything. You were worried he noticed the way your lips would part slightly as you watched him exhale the smoke from his cigar. Or the way you would breathe the smoke in deeply sometimes, savouring it.

So it’s a relief when Sevika bursts into the room, requesting a word, looking at you pointedly. You stand to leave so they can talk but he angrily waves for you to sit on the red velvet chaise lounge.

“I’ll be back shortly.” He calls over his shoulder excusing himself. Sevika closes the door behind them.

You do a very good job of waiting patiently for a time but curiosity eventually pulls you over to his desk.

You can’t resist tracing your fingertips over the cool brass of the ornate lamp, the leather bound covers of books, a complicated map of Piltover. The little timber box of cigars catches your attention. You look over your shoulder at the door and decide to risk it, lifting yourself up to sit on the desk so you can reach them.

Sliding the cover across you withdraw a single aromatic tube and bring it to your nose taking a deep inhale.

The gentle click of the door opening barely registers for a second as you enjoy the smell of the cigar held under your nose. Then the neurons fire and you open your eyes to see Silco striding cooly towards you. Shit shit shit. You start to apologise and get up but he shushes you and his hand presses gently against your knee in a demand to stay.

You feel so vulnerable, your mind races in panic. He’s smirking at you with the good side of his face, clearly amused as he plucks the cigar from your hand.

“Pass me that would you” he gestures to the small guillotine which you pass him and he promptly uses it to chop the end off with a metallic ’shing’. He places the cigar in his mouth and then looks pointedly at the lighter on his desk.

“Oh of course” you oblige him, sparking the flint wheel bringing the warm golden flame carefully to his face.

He holds your eyes with his as he takes a few chuffing draws. The sound of it sends waves of tingles down your neck. Why did this affect you so much, you don’t even notice your breathing hitch or the way your lips had slightly parted. But he certainly did.

He moves forward without warning, closing the gap between you. His thigh now pressed between your legs which hang over the edge of the desk in an intimate collision that leaves you reeling. You grip the edge of the desk beside your thighs to brace yourself. Gasping in surprise and before you can do anything else Silco grabs your face roughly in one hand, the long fingers and thumb holding you firmly in place. He’s squeezing a bit too hard but it’s… thrilling, dangerous. His free hand still lazily holding the cigar which he brings to his lips. Drawing the smoke into his mouth, swirling the flavour around as he looks deep into your eyes before blowing the thick, pungent smoke into your face. The cool air washes over you, obstructing your view for a second or two.

“No no no…” he tuts, squeezing your face even harder and bringing his lips to your ear. “You’re wasting it.” His breath is warm against your bare neck and his deep voice hums over your skin. ”Let’s try that again shall we?”

He draws back to take a another mouthful of smoke, the small embers crackling as he takes a deep drag. You see a small amount curl out of his nostrils before he brings his lips in, so close to yours. You part your lips slowly and he blows the smoke into your mouth. It feels cool and tastes… amazing. The complex flavour that you associate so deeply with him is quite different to the smell. Sweeter, richer than you had imagined. You wonder how much is the cigar and how much is him.

The veil of smoke falls away slowly and you look up at him, aching for more, much more of whatever this was.

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Last Line Tag

Tagged by: @dgwriteblr

Tagging: @ashen-crest @blueinkblot @darlingsmoon @alannaofroses @albatris @circa-specturgia @did-i-do-this-write @enchanted-lightning-aes @jezifster @rose-bookblood @aalinaaaaaa @karolinarodrigueswrites @spacetimewraithwrites @pixelw0rds  and anyone else who wants to join in! No pressure!

Here’s the last bit I wrote for my Snow Knight WIP (TW for implied/mentioned emotional abuse that happened in the chapter previous!!!) 

As Lan let their horse drink from the stream, they patted the horse, hesitantly looking at Snow. “She’s always treated you like this, blaming you for everything bad that goes wrong. Even before your father died. Now she’s just using his loss as an excuse.”

Snow, who had been watching the water babble by, looked up. “An excuse for what?”

They gave her an apologetic look, tilting their head towards her.

“No, no,” Snow said, throwing up her hands, “We’ve been over this. My stepmother is…” She desperately scrambled for the right words. “...not the nicest person, but she’s not that awful. Especially not to me. She’s just… she’s…”

“I’ve heard her say things to you that are ten times more hurtful than the things she says to any servant that messes up in her presence.” Lan said, “Look, I know it’s hard for you to accept because she’s your stepmother-”

“Yes,” Snow said, “She is my stepmother and the Queen. Which is why I have to give her some grace.”

