#mana is still shy

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕭REAKING HEARTS ᝰ! S.L.

˚⟡˖ ࣪౨ৎ summary: girlfriend material sophia strikes again, and this time round, she has no intention of keeping how much she cares about you a secret. best be known you don't mess with sophia laforteza when it came to you... she'll be breaking a lot more than hearts thats for sure

disclaimers: obvious!sophia, mostly fluff, protective!sophia, younger member!reader, everybody simping for ya’ll

prev, next (so many of yall are threatening to kill my family if i don’t do more sophia content so here she is 🫶)

Y/N AND SOPHIA PROVING L/NFIZ DEFINITELY DOES (NOT) EXIST PART. 2

17.2k likes | 330k views | 18th Dec, 24

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] join a y/nfiz hangout <3 You and Sophia started a live while waiting for the girls to come home from a schedule

You sat beside the Filipina leader, your collared shirt unbuttoned and creased, your hair a slight mess and your day-old make up still on your face. The fans loved the domestic look you always seemed to serve when you were at home, and it was safe to say they noticed Sophia was too.

Whilst she ranted on about some silly story you had already heard her tell a million times, you checked yourself out in the camera, the crease in your white shirt collar gave you an itch you desperately needed scratched.

Your hands came up to pop open the collar to your shirt more, revealing your bare chest down the low V cut of the button-up. The fans had begun tuning Sophia’s story out too, because gradually, the chat flooded with comments on your peculiar choice in styling, which caught the attention of the rambling woman. She glanced between you and the comments on the screen, her hand instinctively shooting up to grab your shirt.

user01 raw. next question.

user02 Omg she’s actually tryna kill us w the fit

user03 don’t be shy pop it open a little more ^^

user04 y/n baby save it for the bedroom

“Yo, watch it,” Sophia warned, adjusting your collar so you would be covered up to the base of your neck.

Your hands grab hers gently as you chuckled at the tense expression on her face. “Fia, calm down, I’m like twenty-one, I can wear an open-collared shirt if I want to.” You nodded towards the thirsty comments, smirking. “Besides, it sounds more like the fans want me to.”

Sophia grimaced, her face twisting into something negative before adjusting her sitting position so she was in front of you. She was in an oversized hoodie, so it shielded your body from the camera perfectly.

“Absolutely not if I have something to say about it,” she shook her head, moving her body so she would be shielding you away from the camera. “What’re you all looking at, hm?”

user05 dang baby ain’t nobody tryna snatch her😭

user06 It’s okay cuz if y/n was mine I would gatekeep too

user07 ntm on my girl sophia yall know damn well you’d do the same thing if y/n was your girlfriend

user08 SOPHIA SHARING IS CARING

You sighed, lips quirked at the older woman’s antics. “Can I talk to my people, Laforteza? Or are you gonna hold my shirt like this for the rest of the live?”

“Are you gonna button this all the way up?”

Your eyes widened, “All the way up? What am I, somebody’s Christian mom? Absolutely not!”

“Then yes, the rest of the live.”

user09 sophia confirmed brat tamer

user10 This is too much for my brain man

user11 Idk what’s crazier y/n’s fit or Sophia going all overprotective girlfriend

Eventually, Sophia would shed the hoodie she was wearing and drape it over you, despite your apparent protesting. The friends made note of the way she still seemed adamant on keeping you in the background as your hands peeked through the long sleeves of her oversized sweatshirt.

[ are they looking for a third to their marriage? ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* KATSEYE MANA Dance Practice; Sophia’s behind the scenes interview

All the members were asked to send you a message. You were out sick and couldn’t make it the day they filmed the dance practice (you did eat so hard at MAMA don’t worry), and as the girls were asked about their feelings, their experiences working towards an award show like MAMA and what they took from this opportunity. Sophia, as the leader, her interview was put last, and she got asked the most hard-hitting questions.

She knew you were getting some backlash from being sick that PR day, it made things much more exaggerated, as if you weren’t present for a lot of things.

[ y/n defender till i die. if i see one comment calling her lazy or untalented, i WILL be reporting you ]

The question: “How have you managed to keep yourself motivated and help support the girls through this journey towards achieving such a milestone?” Immediately, Sophia being Sophia begun ranting on about how every member did their jobs amazingly, how she could not be prouder, how she could not imagine herself fulfilling her dream with such a beautiful group of passionate artists. She then spun her rant away from Manon being a pillar behind the scenes to you, whom your manager had asked her to give a message to.

“It’s actually been really disheartening,” she sighed, her wide smile faltering just the slightest. It was obvious, the way you could see genuine emotion seep through the cracks of her pr training. “y/n’s been sick for about a week, she can barely get out of bed and she just—She’s been working especially hard for this, because this has always been a dream of hers. Most days, we have one of our phones on facetime with her at home. You can actually see her following along next to her bed, and she gets teased so hard for it.”

[ my poor baby, i’m glad she put health first ]

Sophia chuckled softly, “That girl—that girl is so stubborn. I’ve told her so many times to just stay in bed and get better soon so she can actually practice with us here, but I never win that argument.” The camera angle switches to a closer look at Sophia’s expression. Her eyes pan from her hands back up to main camera off screen, glossy and brushed with a tinge of melancholy. “It breaks my heart to see her cry. She loves doing what we do, and not being able to do it makes her feel like she’s disappointing everybody. And the girls do a really good job of making sure those thoughts eventually leave, but she’s just so hard on herself. That is… definitely part of what makes her such an amazing performer, but it’s also what we, as a group, as a family—as Katseye, stand for.”

She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. The words, “The members messages to their missing friend:” appear.

“y/n, if you’re watching at home, I love you. The dance room’s not the same without you here, we all miss you, and we really cannot hope any harder for you to feel better soon.” She blew the camera a kiss, “I’ll see you at home. Love you.”

[ she said i love you twice… SHE SAID IT TWICE ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Katseye Christmas Video; a segment of the video had the members paired off and decorating their ugly sweaters, naturally, to atone to popular demand, you and Sophia were coupled up

“Yours is not looking good right now,” you teased, snorting at the third glop of hot glue yanking the little fibres off the sweater. You, yourself, didn’t have the most impressive artistic ability, but you enjoyed watching the older pout and grow fussy whenever you would make a comment about her struggling to bring her vision to life. “What is that supposed to be, Rudolph’s distant cousin Rude elf?”

Sophia rolled her eyes, letting out a whiney grumble. “It’s not even that bad, it has a good personality. Stop judging it!”

[ y/nfiz fans getting fed everyone say THANK YOU HYBE ]

You rummaged through the box of decorations you were provided, feeling your attention momentarily divert from the heat exhuming from the show lights. You pulled out a couple streamers, Christmas balls before you found a particular piece of decor that caught your eye.

Apart from the sweaters, you had to make a hat, and you knew everybody was in competition for the most ridiculous design. Inspiration struck, and you had the best idea.

When the sweaters were done, you slipped it on. Yours was a pastel shade of red, with the words “Wish list: Eyekons” spelt out with stickers. You looped the streams along the sleeves, taking the balls all over the sweater. As you stood in front of the slow-mo camera for your glam shot, you could see Sophia smiling at you in your peripheral. You smiled into the camera, blowing them a kiss with a cheeky wink.

[ she’s so fine i need her i need her i need- *gunshots* ]

Back at your table, you added the last touch of glitter before fully giving the camera another close look at your creation. You turned to the Filipina, who adjusted her on.

“Wait, Fia, you gotta look at this.”

She glanced at the camera, a nervous grimace sprawled across her face as you bent behind the table to pick up your hat. “You and creative genius do not mix, like I have a seriously bad feeling about this—!”

You set the hat on your head, a fedora you wrapped in Justin Bieber Christmas wrapping paper. Around the base tied a long rope of frills, strung at the very front a tiny, dangling piece of mistletoe flailing just inches away from your eyes. You beamed, proud of the hat. You eyed the cameras, before puckering your lips in an exaggerated manner. Your hands clasped together, eyes closed. “I’m waiting.”

[ #thisisthemostiveeverrelatedtoanidol ]

Sophia slapped a hand over her forehead, scoffing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, there’s no way you did that.”

“You gotta respect the tradition, Laforteza, come on!” you ushered, leaning in closer as you pouted. “I want my kiss.”

[ sophia’s stronger than me i would’ve folded right there ]

Sophia eyed something off camera, getting a sleek look of approval from your manager.

“Fine, come here.” She sighed, an amused smile on her lips. She cradled your face carefully, tilting her own head before pressing a gentle kiss onto your cheek. When she pulled back, the camera zoomed in on the lipstick stain nearly touching the corner of your mouth. “Merry Christmas, l/n.”

You shot the camera the widest smile, “I must’ve been a good girl this year, cuz my Christmas wish just came true.”

[ no cuz the editors knew what they were doing keeping this bit in for the starving y/nfiz truthers ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* [ KATSEYE VLOG ] Here are four separate occasions from the same video where Sophia just can’t keep her hands off you

Clip one: You stood up from your seat, second from the left and right in between Sophia and Daniela. You threw pumpkin guts at Lara, who wouldn’t stop making fun of the way you couldn’t balance on your heels earlier when you were filming winx club tiktok’s. Sophia’s hand cupped the back of your skirt, her own pumpkin long forgotten. She pressed the piece of clothing against your thighs, making sure you wouldn’t flash the entire world as you focused on dousing the Indian singer in your pumpkin’s insides.