They nodded. For a minute, the two were silent as their horses drank. Finally, Lan said quietly, “Maybe you should consider that… you might be giving her too much grace, Snow.”

She handed her horse's reins off to Lan, muttered something about needing a minute, and walked off into the trees until she was alone. She found a small opening in the bushes, between a cluster of trees- where she was out of sight of anyone on the hunt, but would easily be able to find them by stepping back out towards the stream.

Once sure that she wouldn’t be interrupted, Snow set her helmet on a rock, and tried to focus on the forest around her instead of the noise inside her head.

Closing her eyes, Snow breathed in deeply, imagining that she was breathing in the forest itself. That helped her to calm down quite a bit.

Then she heard it.

It was a tiny noise, a footstep and-

the metallic shing of a blade being drawn.

.

Snow whipped around, grabbing the person’s wrist and stopping the path of the dagger in their hand, directed at her face.

“Hunter?”

[katblu42]

Mr Fix it

For @gaviiadastra's TB Winter Olympics event, and with many thanks to her and @gumnut-logic for their parts in the making of this little piece, read-throughs, corrections and encouragement.

It all started with the thought of Virgil as a medical first responder at Winter Olympic events. Bones from Star Trek was mentioned and then from this convo on Discord . . .

. . . came this:

The short track speed skating events at this year’s Olympic competition so far had seen a good many tumbles, crashes and dramas, but thankfully there had been no greater injuries than some bruises and sprains and a few badly dented egos. Virgil always marvelled at the tenacity and determination of these athletes as they dusted themselves off after a fall and subsequent crash into the padded barriers, often scrambling to finish the race before any of their team’s medical staff could check them over. Many of the athletes would not seek out medical treatment themselves. Sometimes they just didn’t feel the injury until the adrenaline level subsided, sometimes they wanted to shake it off and keep racing because they were not letting this once-in-four-year chance slip away. But when things went really bad and the athlete was so badly injured they could not leave the ice without help . . . Virgil and the team of medics he belonged to were the ones to respond.

Tonight’s program had progressed to the quarter finals of the men’s 1500m event. Every race during the women’s quarters had seen multiple skaters fall. The surface of the ice seemed to be a little soft in places and catching skaters out, even without all the nudging, pushing and blade clashes that were common in short track skating. It made Virgil anxious. Especially because his brother was about to compete.

Scott Tracy stood poised on the start line in his skin-tight red, white and blue racing suit, two competitors on his left and three to the right of him, just as full of tension, nerves, focus and barely contained energy ready to be released at the sound of the starter’s gun. Virgil stood behind the padded barrier surrounding the rink, trying not to bounce on his feet and curl and uncurl his gloved hands into fists.

Crack! . . . Crack!

The starters pistol fired, and almost immediately fired again. A false start. The Italian skater had flinched on the line just before the gun went off.

The six men slowly circled back to their starting positions. Another false start and whoever broke would be disqualified, so the tension intensified. Anticipatory silence filled the arena as the skaters stood poised for the re-start.

Crack! . . . Crack!

Another false start, and the young Korean skater, competing in his first Olympic games, was disqualified.

By the time the five remaining competitors were lined up on the start line again Virgil’s heart was pounding painfully somewhere high up in his chest, and he almost had to force himself to breathe. He didn’t know how his big brother could seem so calm and focused in the circumstances.

Crack! And the race is underway. In the initial jostle for position on the inside of the track, skates touch, no one falls, but skaters have been impeded and the starter fires the gun again – Crack!

Amongst the clicks and scrapes of carbon steel on ice Virgil’s frayed nerves had been set on edge by the shing of metal on metal. The blade of Scott’s right skate and that of the Dutchman’s left had collided, sending both skaters off balance for a moment, and causing two other skaters to take evasive action while they righted themselves. Having happened so early in the race the starter had taken the decision to stop the race in favour of yet another restart.

The Dutch skater immediately skated over and leapt up onto the padded wall barrier near his support team to have his blades checked. Scott headed straight for Virgil, whose eyes widened as he racked his brain for a reason his brother would be approaching the medical area. With a rather graceful leap considering the weight of the boots and length of the sharp blades strapped to his feet, Scott was suddenly sitting atop the barrier in front of Virgil and shuffling over so his skates were easily visible. Virgil, whose hands had made an automatic grab for Scott’s wrist to check vitals and look for possible injury from when he’d put a hand out to trail the ice and steady himself, suddenly twigged.

“Damn it, Scott,” he said as his eyes focused on the blades being presented to him, “I’m a paramedic, not a skate technician. I can’t just fix your blade.”

“Virgil, you are my skate technician.” Back home at least.

“Not today,” he replied, pointing to the medic badge sewn onto his red uniform.

“But you know how to fix it, right?”

Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. There was a tiny nick in the blade of Scott’s right skate. He sighed.

“You know I can’t fix it here. You need a replacement.” He didn’t want to look up into his brother’s face, knowing what he’d find there. Eyes of sapphire blue, pleading but full of expectant trust. “Give me a sec to fetch my tools.”

Just before he turned away to reach for the tool bag he’d placed beside the medical kit, he caught the change of expression. There it was, that triumphant smirk in his brother’s eyes.

He lifted out the tech gun and a couple of spare blades, wondering to himself why he did this . . . oh, yeah – that triumphant smirk in his brother’s eyes.

Selecting the blade that was the best match for the one he was about to remove, Virgil made quick work of removing the screws that held the old blade in place, attached the new one and gave Scott’s right boot a decent tap with his hand for good measure.

“Thanks, Virg.” Scott flashed him a dimpled smile before spinning himself back across the padded fence and onto the ice, just as a signal sounded to indicate time was up for making repairs.

“The things I do for you . . .”

“Are much appreciated, little brother,” Scott threw over his shoulder as he skated away toward the start line.

[goldentigerfestival]

Your biggest advocate for JP Yuri and Flynn.

I like talking about Tales a Really Normal amount, so here's some information if you're looking for someone to be Perfectly Normal with (read: the stuff I will mewl about if given the chance or will simply do on my own anyway)!

These aren't reflective of what will be on this blog in a strictly, only these things sense - more that I like to gush about these things in particular or very strongly like them/like talking about them!

Everything is ordered by game because after my top twos/threes, any kind of favorite list starts getting very muddled.

Favorites:

Games:

Destiny (second favorite)

Rebirth

Legendia (favorite)

Innocence (not R) (also second favorite)

Graces (JP ver)

Crestoria

Characters:

Dhaos, Chester

Leon (second favorite overall), Stahn

Judas

Mithos, Zelos

Richter, Emil

Mao

Moses (top of the top favorite), Jay, Senel (Stella and Fenimore are somewhere circling the top)

Asch, Jade

Spada

Duke, Yuri, Flynn, Schwann (Raven is tailing along)

Creed, Kohaku

Richard, Asbel

Law

Zephyr

Mileena

Vicious, Aegis

Ships:

Cless/Chester

Stahn/Leon

Zelos/Lloyd (Genis/Mithos is up there)

Richter/Aster, Richter/Emil

Jay/Moses, Senel/Stella, Shirley/Fenimore

Asch/Luke, Guy/Natalia, Luke/Natalia

Spada/Ruca

Yuri/Flynn

Shing/Kohaku

Richard/Asbel, Hubert/Cheria

Platonic Things I Will Holler About:

Dhaos+Mithos

Leon/Judas + Kyle (particularly familial, particularly dad energy)

Zelos+Colette

Zelos+Kratos (particularly of the son/father in law sort...)

Mithos+Ratatosk

Mithos+Richter (at least gachas have my back)

Veigue+Mao

Veigue+Senel (gachas still have my back)

Senel+Jay

Senel+Moses+Jay

Senel+Fenimore (sister in law energy...)

Jay+Shirley

Luke+Tear

Luke+Jade

Luke+Guy

Spada+Ricardo

Yuri+Duke

Yuri+Raven

Yuri+Karol

Yuri+Judith (do ship it slightly too)

Yuri+Leon

Yuri+Senel

Yuri+Vicious

Flynn+Duke

Flynn+Raven

Flynn+Asbel

Flynn+Aegis

Karol+Raven

Duke+Raven

Raven+Orwin

Zagi+Hasta

Shing+Chalcedony

Shing+Hisui

Shing+Creed

Asbel+Sophie

Asbel+Cheria

Asbel/Richard+Sophie+Pascal

Cheria+Sophie

Law+Alphen

Vicious+Kanata

Aegis+Kanata

If it ain't here it's not because I dislike/hate it - I have others of each I enjoy but those are my favorites/what I'm inclined to enjoy talking about most!

Among other things, I have no familiarity with Eternia (may or may not change), Tempest, Zestiria (very very minor familiarity right now as I just didn't get far and haven't picked it back up yet), or Berseria.

Also familiar with Rays, Asteria and Link.

[nxrthmizu]

| silence in gotham | day 19

»»——⍟——««

@daminette-december2019-2020

prompt | anti-hero

pairing | Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng 

words | 1.4k

author’s note | Ahaha did I do an entire research on what anti-heroes are for this? yes

»»——⍟——««

Silence, in Gotham, was never a good thing. 