Clip two: As the six of you waited for Megan to finish up in hair and makeup, Sophia’s arm wrapped around your neck. You, Yoonchae and Manon were deep in conversation about the last time the group was altogether for a schedule, with Sophia mindlessly watching you talk. Fans pointed out her apparent gaze switching back and forth from your eyes to your lips, a small smile perched on her own lips as she watched you joke around with your bandmates.

Clip three: The two of you were pulled aside, tasked to organize the girls into groups to set up a quick little jumpscare for Megan as a surprise to celebrate her official return to Katseye activities since her back injury. Though the video showed a wide are of the studio where you two stood, Sophia seemed adamant on staying just inches away from you, her attention solely fixed on the way your eyebrows furrowed at the ipad they had handed you. Fans noted this as one of the more subtle but iconic l/nfiz moments.

Clip four: As Daniela thanked the fans for tuning in to watch the special Halloween edition of Katseye vlogs, Sophia could be seen grabbing at your hip. Given, her other arm was around Yoonchae, but her hand merely dangled off her shoulder, unlike the sure grip you could see she had on your waist.

[ let’s play fanservice or just gay for the 193837th time ]

*Loud technical difficulty transiition* [ WEVERSE LIVE ] Manon and Daniela being big mouths ;)

“I’m pregnant with talent… I’m pregnant with star quality,” Manon announced confidently, earning a judgemental look from her roommate beside her.

“That’s one way to put it, that’s for sure.” Daniela mocked.

“Where are the others—Okay, hold up, I got this. Let me cook!” Manon set her brush down, raising a finger, the other hand pointing at that finger. “Lara’s out with her sister, Yoonchae’s sleeping next door right now, and… Megan’s still at home seeing her family.” Daniela hummed, “Yeah, her flight’s tomorrow.” Manon nodded, “Yeah, so Megan’s not back yet. And Laffy and n/n are out on their little date right now.”

Daniela squealed, slapped her in the arm, “Stop! People are gonna take that outta context!”

Manon faked a scared gasp, going back to fixing her hair. “Hybe, if you’re watching, I didn’t say that.”

user01 l/nfiz on a date… i can die happy now

user02 MANZ JUST CONFIRMED L/NFIZ LESGO

user03 never EVER pr train this woman

“Yeah, wait, I think Sophia posted it.” Daniela pulled up a Weverse post Sophia had put up not long ago of her in a movie theatre in front of a movie poster. “y/n’s been meaning to watch the movie for her favourite actress and Sophia, of course, agreed to go with her. They’re getting us dinner on the way home, so I’m praying y/n does the shopping. Sophia always tries to trick us into eating healthy.”

“Yeah, she thinks she’s slick too,” Manon snorted, “Let’s be so for real though, y/n opens her mouth and I ain’t ever heard Sophia respond with ‘no’, that’s all I’m saying.”

user04 Manon is so messy I love her

user05 so she’s a down bad girlfriend huh…

user06 manon is a mindset i want to embody

“Yeah, y/n just exists and Sophia’s smitten. Bro, last time they went out for a ‘quick grocery run’, they came back with bags on bags of shopping. I know this little gold digger did not pay with her own money,” Daniela chirped, “I was in the living room when Sophia’s dad called to ask why her card was maxed out.”

Manon sighed, “Chat, let me tell you, Sophia spoils y/n rotten. And I mean, rotten. This woman don’t need no sugar daddy, she done made a sugar momma outta Laffy.”

“Sophia plays favourites. I don’t appreciate it.” Daniela joked.

[ so basically sophia’s THAT type gf, ok, ok… taking notes for science rn ]

[ambrosiagourmet]

Little details from Falin's (final) resurrection that I love:

when they say that they will need to rebuild her lower body, they seem to mean it pretty literally. There are scalpels and other surgical instruments on the table nearby, and that part is left to the elves to lead due to the difficulty. I wonder what kind of mix of magic and physical skill is needed to repair and recreate a body like that.

Both Laios and Marcille contribute mana to help bring her back...

but we don't get to hear exactly what they say. Those words are left for them and them alone.

During Falin's meal, the little dragon is hungry too...

so she shares her meal with it.

Though Falin's dress is whole when we first see it, after she consumes the dragon meal, the bottom of it begins to fray in a way that resembles the veins we see being reconstructed with her body while she eats.

three just in this set of panels - the bowl is there because she's been sleeping for some time (days?? weeks???) and they have been feeding her.

Marcille chewing on her sleeve while she sleeps.

And the fact that Izutsumi was holding vigil right alongside the rest of them.

Laios just talking to & then hugging Falin right over Marcille.

Speaking of the wait - how long was it? They'd almost given up?? They must have waited so long for her to wake up, sleeping right next to her bed the whole time.

The cuddle pile..... Falin looks so (lovingly) annoyed bless her.

This absolutely brutally dark joke that literally only could have come from Chilchuck. Holy shit buddy ^^;;

Somewhat relatedly, Senshi making sure to mention the curry that they used to lure in & kill her. Note Marcille's face in the background.

Izutsumi having waited there the whole time, but still being shy. Plus how she hides behind Laios. Truly the cat of all cat girls.

This line from Marcille kind of seems like its her being overly protective of Falin (as she was after the first resurrection), until you realize that...

It's probably more because she knows there is a big crowd outside and Falin is still in a nightgown.

Other small details in this part:

Embarrassed Shuro averting his gaze, while Kabru keeps trying to snoop even after Marcille pulls Falin back inside (snoopy Namari too, though she's a little more justified than him)

Senshi & Chilchuk go off together to make food, while Izutsumi (grumpily) accepts a proper introduction.

Wherever they got this outfit & cloak for Falin, they also seem to have shared similar ones ones with...

Laios, Chilchuck, and Yaad. I think its cute that they look like they either bought a bunch of similar cloaks, or were provided them as gifts.

And, of course,

This smile C:

[ririleil]

witch and vampire // r. suna

tags: best friends to lovers, fantasy mythological au but in modern era, vamp!suna x witch fem!reader, suna has tattoos and is a simp, fem!reader finds him strangely endearing, both of them are kinda FREAKS, wc: 3k

cw: contains blood, swearing, and mild/suggestive themes of sexual content (they haven't gone all the way dw) so please proceed with caution

more a/n are found at the end. most of all, hope you guys enjoy!

sigils with infused mana hovered around your workspace— its dark ominous glow casted all around the walls of your little witch hut. the glow reflected on the glass vial that was neatly arranged on a stand on your work table. 

the herbs you bought from a collector were dried, crushed, and left alone in a mortar and pestle, and the burnt candle wax dripped over its hold onto the floor, the waxy bits of it splatting on the old books you left open on the messy ground.

your fingers trailed over the pages of an ancient tome, one that you recently traded over with the artifact you had picked up on a cave during one of your travels. you muttered incantations under your breath as you carefully and telepathically stirred the contents of your little bubbling cauldron on top of the table.

you were locked in, that’s literally the simplest way to put it. you were creating a potion for a client and you were so deep in the process of thaumaturgy.

too deep to even notice the persistent knocking that's been going at it on your door.

it was just a light knock, knock, knock at first

then a few more, heavier and louder this time. like a thump, thump, thump.

then, a resounding BAM! BAM! BAM! so thunderous it rattled the doorframe.

but you heard none of it because you were too focused on what's going on in front of you. 

then suddenly, a gust of cold wind rushed in, carrying a scent of something metallic. it left a chill down your–

“why the hell weren't you picking up your phone?” 

you shrieked. the sudden, slithering voice in your ear gave you a fright and made you jump from your seat, knocking over the glass vial on your table.

the vial flew off but a hand shot out to catch it midair before it could shatter on the floor. long and rough but precise fingers brought it back to its rightful place. you whipped your head around, heart still hammering on your chest, to see yourself face to face with suna.

he stood there behind you, clad in his ejp varsity jacket and loose pants, his tall frame caging you in. 

his face— your faces, to be exact, were too close to each other. close enough that you could see the sharp glint of his golden eyes, an indication of a vampire. his eyes were slightly dilated and the grip on your wrist was firm– too firm. 

“shit, suna! you disrupted my potion-making! do you realize how dangerous that was?! the whole thing could’ve exploded!”

suna said nothing nor did he move. his broad frame slightly hunched as if too exhausted to stand up properly. 

“i knocked a thousand times. but you didn't notice. so i broke the door and got in.” suna muttered, voice slightly rougher than usual and breath labored and shallow. you could even feel the subtle trembling on his fingers when he held a tight grip on your wrist. 

“you broke the door?” you said with surprise and disbelief at the same time, looking out behind him to the door to see the knob broken and on the verge of falling off. 

“suna, what's wrong with you–” 

your voice got caught in your throat as it finally sinked in. the vampire's eyes burned with something more primal. something starved. his fingers, normally lazy and gentle on your skin, were harshly digging into it leaving marks and just shy of breaking it. his jaw was clenched, fangs slightly bare, and his entire, sturdy body tense with restraint. 

you had seen this before. and it almost didn't end well.

you met his distressed gaze head on.

“you haven't eaten anything in days, have you?”

.

.

.

“so you're telling me, you ran out of blood bags and back-ups. your provider is out of town. you're somehow and surprisingly broke as hell right now despite being one of the most high paying athletes in the country and you're incredibly thirsty– hungry. whatever. to the point you're losing control? why the hell haven't you acted as soon as possible?” 

suna exhaled sharply, leaning against the table. “...thought i could hold on much longer.”

you sighed, rubbing your temples. “yeah, and look where it got you. you should've said something sooner.” 