For a city plagued with villains that popped out one after another like household pests, it was never quiet. There was always some sort of event going on, whether it be a gala or a warehouse bombing. Cackles of the villains in the distance were never an unfamiliar noise as they were always up to something, anything. Heck, if they were quiet for too long, it meant something bad was brewing, and everyone would be on their haunches, ready and aware for the inevitable attack. 

Silence, in Gotham, was never a good thing. 

Which was exactly why Robin was so on edge, eyes straining to catch every movement he could spot from his view down onto one of Gotham’s biggest streets from the top of a bank. 

“You look like you’re waiting for something, bird boy.” 

He spun around instantly, mentally berating himself for not having heard her when he got distracted in absorbing all of the street down below. His sword was unsheathed with a sharp shing!, shining under Gotham’s moon like Excalibur, freshly pulled from the stone. 

Except he wasn’t Arthur. 

And she certainly wasn’t Merlin. 

“Or perhaps... Someone.” She mused with a sparkle in her eyes, watching the shift in his composure. His teeth were gritted, much like a cornered animal’s, with an instant fight or flight instinct burning in his eyes. A desire to wipe that cocky smirk off her lips alighted inside him as he held his sword steady, his eyes trained on the woman he labelled his sworn rival. 

“Certainly wasn’t waiting for you.” He spat out, moving his feet. They were circling now, facing each other and dancing an intricate pre-battle ritual. Her bluebell eyes, encased behind her mask, were fixed on his, and his emerald ones never faltered. 

The first one to look away would lose. 

The Bat-symbol flashed into the sky in the distance, and out of habit, Robin glanced away, realising his mistake all too late. 

She pranced on him, her own weapon- A baton similar to Grayson’s- Extending into her hands like it was made to be held in her palms. Metal clanged against metal in a detailed melody of a sound similar to a glockenspiels- But more powerful. 

He should’ve never looked away. 

Luck was on her side; It always seemed to be. They exchanged blow after blow, the bluebell-eyed woman getting in more hits than she normally would’ve. 

“Distracted, pretty bird?” She smiled, clearly amused, blocking another one of his attacks casually. “You should know better than that.” 

“Shut up.” He hissed in retaliation, swinging his sword forward with greater force. 

No matter how skilled she was, he was the bigger man, and they both knew it. She had stealth and agility, he had strength and power. “Well played.” Replied the woman with a cat-like smile when she flipped over to avoid shouldering the brunt of his attack, landing on her feet just like all cats do. “Nice move, bird boy. You’re lucky I’m not looking for a fight tonight.” 

If she had been looking to catch his curiosity, she succeeded. His ears perked up, his eyes watching her carefully, alike to a predator’s while it was hiding in the bush, tracking his prey’s movements. 

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow tentatively but never unsheathed his sword. “Do elaborate.” 

“I think we’ve been rivals for far too long.” 

“I beg to differ, I can go on like this forever.” 

“Aren’t you tired of playing cat and mouse?” She purred, ignoring his statement blatantly. “You’re a detective, aren’t you? Don’t you want to know why I’m doing this?” 

He gave her the best bored expression he could afford. “Would you be disappointed if my answer was no?” 

“A little.” She laughed softly, jumping onto the ledge of the building, an epitome of grace and beauty as she strutted the thin line between life and falling to her death. “But that doesn’t matter.” 

“If you’re just going to tell me anyway, go ahead.” 

For a moment he thought she was going to drop off the edge. But of course, luck was always on her side. The bluebell-eyed woman moved with the grace of a ballerina and the deftness of an assassin, and if she wasn’t his sworn rival, he’d find her movements enticing. She belonged on the centre-stage of a Paris Opera Ballet performance, the crowd’s eyes all pinpointed to her. She was an eye-catching diamond, attracting all attention to her and her sparkling glory. 

“You see,” She smiled softly, the moonlight acting as a natural spotlight for the star of the show. “I’m looking for a partner.”

The night regained its’ silence as the world awaited Robin’s reaction. His emerald eyes never left her patient ones as he contemplated the best way to overcome his shock and give an appropriate answer. 

“And of everyone you could’ve asked,” He begin, “You asked your sworn rival? I thought you were smarter than that.” 

A scoff left her throat as she dropped her innocent, sweet facade. “Oh, please. You know as well as I do that if we worked together, we’d be unstoppable. Don’t you want a taste of what it’s like?” 

“Are you only doing this because I know who you are?” There was a tint of mockery, quietly prodding at her in his voice. No, Robin certainly wasn’t afraid to resort to blackmail. “The darling of the fashion world, the designer behind Nette DC- An anti-hero by night.” 

She let out a dry laugh, and Robin was instantly reminded of all the reasons why he should not have crossed the woman. “Please.” She replied simply. “This is a two-way sword. Wouldn’t it be an interesting headline?- The heir of Wayne Enterprises turns out to be a vigilante by night.” Her eyes darkened. “If you tighten the noose around my neck, you’re tightening the one around yours, too.” 

“I know that.” He replied loosely. “Why do you think I haven’t exposed you yet?” 

She hummed as a response. “Don’t you want to know what’s in it for you if you take the offer? You’re already a vigilante anyways. I’m nothing different.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“We both know how corrupted Gotham’s politics are.” She said, jumping straight into the point. Never one to tell stories in winding roads but instead highways that drove straight to the destination. “I’m sure you know firsthand how bad it is, exactly. I’ve been delving into exposing corrupt companies, and I could use your network for information.” 

He crossed his arms, sheathing his sword when he noticed her lowered baton. “And what do I get from this?” 

“You think I don’t know? You’re the only one left in the family still patrolling these streets.” She smiled, watching him flinch. “Nightwing left the business after his injury. Red Hood hasn’t been seen in years. Red Robin’s probably sticking to computer work. Batman’s completely out of the question, it’s only a matter of time before you take his title, yes?” 

“... You’re offering to help.” 

“I’m giving you my assistance.” She corrected. “Gotham’s my city now, too. I live here, and I’m not going to let it get overrun by villains just because a couple of vigilantes got too old to help uphold justice.” 

He watched her carefully, looking for any traits of dishonesty. None. “In return for helping me regulate the streets, all you’re asking for is information?” 

A smirk slipped on her lips. “And an inside man.” She shrugged. “You’re invited to just about every gala.” 

“So are you.” He replied dryly. “What’s my use?” 

“Men tend not to open up to women about topics that I needed information on.” She waved off. “I need someone like you, who can pry what I need. I know you have a way with words. So?” 

Surely, he would benefit more? Robin ran through the consequences of his choice through his head. Gotham would be ridden of a few more corrupt politicians- No doubt new ones would come filing in as soon as the old were thrown out- But never mind that. In addition, he would get some help around the streets. Sounded like a worth deal to him. 

“Deal.” 

»»——⍟——««

taglist: @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @starmist19 @myazael @stainedglassm @user00000003 @toughluna @nickristus-dreamer @missmadwoman

gen. daminette taglist. @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @missmadwoman 

»»——⍟——««

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2021

// FFXIV Write Info // Prompts // Master post //

Prompt 8 Adroit

expert or nimble in the use of the hands or body.

(I saw this word and instantly knew it had to be in N’noah’s perspective. This was a fun one to write <3 no warnings apply. Enjoy!)

N’noah didn’t always enjoy dancing. It was never something she could do on her own terms in the past. It was always under the order of her Master; never for her own enjoyment but for the enjoyment of someone else. 

When she finally escaped her captors, she learned a new way to put her skills to use by becoming a Monk and joining the Immortal Flames; an attempt to completely separate herself from her old life. As much as she despised dancing, there was no denying she had a skill for it and even when she wasn’t meant to be dancing, she was.

Her punches were not without a flourished spin, her kicks were graceful but powerful, and she could contort her body in positions that caused her fellow recruits to cringe in pain just by looking at her while she trained. There was no denying that dancing still influenced her every move. 

When her mentor approached her with a pair of chakrams to try, she practically recoiled with disdain.

“Trust me on this N’noah,” he said. “Watching you train, I can’t help but wonder how much more you’ll excel when you’re finally in your element.” 

N’noah accepted the steel chakrams, surprised by how light they felt in her grip when the last ones she ever held were clunky and heavy, given to her on purpose by her captors to prevent her from using them to her advantage.

She spun on her heel and threw one of them to the nearest target with ease, the metal making a satisfying shing as it splintered the wood. No sooner had she outstretched her hand to catch the chakram as it came flying back, she was already spinning around to throw the next. Her mentor stepped back with a smile to allow her to take the stage. 

Poised and graceful, she moved around the field with ease. Her arms stretched to the sky, her body spinning and arching to a rhythm only she could hear. The targets around her steadily began to splinter apart as her steel chakrams hit their mark time and time again. On the outside, her gaze was focused and intent but on the inside, she felt nothing but pure bliss.

She had once more found her passion for dancing and with it, quickly earned her title and ranks among her fellow Flame Recruits. 