“yeah, well you weren't answering your damn phone.” 

“excuse you, i was busy doing potion making. my work. i didn't have time to answer my damn phone.” you hissed with irritation dripping in your tone, making suna look away to avoid your gaze. 

suna’s sudden disruption had completely thrown off the potion making and now, the potion is completely unstable. the cauldron turned into a horrible shade of brown, puffing out black smoke, and leaving an acrid smell that filled the room. 

what a waste of materials, you thought as you raised a hand. lifting your fingers with a swish, you willed magic into levitating your cauldron and dumping it into the waste basin nearby. you gruntingly and absentmindedly massaged your wrist afterwards, applying a bit of pressure on it to soothe off the lingering pain from suna's grip. 

the vampire studied your actions and without a word, went closer to you. 

he took your hand and rubbed circles over the sore spot, touch gentler this time compared to his strength moments ago. this small gesture was nothing short of an apology you could tell. 

then you reflected. despite everything, this level of familiarity—lingering touches and close proximities—between you two wasn't unusual. you both had been friends for years— grown close to the point of comfort (that's beyond just friends) in ways neither of you cared to acknowledge.

“figured. you were always one to get so immersed in your work.” he commented as he massaged your wrist. 

you watched him carefully, noticing the slight raggedness of his breath, his furrowed brows, and his fangs as he parted his lips to speak. 

suna was holding himself back. he always did. he was never one to fully embrace his vampiric nature and let his hunger consume and take control of him. 

magic could've helped him. just a little. but not even it could fully satiate a vampire's natural instinct to be fed. to drink. to ingest blood. not when a hunger that has been gnawing at his skin, itching him to finally devour after holding back for too long. 

it fascinated you. quite weirdly.

though, you felt quite bad for him so you ran your free hand through his hair, petting him and feeling the soft dark brown locks on your palm. hoping it would soothe him a little.

“how bad is it? your hunger, i mean.”

he didn't answer right away. 

“you wouldn't want to know the answer to that, so don't ask.” he huffed, releasing your hand. 

that bad, huh. you thought. 

“i think i have vials of synthetic blood in my storage. let me go check––”

before you could even move, suna held you by the arm. 

“none of that. no. i don't want something fake. the real deal is what i want. the last time you made me drink synthetic blood, i puked that shit out. did you forget?” 

his voice dropped lower now, almost a growl. the tension in the air was thickening and becoming even more serious, borderline dangerous. and what he said was true; in comparison to true blood, synthetic substitutes tasted like awful, dirty plastic and it could barely satisfy a vampire’s hunger.

“i didn't forget, suna. i just thought it would suffice for the meantime.” 

suna exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes gleamed with restraint as his jaw clenched so tight you could see a muscle jump in his cheek.

“you don’t get it, y/n” he muttered, voice rough, almost cracking with the weight of his need. 

“nothing else works. nothing even comes close.”

the space between you both buzzed with something volatile, something intimate in its intensity. 

if nothing else—and no one else—could satisfy suna, 

then who else but you?

“i want the real deal.” suna stated his desires once more.

“so you're asking me. my blood, specifically” 

“yeah.” his voice cracked. 

“you are so weird.” you laughed. 

“it's not funny, y/n. help your friend out, will you?”

you let out an exasperated sigh. “you're being aggressive and moody, suna.”

“then help me right away.”

“you do realize that there are people out there whose blood is more accessible, right?”

his golden eyes then locked onto yours, unwavering. 

“but i want you.”

“and why me?” 

silence.

for the many years you've known suna, you had always wondered how long it would take for him to ask this of you. how long he would last before his instincts won. how long he would finally have the chance to devour a witch such as you. 

freaky thought yes, but a thought nonetheless. 

suna's sigh broke the silence.

“honestly, i…” he ran a hand through his hair. 

“you're… actually the last person i wanted to go to for this because i don't want to fuck things up— our relationship and all the other good things we have. but i couldn't think of anything else.. i couldn't think of anyone but you. i'm so starved, y/n. please. i don't know if i could hold on for much longer.”

you sighed, rubbing your temple. 

guess you can't really help it. 

“alright. i'll give you my blood. ”

“fuck, okay. great. give me your hand"

.

.

. 

you let suna guide you to your sofa. he sat beside you, his fingers tracing along your wrist.

"we're really starting this now?"

"yeah. what better time than the present?” 

he lifted your arm, he puts his face close to it, nose brushing against the vein on your antebrachial

"i can feel your pulse here.” he whispered softly against the supple flesh. “fresh blood. so warm.”

a shiver ran down your spine when he licked the skin there— moist, slow, deliberate. he then pressed a kiss to the spot, and your breath hitched.

he didn't need to do that. 

"don't worry. it'll sting a bit but then the runes would take effect."

“what?” 

then he immediately took a bite, fangs sinking deep into your skin. 

you winced, a stinging sensation came first. then a burn. you could feel the searing pain of his fangs breaking into the surface of your arm, blood seeping out from your skin. 

but then something else entirely. something tingling. some kind of warmth spreading throughout your entire body. 

this wasn't pain.

this was…

pleasure. 

“s-suna—w-what did—” you stammered, your hands flying up to clutch his arm, fingers trembling against the firm muscles beneath his jacket.

he didn’t answer. just held you closer, sucking deep, drinking in slow leisure. blood trickled down your arm as your body grew light and heat pooled beneath you. your vision blurred and cheeks flushed.

“stop—” you tried to pull away but suna’s hand shot out, snaking his arm around your waist in a firm and unrelenting hold. his touch wasn’t cruel, but it was heavy with a warning.

stay still.

it felt raw, immediate, and strange… like everything happening all at once. but there was tenderness in the way he held you against him. something starved but in an entirely different way that transcended just hunger. 

it was different. 

it was intimate. 

although if he doesn't stop, you might have to knock him out with magic. 

suna finally released you, mouth letting out a soft pop as his eyes finally met your gaze head on. he licked your blood that was smeared on his lips, eyes hazy and heavy-lidded. golden irises nearly swallowed by his pupils.

“fuck.” he heaved, voice hoarse yet delightful as if he tasted the sweetest fucking thing on earth that not even the ambrosia of the gods could be compared to the taste of your delicious blood. 

“oh fuck, you tasted so fucking good.”

your breathing was uneven and you couldn't think nor speak straight. you felt faint under his gaze, causing your legs to tremble. the moment your strength faltered, suna caught you without hesitation.

“woah hey, you good?”

“suna… those– they were… those are runes.. are—”

his lips quirked into a lazy, satisfied smile. 

“yeah,” 

before you could say anything, suna shrugged off his yellow jacket, revealing the black compression shirt underneath that tightly hugged his frame. your eyes immediately caught onto the rising dark markings crawling up from his neck—a thin black slit embedded into his skin that pulsed faintly. 

something in your head clicked, your energy rejuvenated as you saw the familiar ink embedded on the vampire's skin. 

without thinking, you immediately shot forward, ignoring the dull throb and the dripping blood on your arm and the way suna arched a brow at your sudden, reckless approach. you tugged at the hem of his shirt, pushing it up to reveal more of the markings etched into his skin.

“hey, don't just take my shirt off out of nowhere. buy me dinner first.” he chuckled, amused like he expected nothing less from you.

“it's not like I haven't seen you shirtless before.”

“yeah, well, there's a difference between looking and stripping me, you menace.”

“it's just a shirt, suna,” you murmured, leaning in even closer. at this point, you were practically straddling his lap and your fingers were tracing the dark rune along his neck. “what's under here is way more important. now take your shirt off and let me see it!” you demanded. 

“wow, more important than me? okay. so much for being your bestie. amazing. okay wow, she's ignoring me. she's in her own world now and i'm just a mere toy for her to play with. hold me, i feel so used.” suna dramatically deadpanned as you tried to take his shirt off even more. 

you rolled your eyes, not even bothering in dignifying him with a response. 

smirking to himself, suna gently pushed you to adjust his position under you. he finally took and tossed his shirt to the side. 

the tattoo revealed itself in full—a long, intricate trail of black runes and sharp lines that wove down the side of his torso, snaking over the ridges of his ribs. it looked like it was written directly onto his being. it pulsed faintly too, each rune almost seeming to breathe with him, alive and humming quietly under your fingertips.

“suna, this is amazing. these aren’t just any runes— they’re ancient glyphs. they’re supposed to be impossible to replicate. where did you get this?” 

he hesitated to open his mouth for just a second. “i watched you read them many times. kept seeing how your eyes lit up whenever you found a piece no one else could decipher. so i offered myself up. got inked by one of those rogue archivists. i requested him to make something that could make a partner feel good if i feed on them. it costed a lot of money but he said he could try and make it work.”

you stared at him, stunned. “you… basically let someone use you as an experimental subject… for this?”

“for you, actually.” he said simply like it wasn’t the craziest and stupidest thing you’d ever heard.

you shook your head, half-laughing, half-exasperated by his statement. “suna you are fucking insane.”

he gave a lazy smirk and his occasional shrug, but his voice was steady. “maybe. but you noticed, didn’t you?”

and you had. more than just noticed even. the runes resonated with your touch, drawing you closer, syncing with your breath, your pulse, your everything.

as if it was calling out for you. 

“you really didn’t have to go this far just to get my attention.”

“well, you weren’t exactly easy to distract.”

silence settled between you for a moment—comfortable, electric. you traced another line down his side, slower this time.

“do you even know what they say?” you murmured.