They didn’t call her the Dancer of the Immortal Flames for naught. 

[nitewrighter]

Just got back online from a power outage and ate something that made me feel like I was going to be sick :( Could I request a prompt? | Genji comes back from a rough mission, but Mercy isn’t aware yet. His injuries aren’t bad enough that he needs to be hospitalized but he is shaken up (maybe from something that reminded him of a traumatic event or something personal was said to him, causing him to hesitate and get hurt). Genji comes back and Mercy sees his injuries. He is reluctant to talk.

I love edgy Blackwatch Genji, and that first prompt has edgy Blackwatch Genji written all over it.

-----

“Honestly, Shimada, you’re being a child,” Moira was stooping over him on the dropship as he winced away from the ‘healing’ hand of her biotic rig. For all intents and purposes, the mission was a success, but after that Null Sector virus had caused his prosthetics to seize up, Genji had had more than enough people poking at his patchwork monstrosity of a body for one night.

“I said I’m fine,” muttered Genji.

Moira  braced a long-fingered hand on his shoulder to steady herself as the dropship shook with turbulence, the contact making Genji’s whole body tense. “You’re literally bleedi--”

“Moira,” Reyes’ voice was tired, “He said he’s good.”

Moira’s eyes flicked over to Reyes. He and McCree were in their respective dropship seats, all strapped in. Reyes was giving Moira a long quiet look that made Genji feel even more like a child. McCree’s hat was over his eyes, sleep already overtaking him, otherwise he would have been the first to get Moira to back off.

“You know what? Fine,” said Moira, withdrawing her hands, “If you want to play the wounded puppy for Doctor Ziegler, don’t let me get in your way. God forbid anyone on this team is practical.”

“I’m not playing---” Genji’s shoulder’s bunched up with fury, but he caught himself. Moira’s eyes were back on him. Prying. Dissecting. Ready to take anything he said, synthesize it with everything she already knew about him, and throw it right back at him. He knew there was only so much you could engage with Moira, he knew that. He looked to his organic hand, twitching, shaking, and clenched it into a fist, pressing it against the metal of his prosthetic knee.

“We’re all tired. We’re all tense. Maybe we should take a note from McCree for once and just settle down until we get to headquarters,” said Reyes.

Genji huffed, his breath pressing against his skin underneath his metal faceplate. Moira gave Reyes a placid look that made Genji’s blood boil more. 

“Of course,” said Moira, slumping back into her seat on the dropship. She gave Genji a mocking smile, “What’s one more scar for our guardian angel to kiss better?” Genji felt his ears burning but then glanced off, furiously. He sullenly brushed the blood out of his eyebrow.

“Moira,” Reyes’ voice was flatter.

“I know, I know,” Moira gave a dismissive hand wave before settling into her seat and strapping in. She wasn’t looking at Genji but he could see the tugs at the corners of her mouth that told him, ‘It is all too easy to get a rise out of you.’ He simmered back into his own seat and turned his attention to the window. There was only blackness outside the dropship, and the reddish interior lights made the glass show his reflection, and he couldn’t look at that for more than a few seconds. He folded his arms tight across himself, gave one final scan across the dropship before settling in for the long ride.

----

The next few nights in Zurich Genji dreamed of coming apart the way you dream of your teeth falling out. No pain, no more than the usual phantom limb sensations, but a horrifying awareness, the sensation of gaps widening within you before they come loose. He avoided Mercy’s office and the medical labs. He knew it was stupid, and he knew Moira wouldn’t know, and he knew he was probably playing right into Moira’s sick little games by dwelling on it that much, but at the same time, he couldn’t stand the idea of proving her right.

Right about what? That you trust Doctor Ziegler more than her? he thought angrily to himself he briskly walked through the hallways of Headquarters,  That’s just common sense.

What’s one more scar for our guardian angel to kiss better? He could hear the smirk in Moira’s voice in his head and some mix of fury and embarrassment prickled along his scarred skin as he stepped into a lift.

We just talk, that’s all, She’s nice to listen to. he thought as the doors opened to a world of white, blue, and steel. He stretched his arms above his head and leaned into a side stretch, And she listens to me. And she’s funny. he circled his arms in their sockets and circled the ankles of his prosthetic feet. I’m not stupid. I know nothing’s going to come of it, he thought as he headed to the primary monitor for the course and customized the training field to a handful of various obstacles--some moving platforms, a few sleek walls to scale, some columns to rebound between, some non-lethal pulsefire turrets, I know what I look like.

Normally he would be using Ryū Ichimonji to tear through a slew of training bots, but the Null Sector mission had put him off slicing through robots at least for a while. Maybe he could spar with Sojourn or McCree later, but for now, he just wanted to feel the wind rush past him. Drawing only his short tanto, he broke into a sprint, deflecting shots from the turrets, before running along a wall and rebounding off or it, springing on the fingertips of his prosthetic arm. Sometimes, when he ran fast enough, he could focus just on the sensation of his heart pumping, pull his mind away from the wires coursing over his body and the way his feet making contact with the ground didn’t course up his legs in the right way. Just focus on the heart, just focus on the breath. So much of his training with the Shimada clan was focused on total body consciousness, awareness of every breath, every muscle, all of that training was a curse with his new body. But he could run, he could climb, he could bound off of walls, he could leap and flip through the air, nimbly pace along narrow railings, lose himself in the rush of the wind.

  Flow like water. 

He managed to deflect the pulsefire back to the turrets to shut them down, scaled and rebounded off of a few more walls, lost himself in the motions, lost all sense of time, raced back to the beginning of the course, and did it again. And again. And again. And again. Climb and leap and deflect and climb and run and run and run and maybe the fury and the pain won’t catch up with you. He pushed himself to that heart-pumping point where even his prosthetics were shaking with exhaustion. He could smell the metallic intermingling of his own sweat and his prosthetics even under his faceplate. Almost in defiance of those physical limits, he scaled one of the observation buildings bordering the training grounds and perched on the roof there, to catch his breath, feeling the cold alpine air on his skin. He flopped back against the roof to stare up at the open blue bowl of the sky, fringed with little wisps of mare’s tail clouds breezing off of the snowcapped mountains. He closed his eyes for a brief few minutes, focusing on his own breath and heartbeat, before a sharp, unnatural sound prompted his eyes to flick open. A shing sound, almost like a blade being drawn but not quite, more ringing, more sustained, before it faded into the sound of the wind. He pushed up from the roof to a sitting position, and scanned around. Someone else using the training field? He glanced down at his custom obstacle course, still untouched, and a couple of lazy training bots drifting around. His red eyes narrowed skeptically before shing-woosh! That sound whipped overhead and he glanced sharply upward. 

The wings were the first thing he made out. Blazing yellow feather-like constructs of light on white frames, the sun shining through them making him squint against the blue of the sky. It took him several esconds made out the figure attached to them. Donning goggles and what appeared to be a modified version of their orange and gray training jumpsuits, Mercy had her hair tied back in its usual voluminous ponytail, but now flailing like a flame in the wind, but didn’t notice him as she rushed overhead, banked sharply left, then shot upward. He was so used to seeing her slumped down in that chair in her lab that even despite their whole exchange over the poster and the fact that she was Mercy, despite her offhandedly mentioning this mission or that during their late night lab chats, this sight and the fact that indeed, she was an agent of Overwatch with all that entailed sank into him. She was Mercy. She could fly. She swooped in and rescued people--probably not as glamorously as all the propaganda made out, but she actually did that. Was this the first time he was seeing her fly outside of all the posters and videos? He felt a little embarrassed that it was taking this long for these facets of her to sink in, but then again, he knew his own anger was clouding his mind, constantly turning it back to the Shimada clan, to Hanzo. He watched as she burst out from a cloudbank, hair wet, wings still blazing, streams of vapor from the cloud trailing behind on her wingtips like wake.

Our guardian angel, Moira’s voice echoed in his head again, but no, that didn’t seem right. Maybe the Mercy on the poster was a ‘guardian angel,’ but watching Angela Ziegler felt like something sharper, more powerful, more self-possessed. There was grace in her movements, though. He wondered if, in the development of the Valkyrie suit, they had told her how to hold out her arms, how to hold out her legs, tensed and streamlined, halfway between swimmer and dancer, her entire body curving into her turns, or if, because she was the one the valkyrie suit had been developed for, this was all her. She shot upward again and stupidly his eyes followed her until he found himself looking directly at a dazzling white sun, and he winced and looked away. He blinked the spots out of his eyes and quietly cursed himself, and some stupid, juvenile part of him was mad at her--and he knew it clearly wasn’t any ill intent on her part but at the same time a bitter voice in his head surmised his frustrations as ‘How dare you come here specifically when I am trying not to think about you.’ But then that thought was immediately wiped away as he saw a shape drop out of the clouds. Gray jumpsuit. White wingframes--no yellow glow. Panic flooded his chest. Had something gone wrong with her wings? He looked at the edge of the roof he was on. She was clearly too far away for him to intercept in her descent if he leapt off for her. His stomach tied up in knots, and he felt the cold of his own prosthetics sinking throughout his body. But he could hear no scream on the wind and he squinted at the plummeting Mercy. Her back was toward the ground and her arms were tucked over her chest in an X, almost like she was hugging herself, her long legs trailed skyward as she dropped, then easily, with that dancer-swimmer’s grace, she twisted in mid-air, righting her back towards the sun again, and swinging her legs down toward the earth as those bright feathery lights sprang out from her wingframes again. She caught herself, glided, almost lazily now, towards another section of the training area. Where he saw Liao and Torbjörn waiting. He felt his ears burning again. None of them seemed to notice them as Mercy made a jogging contact with the ground and trotted over to them, but a certain shame caught in the pit of his gut that he had been so caught up in watching Mercy’s flight that he hadn’t even seen them come in. Liao seemed to be taking rapid notes on her tablet as Mercy spoke, and Torbjörn was talking and pointing at her wings and harness. Genji decided to leave the training ground before any of them caught sight of him. He didn’t really like the idea of sneaking off like that, but he didn’t really want to explain that he had been spending the past... however long staring at Mercy either. 