“not exactly. asides from its aphrodisiac effect. figured you’d be the one to tell me.” he admitted. 

your fingertips lingered over one of the curved symbols just beneath his ribs, feeling the soft warmth beneath it. the ink was cool, but his skin wasn’t despite being a coldblooded vampire. you could feel him watching you closely—his breath shallow now, like he was holding it back for your sake.

“you let someone rewrite your body in a language you didn’t even understand…” you said quietly, your voice softer now, reverent. 

“...just so I’d look at you?” you confirmed once more. 

his eyes didn’t waver. “and it worked, didn’t it?” 

you wanted to laugh again but it got caught in your throat, tangled in something heavier. something warmer. you’d never thought of him—suna rintarou—as reckless. quiet, yes. brooding, sometimes when something's on his mind. but this kind of gesture? it was devotion disguised as recklessness. 

and it was absurdly, heartbreakingly sincere.

“i should be mad at you,” you murmured, still tracing the runes like they might vanish if you stopped. “i really should. this is dangerous magic. what you did was stupid. you could’ve—”

“i know,” he cut in gently. “but i also knew you’d figure it out if something happened to me. that you'd understand what it meant.”

“you have that immense trust in me?”

“of course.” 

you looked up, and he was already close—closer than before, the faintest edge of hope tugging at his expression. not cocky. not teasing. just there. real and vulnerable.

“you didn’t need to do this to get my attention, you know?” you said, heart beating far too fast now. “you already had it since the beginning.”

the words settled between you like an exhale and for the first time since long, he looked a little unsteady.

“yeah?”

you leaned in then, slowly, deliberately—your hand still resting on his side, over the script he’d carved himself into for you. 

“yeah,” you breathed, just before closing the space between you.

his lips met yours with a kind of intensity that didn’t match his usual nonchalance—like he’d been waiting for this, for you, for far too long. and in a way, maybe he had.

the runes pulsed under your palm as if echoing the feeling blooming between you. 

and then ancient magic finally awakened.

love. 

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed this. this was totally self-indulgent and im sorry if this is in anyway ooc for suna T_T. this fic was inspired by that one certain nsfw va that i won't mention LMAO iykyk and the tattoo from loony's fanart of suna. it's so fcking hot u guys. also this au is set in the timeskip modern setting but with magic and mythical creatures roaming as normal citizens. this fic was in my drafts since last year and probably one of the most challenging that i've ever written.

photo credits: Freaka_LoonyZ, Pinterest

temp. m.list

© ririleil 2025 | do not copy, modify, repost, or translate without my permission

[smellysluna]

Again, And Again, And You

Pilot Chapter

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Word Count: 621

Summary:

You've lived through countless timelines—each one shaped by monsters, magic, and the unbearable weight of knowing too much. Until you wake up in a version of reality where none of that ever happened. No dungeons. No deaths. Just high school… and him. Sung Jinwoo—quiet, intense, and impossibly familiar—is here too, and maybe this time, it'll be you who changes his world.

Notes:

This will eventually become a College AU, if you know what i mean👀

Masterlist | Next

You didn’t remember how your first life ended.

Not clearly, anyway. Just the feeling — the tremble in your knees, the way your hands had stopped shaking only when it was too late. Blood drying on your palms. The smell of something burnt and rotten and wrong. A scream — your own? Someone else's?

Every time you closed your eyes, it echoed.

And then you opened them again.

To a new life.

The Cup of Reincarnation was merciless. It reset your world countless times. You remembered every loop. Every bitter, failed attempt to understand the rules. Every shift in logic, every horror growing worse. The first time, there were no monsters. No dungeons. Then, suddenly, they were there — tearing open the sky and dragging humanity into their sick idea of a game.

By your third life, Hunters existed.

By the fifth, there were ranks. You were born an E-rank. Weak. Disposable. The kind who died on the first floor of a D-rank dungeon. And you did, once.

You stopped counting after the seventh life.

Because nothing ever changed.

You always ended up fighting. Scraping your way up. Building empires from ashes. Learning the systems — mana types, support gear, gate windows, boss patterns. You were always ahead of the curve, and for what? To die again. Reset again. Be thrown into another version of the world where the rules shifted just slightly — enough to keep you on edge.

You had money. Power. Prestige.

In one life, you founded the biggest medical tech company that saved millions of hunters. In another, you brokered the first deal with a nation-state to fund dungeon clearance teams. In your eighth life, they called you The Founder. Not because you asked for it — but because you were the first to act. The first to mobilize. The first to try and save people.

And still, it never mattered.

You died. Over and over and over again. Watching the world crumble under the weight of forces it never understood. Watching people you tried to protect betray you. Use you. Mourn you.

Until he appeared.

He changed everything.

It was your second-to-last life.

You didn’t know what it meant at first. That this quiet, unnoticed boy — Sung Jinwoo — would be the anomaly. The variable. You’d met him before, in other timelines. Briefly. A shy face in the background. A name on a guild registry.

But this time, he was different.

He changed. Became something the world couldn’t control. Became the strongest hunter. And for the first time in your endless, looping existence… you didn’t die. He saved the world.

He saved you.

Not with words or even with direct action. You’d never grown close. But you watched it happen — the way he rose from the bottom and kept going. The way he stared death in the face and refused to break. And maybe that’s what broke you. The realization that someone like him could still exist in the cycle. That hope wasn’t extinct.

And then…

You woke up again.

One last time.

No dungeons. No monsters. No Hunters. No Cup of Reincarnation.

Just… a normal life.

And Sung Jinwoo was there.

You saw him on the first day of high school, two rows ahead of you in math class. Laughing his heart out like he had no worries in life.

You didn’t know if he remembered.

You didn’t even care.

All you knew was that for the first time in lifetimes, the air didn’t taste like ash. The sky didn’t feel like it was falling. The weight on your shoulders… was gone.

You weren’t fighting to survive anymore.

You were breathing. Living. Watching.

And maybe, just maybe—

You could have a normal life.

Masterlist | Next

Taglist: #Open

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Sleeping with Saber and Other Saber

(F:GO) Sharing a bed with Artoria and Mordred

Artoria has two reactions when it comes to sharing a bed with you.

The first of which being: 'Recently summoned, sees herself only as a King and Servant and nothing more'

She doesn't bat an eye at being told to sleep in the same bed, viewing it as practical more than anything.

She views it safer too, since she can rush to protect you at a moments notice, not that Servants really need sleep to begin with, since its only done to reduce mana consumption while maintaining their form.

(Artoria) "Worry not, if anyone tries to intrude, they will deal with me first."

(Y/N) "You're...wearing your full uniform in bed? Armor too?"

(Artoria) "Is that a problem?"

(Y/N) "Isn't that uncomfortable?"

(Artoria) "...Good night, Master."

The second reaction, however, comes after extended time spent with you and once she realizes you view her more than just a tool.

Flustered, not knowing how to react, and especially unused to being treated with affection.

And also admittedly not used to such a small bed during her reign as king.

(Artoria) "You...still want us to share the same bed? I don't want to intrude-"

(Y/N) "Saber, you're fine! I wouldn't offer if I didn't want you here with me!"

At first, Artoria is rather stiff in bed. Her hands are resting on her stomach, her back flat on the mattress.

However, once your relationship progresses, she starts to fidget more, and freezes upon feeling you hold her close. Overtime though, she slowly melts into your embrace and rests easier.

Mordred gladly takes up the offer of a bed, plopping down onto it with her arms and legs completely outstretched.

(Mordred) "Ah! This is pretty comfy!"

(Y/N) "...Mordred."

(Mordred) "Hm? What's up, Master?"

(Y/N) "Can you scoot over a little? You're taking all the space."

To that, Mordred just scoffs and lays on her side, not budging an inch.

(Mordred) "What? Getting all antsy that you gotta share? If you've got a problem, the couch is right there."

During the intial stages of your relationship, you opt to take another room, or sometimes the couch should a situation get particularly dangerous.

Not that Mordred really cared either way, honestly.

As time went on, however, Mordred grew ever so slightly softer for you.

(Mordred) "Oi, Master. If you need to rest, then come over here."

Her usual bravado was gone now, Mordred's voice barely above a whisper as her eyes shifted to the side.

Mordred's breath hitches once she feels your hand in hers, and yet...she doesn't slink away, instead remaining there with her eyes closed.

If you know what's good for you, do not bring up the slight blush or try to fluster her.

Less you want to get kicked back onto the couch with great force.

Sharing a bed with her no matter what is a tiny bit awkward since she's always too shy to directly ask for cuddles or anything romantic like that.

But as long as you have some kind of contact with her, Mordred will be satisfied.

[winged-void]

It is a tricky thing; to create without creating. To construct will where there is none. How would one go about it?  The Mage finds its answer in the strangest of places, on the first floor of its new dungeon home, thanks to the failure of an annoying gnat. 

A stupid little acolyte of the local religion, pious enough to dive into this wretched place and try to bring its god’s impotent light to the dark corners of the world; weak and foolish enough to perish to even the most basic of hazards, now lays at The Mage’s feet, riddled with arrows.

The fool. She never meant for it to kill anyone. It was to keep out wildlife and alert her when adventurers disarmed it. Stupid, stupid wretch. 

What's done is done, it supposes. Its convictions are locked in, it cannot shy from them now. But of course, it reassures itself, it never would have. Turning back was merely an option, never to be invoked.

That option is now gone.

The fool served its master completely, unto death. She must have yet stronger convictions than this poor acolyte, and must be as worthy of service as its master.

Damnable, detestable, disgusting, deferent little being. If he had wanted to live he ought not have entered her dungeon. Annoying insipid proselytizers had haunted it all her life and now this one faced the punishment they all should have faced.

Very well. It always knew it would need kill people to immanentize its vision. Now that was behind it and there was no need to fret. Let it not waste the opportunity.

The Fool was barely alive to begin with, anyhow. It followed only one thing and it followed it to death. To do so is to be a machine.

The Mage focused its mana to its left eye and examined the corpse once more. Thankfully, the soul was still there, clinging to the mortal realm like so many desperate beasts.

Beast. Good. Yes. Good. Yes.

Propping herself up with its staff, the Mage runs to the basement of the small dungeon it has called home for some months now. Good. The direwolf corpse is still there.

With what little strength its sickly form can produce, it drags the decaying corpse back up to the body.

A thing which serves one master is a machine that produces one result. A thing which serves two masters though, must eventually choose. In choosing it will become.

In forcing it to choose, she will create a new will, without creating at all.

The Mage smiles its most wicked little smile.

[anoddworld]

Rift AU Sea Fairy

Dread Trident of the Abyss

From the Rift Visible Universe

She reached to the Moon, yet she was met with freezing ice

A terrible fate has befallen you, Lady of the Sea

Frozen, even to this day, even with her old friends’ help

And here’s two more characters :) and literally to no one’s surprise, it’s two of my favorites

Rift AU Silverbell

Long after White Lily’s death (like hundreds of years later), he inherited the Souljam of Freedom (idk if I want to change its name or keep it). He didn’t know that White Lily went to the Witch’s banquet and couldn’t stop her, though he feels a bit guilty. He’s doing his best to live up to the exceptions that come with wielding a Souljam.

The other Souljam holders don’t know this (except for Golden Cheese, who doesn’t mind at all).

From the Rift Visible Universe

Works in junction with Mercurial Knight to run the Silver Kingdom

Looks after those who fall through the Rift

Contact lenses (or a magical variant of them)

While a sweet n shy boy, he has the second highest confirmed kill count out of all the Sliver Tree Knights, only beaten by Mercurial Knight. Do not the Silverbell

On that topic, he has a killer aim

High mana

Mostly uses plant magic

Rift AU Mercurial Knight

From the Rift Visible Universe

Inherited the powers of the Silver Tree Guardian after Elder Faerie’s death. He was present when the Guardian died, unable to do anything to save him. He doesn’t think he deserves the title or the powers, however he tries to live up to Elder Faerie’s image and legacy

Still is the commander for the Silver Tree Knights, but also runs the Kingdom with Silverbell

Eliminates any horrific or violent creatures that come out of the Rift

Chronic pain, most of which stems from old injuries that never healed quite right and others seem to have no source

He also has some mental health issues, which he tries (and often fails) to repress

Skilled with many weapons, though prefers to use his glaive

Before obtaining the Guardian’s powers, had unusually low mana levels. Now, it’s more normal and slightly on the higher side

Uses mostly ruins and other physical means of magic

[miraculous-thenextspots]

Henri Across different AUs

Since Henri's dad changed, I have come up with new plots for each AU and what Henri is doing in each one (because we eventually have a Spotsverse Arc), and I wanted to share them.

Mad Ben AU + Shadyverse:

So, in Next Spots, the Paris special didn't happen, and Shadybug and Claw Noir didn't get their redemptions. Eventually, Mad Ben grew more powerful, dethroned the Supreme, and took over their apocalyptic world. Emonette and Mad Ben eventually fell in love, and Marinette got pregnant. Just like in Next Spots, she died after giving birth, and Mad Ben trained Henri to be a part of his army, and to be the eventual holder of the Ladybug's miraculous. Shady!Henri is Lord Blots, and he is a part of Mad Ben's army of Chinese miraculous holders, while the resistance managed to put their hands on the American Box.

Negative Ben + Scarlet Lady AU:

Due to Negative Ben not using his omnitrix either for good or bad, he never met Marinette nor Adrien... therefore, "Henri" here isn't his kid. He is actually an Adrinette kid! And his name here is Hugo (Emma and Louis are his little twin siblings who are a pest). Hugo is way more confident and sweeter than regular!Henri. But, he doesn't have many friends due to being a bit shy. He still has a bit of sass to him. Hugo was given the miraculous butterfly to keep the holder of the scorpion and their army under control, while Marinette and Adrien are searching the world for backup.

ML AU by @zoe-oneesama

Anodite!Ben/Gwen 10 + Cocinella AU:

In the universe where Gwen got the Omnitrix, and Ben is the anodite... Cat!Marinette is struggling to handle Ladybug!Lila. Eventually, however, Cocinella's true nature was exposed to the public, and she steals the butterfly miraculous to get revenge on the other heroes. Years passed, and Ben and Marinette had a kid. However, Farfalla (Ladybug!Butterfly!Lila) eventually kills both of them. Now, this Henri, both with the cat miraculous and mana manipulation, is a hero known as Magic Chaos, and he will avenge his parents by putting Farfalla in jail.

ML AU by @nionom

Bad!Ben + Deconstruct AU:

Summing up... that Ben with raven hair and turquoise eyes fell in love with Deconstruct!Marinette, and both became a villainous couple. Marinette had already lost her miraculous, so when Ben was defeated, she wasn't put in jail or anything... but her name was ruined. What the heroes didn't know was that she managed to put her hands on the butterfly miraculous, and is now planning on stealing the ladybug and cat miraculi to bring her husband back. The Henri of this world doesn't get along with his mother. She is overly controlling and they argue a lot. What she doesn't know is that he is the holder of the fox miraculous, and is helping the new Ladybug and Cat heroes fight her.

ML AU by @booksrbetterthanpeople

Cowboy!Ben and No More Capes AU:

Okay, so... this universe kind of differs a lot from Next Spots. The Ben of this world is cowboy themed (the writers of Ben 10 confirmed this universe exists, they just didn't show), and the Ben (who has a yellow omnitrix here) and Marinette of this world were happy for a while, and had their Henri... until Marinette died. Henri was raised by his father and was eventually given an Omnitrix. His Next Spots Spotverse chapter is about him going after Crimson Dame to retrieve his mother's earrings, and Lord Spots need to help his fellow ladybug out.

ML AU by @fayflutter

No Watch!Ben Miraculous!Descendant AU:

So, uh... summing up, the Ben of this world didn't gain an omnitrix cause a miraculous had already chosen him instead. And since miraculous users attract other miraculous users here... they eventually met and had Henri. This Henri here has his own teen superhero team and uses the goat miraculous to make potions.

ML AU by @natedogx15

Ben 23 + SB and IB AU:

... Look, I don't have a good explanation as to how it happened, but it happened. This Henri still has his Marinette, and they are close, but his Ben died when he was young. Although this Henri is still a bit edgy and sarcastic, he is a bit more confident in himself. He eventually becomes the holder of the tiger here, after the new Ladybug chooses him.

ML AU by @/booksrbetter

I will probably come up with more AUs, but for now, that's it.

[necropathys]

An we have a crumb of 5 from the ask game 🤲

5 which is very concisely named two sentences, is a part of apple poly hell also. she's the conclusion of "i hate to rain on your parade" (second part).

crumbs be upon ye:

Dream came back.

He shouldn’t have.

He should’ve kept walking—let the bitter wind scour the heat from his chest, let the ache in his legs drown out the noise in his skull. Should’ve waited until the clawing thoughts dulled, until the burn behind his eyes gave way to something quieter, less volatile. Should’ve let the night bleed through him until he could breathe again.

But he couldn’t.

The anger lived too loud inside him. The betrayal sat sharp beneath his ribs, refusing to settle. If he let this go unspoken—if he let them believe they could keep doing this, over and over, carving into him without cost—then he’d rot from the inside out.

So he returned.

Sol was waiting. Draped across his couch looking akin to a god in repose; looking as if nothing had unraveled. As if the taste of Swap’s mana didn’t still linger in the air, sharp and wrong, staining the floor where Dream had last stood with his fists clenched and his breath stolen.

And Sol—of course—had the gall to smile. To reach out, easy and unbothered, his hand rising as if to draw him in, to welcome him home like some prized possession returned to its shelf.

Like Dream hadn’t left with his hands shaking. Like none of it mattered.

“Don’t touch me.” The words lashed out, sharp and sudden. His voice trembled with fury, not fear, low and taut between gritted teeth.

Sol pulled his hand back, but not once did his expression falter. If anything, his delight grew, curling smugly at the corners of his mouth. “Feisty,” he purred, letting the word linger on his tongue like a sweet secret.

Dream’s chest heaved, wrath and caution colliding beneath his ribs.

A single glance at Shattered—hovering at the threshold like a malevolent eclipse—did nothing to soothe the electricity surging through him. Shattered only watched, impassive, offering no intervention. That indifference ignited Dream’s rage all the more, kindling a fresh wave of resentment he struggled to contain.

And Sol, still smiling, merely tilted his head. The audacity of that smug tilt made Dream’s SOUL twist. He acted as though  Dream was nothing more than a spectacle. A sideshow for his amusement.

“Are you going to do something about it?” Sol crooned, his voice dancing with mockery. His sharpened phalanges hovered just shy of one of Dream’s cheekbones, close enough to threaten, close enough for Dream to feel the ghost of warmth at his skin. “Are you going to punish me, little light?”

He tittered, the sound high and taunting, every syllable steeped in arrogance—like he’d already decided there was no true and proper consequence Dream could inflict upon him. Certain that Dream wouldn’t, couldn’t, do a thing.