He managed to make it out of the training grounds pretty much unseen, but she caught him in the hallways only a few minutes later. 

“Genji?”

He startled slightly and glanced over his shoulder at her. He had been counting on her showering, cleaning up in the lockers, or something like that, but she was still in the jumpsuit. The sunlight was streaming on her sideways through the hallway window. Her hair was still wind-tossed, her skin flushed, and her goggles were pushed up on her forehead. He said, “Oh--hello, Doctor Ziegler,” while quickly trying to think of a thing he had just been doing that was not being on the training course.

“I thought I saw you on the training course!” she still sounded breathless from her flight.

Shit, he thought.

“Um... yes... just... doing some post-training meditation,” said Genji, itching at his hair.

“I should get on roofs more often. You think I’d have the idea with these things,” she gestured with a thumb back to her wings as she did that brisk, doctorly walk of hers up to him, “But all I know with them is banging them on doorways.”

Genji chuckled a little at the image, but something softened in Mercy’s face that put him on guard.

“It’s good to see you, Genji. I’ve barely heard from you since that last Blackwatch mission, I was getting worried.”

“Worried?” 

“McCree said it got pretty close,” she said folding her arms, “I--” she perked up and her brow crinkled as she looked at his face. 

“What?” said Genji.

She brought her hand up and instinctively he leaned back, the exhaustion of the mission, that wariness from the dropship and Moira’s words still burning in his mind, but rather than reach out to him she touched her eyebrow in that same spot where he now had a scab on his own brow. “This is new,” she said. 

“Mm,” he folded his arms, glancing off, “It’s nothing.”

Her shoulders slumped as her hand dropped from her brow, “Lucky shot?” she offered.

“Huh?” Genji’s eyes flicked back to her. 

Mercy snorted a little, “It’s just... something McCree always said whenever he wound back in the infirmary. ‘It was a lucky shot,’ ‘Cheap shot,’ ‘not a fair fight,’ things like that...”

“It... wasn’t a fair fight,” Genji allowed, and something shifted in Mercy’s expression. That gentle, searching face that told him she wanted to help him but needed to know more. And he wanted to let her in but at the same time it felt like reopening wounds. Wounds he couldn’t put on her in good conscience.  “I’ll be fine,” he added stiffly, “Still getting used to Overwatch missions. It’s not like the Shimada clan where...” he trailed off. 

A pause passed between them.

“You get used to them,” said Mercy, “And from what I’ve heard from Jack, Reyes says you’re already doing well so---” her comm beeped and she checked it and sighed a little. “Ach.. Liao needs more follow-up. I need to get out to the training field. Why an AI expert is getting so fixated on flight systems... I’m a little scared to ask...” 

“You should get going,” said Genji with a nod and a shrug. 

She smiled a little, but that searching look didn’t leave her eyes. She turned to walk off but paused, “Well... if you’re up for it, I’m still making too much coffee down in the lab after hours,” she glanced down, smiling, “I wouldn’t mind some help with that.”

A soft, near-chuckling huff escaped him. “...I’d like that,” he said. She gave him a nod and walked off. The wing frames bobbed behind her slightly with her steps and as he watched her walk off, he felt some lingering relief coupled with and indescribable ache. There was a bit of victory in the idea that Moira was wrong, that he wasn’t playing wounded puppy, that simply Angela was someone he trusted and enjoyed spending time with, with no hope of anything else. He had no delusions of hope of anything else. That was what Moira didn’t understand about him.

We just talk, Genji thought again, watching Mercy walk off, That’s all.