And maybe that certainty—smug and gleaming—was what made Dream snap.

He moved before thought could catch up.

One moment, he stood frozen in the air between them. The next, Sol was beneath him, slammed down with a crack of magic and motion, his back kissing the floor. Dream’s hands were iron at his shoulders, knuckles tight, fingertips seething with unexpressed, wild magic. The air around them hummed, tension strung taut as wire, static snapping at the edges.

Sol laughed. Of course he did. Bright, breathless, delighted—as if this was precisely the reaction he’d been courting all along.

The sound burned.

It poured gasoline into the fire roaring in Dream’s chest, turned the hurt sharp, turned his restraint brittle. He didn’t think. Didn’t plan. He only lunged forward in the space of a breath.

And kissed him.

Hard. Desperate. As if he could press silence into Sol’s mouth, as if force could rewrite what had been done. Like an exorcism of every tumultuous feeling he could no longer contain. His teeth clacked against bone. His magic burned. But still—he kissed him.

He felt Sol inhale sharply, the breath hitching just enough to satisfy something dark inside him. He could feel the heat beneath his hands, the simmer of immense power that vibrated just under Sol’s bones, tamed only by Dream’s hands pressing him into the floor.

It was intoxicating, dizzying—fury and power colliding in a single moment, balanced on a knife’s edge between violence and something darker. This wasn’t an act of affection—it was an assertion of control, a desperate attempt to claw something back.

[queenmuzz]

Five Stages of Grief: Chapter IV

Depression

Read it HERE on Ao3

It feels a bit strange, Emmrich thinks, to have so many people in his quarters.  Even before Tearstone, when there was light and hope and love in his life, very few people entered his study, save for when they needed his services.

He was fine with that, after all, he was used to solitude.  He was perfectly happy living his own life by himself with only Manfred as company

…And then Rook came along and changed everything.  It wasn’t just that she was a fellow Mourn Watcher, well versed in the ways of the dead.  It wasn’t just that she was kind, thoughtful, selfless, willing to befriend and aid anyone.  She held no judgments on the possessed assassin, she enjoyed listening to Bellara’s conversation on ancient elven artifacts despite not understanding any of it.  She somehow managed to endear herself to Taash, even with the latter’s obvious dislike of necromancy.   She was brave… oh so brave.  At Weisshaupt, when she had willingly placed herself in the line of danger to take down the archdemon.  At the Blackthorne Manor, where she shielded him from the monstrosity’s deadly aura. She could have had her pick of any of her companions, but she had  chosen him. Even now, he still does not know why she chose him.  But now… he would make himself worthy of her.

Manfred places the bar of pure raw lyrium upon the desk, the only being able to touch it without suffering from ill effect (He forbade even Harding to touch it, he couldn’t risk anyone else getting hurt).  

“Do you need help?” Neve asks, but he shakes his head.  He cannot afford to have any distractions.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and begins to channel the mana at his fingertips.  

Begin the infusion.

It’s like making a cake, measuring the magic in precise amounts, layering it as he folds the bar a specific number of times.  Creation Magic first, allowing it to shape the blade into its rough shape.  Entropy Magic, to modify its magical absorption.  A hint of Primal Magic to provide the ‘spark’.  And lots of Spirit Magic.  He’s thankful that his training had him specialize in it, as many other countries’ Circles shy away from it, confusing it with blood magic.  He sandwiches each type of magic between layers of lyrium, cross hatching so that every surface of the blade is equally suffused.  His focus must not waver, any mistake could render the blade useless, or even worse, cause a backlash that could kill him.  He feels drops of sweat drip down his brow as channels more Spirit Magic, infusing the blade with the fade itself.  

She would love to have seen this, she always loved the way his hands moved as he did a corpse whispering. Focus…

His mouth is dry, and he can hear Harding whisper, “Can you hear that?”

“Nope.” Taash’s voice.  “Hear what?”

“It sounds like a song… but a sad song”

“Perhaps it's the lyrium you hear,” Neve’s voice is soft, “you’re more sensitive to it than the rest of us.”

The blade needs more Entropy magic, to balance it out, and his fingers flick.  

Her eyes full of wonder and admiration as he showed her the depths of the Fade.

“Emmrich… that was… amazing! I wish I could see the world of magic as you do all the time”

FOCUS!

“Emmrich, are you alright?”  Lucanis’s voice is concerned, and he senses his approach.

“I’m-I’m fine.” He insists, as he begins the final infusions, a large amount of Spirit Magic flows from him. His entire body is trembling from the exertion.  This is taking more out of him than anything he’s ever done.  He keeps his eyes closed, but he can picture the green twinkling lights that always occur during these rituals.  

He sees her delight as she reaches for one light, holding it in the palm of her hand like it’s a snowflake.

Emmrich Volkarin, FOCUS!

The blade is almost finished, but is missing something.  He can’t put his finger on it.  There’s a presence the original blade had that he can’t replicate.  Still, he presses on, mixing a touch more Primal magic to help keep the lyrium malleable for the last adjustments.  No, that’s not it. “Something’s wrong, the song is changing… it’s getting angry”  

He can feel a strong pushback now, something that he attempts to ignore, pushing himself to his utter limits to channel every last bit of magic he has into the blade.  He cannot fail.  He MUST not fail.

“Emmrich!”

A blow of energy blasts him back, and he blacks out.

He comes to, as something is poured into his mouth, tasteless yet chalky.  He feels the grit settles between his teeth and he tries not to cough it up as it irritates his throat.

“Easy Emmrich…easy…” Lucanis’s voice is calm, yet tinged with worry. “Get me another Lyrium potion.”  He blinks as Manfred hands the assassin a flask, who uses his teeth to remove the cork, spitting it to the side, before bringing it to his lips.  “Drink.”  

He resists. He’s not a child.  He won’t be treated like one, but even the act of trying to push it away takes energy he realizes he doesn’t have. SMELLS LIKE ROCK AND BLOOD! He hears Spite with his ever so helpful commentary as he reluctantly allows the liquid to flow down his throat.  He blinks, trying to figure out how he ended up in this state.  It’s been decades since he’s drained his mana reserves to the point of exhaustion.  It takes a few moments to remember what he was doing that would take so much energy…

“The Blade!”

He tries to sit up, but that takes up so much of his energy, that if it wasn’t for Neve on his other side, supporting his shoulder, he’d probably collapse on the floor.  But his own condition doesn’t matter, what he needs to know is if the ritual was a success.

“It’s here…” Harding kneels down by his side, holding it reverently, like it’s being presented to an Orlesian Chevalier at his induction.  It looks exactly the same as the original, bright azure that contrasts with the lingering green sparks that linger in the air.  He takes it,  feeling its weight.  To an untrained eye, it’s like he’s holding the very same  blade Solas created untold ages ago.  The same shape, same weight, same texture..  But holding in his hands, using his dwindling reserves of magical energy, he peers deep within it, trying to sense if that amalgamation of magical energies has combined to create a sustaining deep well of power.

He senses…

“Shit. Is he gonna be okay?”

“Professor, are you alright?”

“Breathe, Emmrich…breathe”

“Mierda.  Don’t scare us like that, Emmrich.”

There’s something there, small, barely detectable. The ritual was a success…but a failure all the same.  The dagger will never be able to kill a God.  At best, it may be able to rip open the veil, once… and for only a brief moment.

 All his work… all those sleepless days and nights.  The research. the note taking.  The mathematical calculations. The countless cups of coffee.  The depletion of almost every scrap of magical energy in his body has resulted in…

A fancy Lyrium paperweight.

Where had he gone wrong?  Had he mixed the Lyrium too quickly?   Too much Entropy magic suppressing the flow?  Not enough Spirit energy? Had the original included some ancient ingredient that was unknown to mages nowadays?

 Had his momentary loss of concentration been the deciding factor?  

That last thought is what almost breaks him.  That he caused this all to fail.  He holds it against his chest, embracing it as if it was her as he takes shaky breaths.  He’s falling apart at the seams, that carefully maintained facade is beginning to show its cracks.  But even now, in front of the rest of the companions, he must remain strong.  So he shoves the self hatred, the anger, the sorrow down, its glass like shards ripping down his throat, before settling down into his stomach, along with the blood of an ancient wronged people.

“I- we… still have work to do.”  is all he can say.  He can’t bear to tell them that he’s failed them, that he’s failed her.

--------

The next week and a half is a blur to him.  He tries to start from scratch, to look for other ways to break the impenetrable prison she seems to be held in, but the books Manfred retrieves for him about pocket areas of the Fade are nearly unreadable.  He can’t seem to focus on anything, save for his failures.  The only straw he can grasp is that if he can find out where she is located, a place where the veil is very thin, he may be able to cut through to her with the almost worthless knife. But only once. So he must be certain that it’s the correct place. 

Lucanis brings him food that he makes a show of eating, if only to satisfy the man that he’s not wasting away.  Neve checks up on his progress, but as it's all under a guise of checking up on him specifically, so he resists the urge to snap at her.  Not that he has the energy to feel much emotion anymore.  Taash and Harding drag him out of his room for a walk, every other day, the latter asking about the nature of dreams, the former remaining silent, solid, and supportive as a tombstone. It helps, a little, the way they care for him, even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it. 

He thinks back to the words the Dread Wolf said, although he never wants to hear that voice again

“The Rook had to be sacrificed so that the King would not be captive in a prison of regrets”

Perhaps he wasn’t speaking in metaphors.  Perhaps that prison, the one capable of containing a GOD, needed chains that were stronger than even the veil itself.  He knows how hard it is to escape regret, as he’s struggling against it right now…  The only way Solas was able to slip past its impenetrable walls was a bait and switch maneuver.  But Zea is not just some chess piece that can easily be taken off the board.  She must be fighting with all her might to find a way to get out.  So for her, he keeps researching, keeps studying, keeps himself running, both mentally and physically, as he searches for the way to reach her.

-----

He must have drifted off, he thinks.  Because he’s not in the Lighthouse anymore.  In fact, he’s never seen a place in the Fade like this.  The Fade is a strange place, with some areas covered in rapidly growing trees and flowers, others a cacophony of horns and trumpets as eternal wars are waged.  He’s seen libraries that contain every thought ever conceived, even a slimy bog where the world's fears congregate (He hates that one in particular, that’s where there is constantly falling masonry, and a tombstone with his name carved on it).

This place is bare rock, no vegetation, no spirits. It may have once been a thriving city, he thinks, as there are remnants of paved walkways and columns, but there’s a constant wind that howls like a wolf that has worn down most of the features.  He’s been told that the Necropolis was dreary and dark, but compared to this place, his home is a verdant flower garden. He’s never felt a place so lifeless, and never has he felt alone…

That’s probably what makes the figure in the distance stand out crisply against the grey horizon.  His pace picks up as he approaches it.  He’s still far off,  and  her back is turned to him but there’s no mistaking who it is.  He can see her greathammer slung on her back, her shield on her arm when she’s not fighting, but not certain that she’s safe.  There’s the way she stands, favouring her left leg just like she was at the end of the battle.  He’s now running towards her, but the ground is treacherous, and he stumbles over the rocky terrain more than once.  And now he can see that she’s not alone.  There’s a figure with her, shorter and stockier, at first he thinks it's a child, before realizing it’s a…. Dwarf?  That confuses him, as aside from Harding, he hasn’t heard of any dwarves entering the Fade.  

“ZEA!”  He screams, but the wind takes his words and blows them back in his face.  Still, he keeps running until he skids to a stop. In front of him is a crevasse so deep, and so wide that there’s no way he can cross it.  Countless stone hands reach out on both sides, as if they are trying to make the crevasse wider.

She’s so close, and yet so far.  If he yells her name out louder, she’ll hear him, she’ll turn around and see him, he can tell her how much he loves her, that he will stop at nothing to bring her back.  But the howling gales rip the words out of his throat and cast them into the abyss.  He hears a creak, and the once stable rock he’s standing on shifts, then slides into the darkness, leaving him to plummet along with it.

She never turns around.

----

He blinks his bleary eyes, and the side of his face feels cool.  There’s another creak, and then an embarrassed gasp.

“Oh professor, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up!”  He sits up, realizing he’s passed out at his desk, a stack of scrawled notes, the last trailing off into an illegible line.  There’s something on his shoulders, and he realizes Manfred must have placed his coat on him like a blanket.  It's small little things like this that keep him going. 

“It’s fine,” he admits truthfully, not wanting to go back into that hellish landscape of his dreams.  He forces a polite smile on his face, “What can I do for you?”  

“I wanted to go into Rook’s room…” she hesitates as she studies his face for any reaction.  He doesn’t really have the energy to do anything but remain passive.  “See if there was something in her room that could help us. But…” she kicks her feet, “I didn’t feel comfortable walking in someone else’s room uninvited, and since you were the one closest to her…”  

He slowly gets up, feeling his joints protest, and nods his head.  He’s been dreading this moment, but with Harding at his side, the pain might not feel so bad.

The room still smells like her.  There’s hints of her perfume that lingers in the air, of jasmine and tuberose that she only wore when she wasn’t intending to go out to battle.  Her blue cloak that shielded her from the bright sun lay hung over the chaise lounge, as if she had thrown it off after a long day of shopping in the market.   Even her pack, where she carried all of her necessities when they travel, is still here, leaning against that nonfunctional eluvian they found while out in Alathan and had stored in her room.  He can’t help but look at his reflection and notice how haggard he looks.  He’s lost weight, and if he felt he was too old for Rook on the night before the battle, he certainly looked twice as old now, with the bags under his eyes, and the sunken cheeks now covered by an ill maintained beard.  He looks closer to death than the corpses he’s attended all these years, or like one of those evil necromancers that play the villain in those ridiculous tales in the south.

“Oh… I found something!”  Harding picks up a carefully folded series of pages, set beside a stack of journals and romantic literature,  sealed with red wax, along with an envelope. He can’t make out the words, but he can see at a glance it’s Zea’s distinctive Nevveran writing, highly formalized with strict angles, no doubt from learning to read and write by studying tombstone engravings.  “It’s addressed to us, and this…” she holds out the envelope to him, “has your name on it.”  He doesn’t want to take it, doesn’t want to know it exists, because he knows exactly what the letter contains.  Hadn’t he been writing a letter that night before their argument?  Where he had prepared for things in case he did not return?  Of course, he had burnt that letter as soon as he had gotten back to the Lighthouse, as he did any of those types of letters.  But to have hers in his hand… that meant accepting something he could not bring himself to do.  Still, he forces himself to reach out and take it with trembling hands and study her handwriting, the wax seal whose impression looks so familiar… it takes him a few moments to realise its the impression of a skull, specifically of the brooch she once wore.

“Oh…” she gasps, and he can hear the grief in her voice as she comes to a realization at what she has om hands, “It’s a… will. She looks up at him, and even in the dim light of the aquarium, he can see her eyes are glassy with unshed tears.  “Should I open it?  I mean… she’s not dead… but she’s gone…oh, I don’t know what to do.”

“Open it, share it with the others,” he gently advises her, placing a hand of support on her shoulder, “when we get her back you can laugh at whatever confessions she made.”  

She looks at the letter he holds, “Are...you going to read yours?” 

No is what he wants to say.  He does not want to break that seal, to go down the first step of healing from the wound he has taken.  He’s afraid of what words she wrote down.  Perhaps she wrote them right after their argument, and she scribbled them out in anger, that the last words he had from her were words of hatred.

But instead, as he makes it back to his study, he slips a finger under the edge of the envelope, trying his best to damage the seal as little as possible.  He will accept whatever words she has given him, spoken in anger, or sadness, or love.  

My Dearest Emmrich:

I’m so sorry about that argu

Of course I would open my big fat mouth and

I know nothing I will say will take the pain away.  No apology, no self-deprecatory joke will bring relief.  I know this, I’ve seen it happen many times as loved ones interred their dead.  It is a wound that only time may close, and even then, there will be scars.

So instead of dwelling on how and why I am no longer with you, let me bequeath you this:  Who I was and what you mean to me.  You know the basics, of me being an infant foundling left on top of a pile of bones.  It was the bedrock of who I was. That from the very start, I was unwanted.  Unneeded. To be discarded when inconvenient.   When the magic talent I was certain would manifest eventually never came, I fell deeper into despair.  I would never be a proper necromancer.  At best I could be a weapon, a bulwark to protect the living and the dead.  And Maker, how I tried to find my place in the Mourn Watch, tried to earn the respect of my peers.  Only to be cast out when I could not even do that.  Yes, Varric and the others helped in their own ways, but I still felt like I was not worthy of anything.

And then, I met you.  You, a man of exquisite talents and grace.  A man who saw the world of the living and dead as I did,  a man of incredible empathy and intelligence.  You did not look down upon me, nor did you even pity.  Instead, your words were of admiration and respect.  You were like a mirror being shown to one who had never encountered one before.  You saw me as I could not even see myself.  That I was worthy of your love and affection.  And slowly, you chipped away at the self loathing that had accumulated, and made me realize the truth.  That I was not only worthy in your eyes, but in the eyes of everyone else.  The only regret  is that I had not met you sooner.  Perhaps if I had gone to the memorial gardens to enjoy the ambience more often instead of viewing it as another chore to tend the graves, we may have encountered each other, and had more precious moments to spend together.

When you stated your desire to become a lich, I would never stand in your way, as who was I to tell you otherwise?  But secretly, in my deepest thoughts, I desired you to remain mortal, not because I preferred flesh to bone, but because I knew that you would lose something essential to you.  When you gave up your dream to bring Manfred back, and I saw the delight and joy in your eyes, I loved you even more. There, I said it. I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Like I said, I cannot take the pain away, nor your fear of death, but I say one thing now:  That no matter how long it takes, I will remain on the threshold, waiting for your arrival. I can only pray that it gives you peace to know that we will find each other again.

Yours in eternity, Zea Ingellvar

He reads it.  Then he reads it again.  And again.  And again.  He reads it until a splash of water drips on it, and he quickly pushes the letter away, lest he damage her precious handwriting any more. He’s secretly thankful he’s at his desk because had he been standing, he would have collapsed to his knees.  There’s a sound in his throat that’s been begging to be released for the past few weeks, and he can’t hold back any longer, he lets the pain, the anguish, the fear, the torment of the better part of a month to be poured out in a torrent of sobs and tears.

His shoulders shake uncontrollably as cries, holding himself.  He has not felt like this since he was a child, curled up in a ball to protect his mother’s prized teapot from breakage.  But this time, he can't stop what he holds, his heart, from breaking.  She had every right to be angry, to be furious with how stupid he sounded that night, with his damn stupid fears.  Here he had been so concerned about what his eventual death would do to her, that he never even contemplated what would happen if their positions were switched.

And yet, instead of being upset, her last words to him were of love, compassion, and hope.  The only hatred she reserved was for herself.  That she had borne these undeserving  thoughts of self-loathing under a mantle of gentle smiles, humour, and empathy had never crossed his mind until this moment. She had deserved better than the man that had attempted to push her away because of his petty fears of his mortality.

He sobs dejectedly, letting every emotion drain out of him.  It’s a lance to a boil, draining the infection so the healing can attempt to begin.  It oddly gives him energy, now that he releases everything that has been damming up inside him. And after what feels like a good hour, he sits there, still weak, but oddly refreshed.  Like a sick man whose fever is broken and who is attempting to get out of bed.  His mind is clearer.  His Zea would not want him like this, he knows.  It would break her heart to know that he’s been wallowing in self hatred for all this time.

He picks up the letter and reads it one last time.  He’s already beginning to memorize some of the lines as his finger traces the geometric script.  

One word sticks out to him.  Regret.   

‘The only regret  is that I had not met you sooner’

Followed by: 

‘Perhaps if I had gone to the memorial gardens to enjoy the ambience more often…’

He thinks back to the gardens, on how they were the source of his greatest sorrow, his parents gravesite, and his greatest joy, his first kiss with her.  The veil is naturally very thin there, allowing spirits to pass to and from the fade as they please, and yet is peaceful enough that demons rarely show up.  His heartbeat races at the realization as he pulls out the dagger from the locked drawer where he placed it, safe, yet unable to mock him for his failure.  

Perhaps…

No, not perhaps.  He knows where to go now, what to do.  First thing tomorrow, when everyone else is asleep, he’ll go.  Alone.  He only has one shot at this, and there is also the possibility that the prison will require an exchange.  He cannot afford to have any other distractions.  He cannot afford to fail.

He folds the letter and places and the daggert in the drawer as his mind whirs at top speed.  After weeks of setbacks, dead ends, and more bad news from the outside world, a ray of light and hope shines.  He, and only he is the one who can shine it into the darkness. Whatever it takes.

[shinayashipper]

Puzzleship role-reversal AU following Egyptian boy Atem who transfered schools to Japan because of his father's job. As a son of a busy, high political figure, Atem constantly changes schools and have very little friends aside from Mahad and Mana who are the children of his father's close colleagues. (The other kids also got scared of him because his father is a powerful figure / only attempting to befriend him to gain benefits).

Atem grew up with strict lessons and pressure. Always have to be the best in everything. He always tried to maintain an aloof, cool-headed, always reliable leader persona, but in truth he's very shy and anxious. His only comfort was playing games, but it's very lonely to play alone (and he's not so fond of online games) (Mahad and Mana play with him but Mahad is older and doesn't have time to play childish games with him and Mana has other interests)

Atem had changed schools a lot, but it's the first time he moved overseas. He didn't know anyone in Japan and only spoke the language a limited amount (even tho his lessons back in Egypt always drilled the language into his brain but with no one to talk to it's pretty hard).

He instantly became The Talk at Domino High as "The cute/cool foreign transfer student from Egypt" and he didn't really like the attention. He became closed-off and only interact with his classmates a minimal amount, even tho he had always wanted to make more friends. (Now people thought he got a Mean Look, because of the frown 😂). Anzu was the first person who greeted him in good-faith because she purely wanted to get to know him and make him feel accepted in class (but he always brushed her off too). Jou and Honda are still part of The Delinquents(TM) and Jou just hated Atem's guts because he thought Atem is "snobby little Rich Kid". Kaiba is still Kaiba and he just Doesn't Care much.

One day, Atem got some free time and decided to visit a nearby game store: Kame Game. It's kind-of old and there's more board games and puzzle games instead of the ever-popular digital ones. But this is how Atem loves his games. (And there's always a weekly little tournament where kids can play Card Games against each other. Very Fun!).

When he came in, the store was empty and dark, but the store still has the "Open" sign at the door so Atem just kept going. There sits an open wooden box with silver carvings on one of the small table where kids play. Atem was intrigued to get closer and he saw some... wooden blocks. Maybe a Puzzle? Atem loves solving puzzles. Because this is just left alone on the play table, it means he can try it right? So he tried Solving it...

And as if the Puzzle itself was calling and urging him to Solve it... he's assembling it very smoothly. He can finally see that it's forming some kind of pendant, just a few more blocks but Grandpa Sugoroku suddenly appears and surprised him 😂 Gramps saw him with the Puzzle/Pendant and you know I really like the idea of him Knowing More than he lets on, he told Atem that this Puzzle was an artifact from The Gods' Time and whoever solved it will get a Wish come true. He urged Atem to take it home and solve it in peace. It might help you in some way, he told him.

So Atem brought The Puzzle home, thinking how that grampa was kind of Weird, but he's also intrigued with the Puzzle- so he's going to solve it. And a wish coming true doesn't sound bad at all...

Atem had solved it Perfectly, and it was a pendant. But nothing happens. Ha! What wish... Atem thought it's probably just Sugoroku's attempt to make him come back to the store and buy something. Atem was kind of Sad tho. But nevermind that, he got a new pendant now, so he wear it immediately and went to sleep. (Having strange Dreams about Storms and a boy with white robes and wearing The Pendant Facing Them... but he's not going to dwell with it- he must be Tired)

[mulberryasher]

[Fanservant] Simo Häyhä

Simo Häyhä

Japanese Name: シモ・ヘイヘ AKA: Simuna (シムナ), White Death (白い死神), Magic Shooter (銃殺王), Hero of Finland (フィンランドの英雄)

Class: Archer

Rarity: SSR: ★★★★★

Stats:

ATK: 11,916 HP: 12,454

Lv.100 Grail ATK: 12,983 Lv.100 Grail HP: 15,199

Lv.120 Grail ATK: 16,079 Lv.120 Grail HP: 17,944

Class skills:

Magic Resistance: A

Territory Creation: Ex

White Concealment: A+

Sisu Independent Reaper: EX

Parameter:

Strength: A+

Endurance: EX

Agility: EX

Mana: E

Luck: A

NP: EX

PROFILE

Default:

A Finnish military sniper from a forest on the border between Finland and Russia. He was considered a hero rather than a war hero from Finland. In the Winter War of 1939-1940 against the Soviet Union, a lone farmer quietly took up his rifle to defend Finland. During the Winter War, he sniped many Soviet Red Army soldiers without a scope, earning him the nickname "White Death." His 542 confirmed kills during the Battle of Kolla are believed to be the highest recorded number of any sniper in history. However, in his journal, he confirmed that his kill count may have been much higher than 500. For this reason, in this game, Simo's kill count is more than 500. Therefore, he is regarded as the deadliest sniper in history.

Bond 1:

Height/Weight: 160cm, 50kg

Origin: Historical fact

Region: Finland

Alignment: Chaotic-Balanced

Gender: Male

A forest farmer who wants to live a peaceful life in his cabin. He was feared as death itself due to his high kill count and perfect accuracy earned during the Winter War. He leaves no trace of his enemies.

".... I'm a citizen who wants to live a peaceful life. Never thought to earn a wicked nickname, but I don't mind or care."

• Mythological White Death

Simo Häyhä earned the nickname "White Death" from the Soviet soldiers. White Death first appeared in Finnish literature and became a legendary hero figure in Finnish Mythology during the Winter War and the late 1980s. During the Winter War, he was featured in Finnish newspapers as the "invisible Finnish soldier," contributing to his status as a mythical hero. His compatriots highly respected him, and tales of his actions have been passed down through generations as common Folktales.

The Soviet soldiers feared Simo's wicked nickname during the Winter War. When it encountered that fate, it was only set in death, creating multiple rumors that it was a ghost or an evil spirit of the forest. His reputation was so feared that he became known as the "White Death" during the Winter War and even claimed to be the avatar of Chernobog due to the massacre on the field.

Bond 2:

Personality

He was known to be a modest man with few words to say. Unexpectedly, underneath his stoic exterior, he is a compassionate and sociable person who rarely speaks, which can surprise people due to his stoic demeanor. He is often cold and struggles to express his emotions when talking to others. Yet, he can be both expressive and shy, and this clearly shows when he becomes flustered around beautiful women. He loves being praised and being self-centered, even though he seems unapproachable and nonchalant.

During the war, he is earnest and cold, literally not knowing what quitting is, and plans ten steps to prepare for the worst possible outcome. He doesn't have any empathy towards his enemies when he shoots - "Recoil," and doesn't care if the enemy is perilous or not - "I shot when I saw the enemy. I didn't care if they were leaders."

He is patient and brilliant to observe, both in his behavior and in his surroundings.

After the war, he remained a humble man who yearned to return to his farm. He still feels guilty for not saving his comrades; he saw his comrades' deaths and torture as a sniper at a distance. He lives his best life and enjoys being alone in the forest, but he hates being alone at night because of the guilt of his fallen comrades.

Bond 3:

Simo was born in southern Finland, near the Russian border, into a Lutheran farming family with eight children. He began military service in 1925 after working as a farmer and hunter. At the age of 17, he joined the Finnish Civil Guard, where he excelled in skiing and shooting competitions, earning numerous trophies. He completed a 15-month military service with the Bicycle Battalion 2 in Raivola and attended the Non-Commissioned Officer School. Although he did not receive formal sniper training until 1938, he showcased exceptional skill despite lacking prior training.

During the 1939 Winter War between Finland and the Soviet Union, the Soviets deployed approximately 450,000 soldiers, while Finland had around 300,000, primarily consisting of farmers and hunters. When the Soviets launched an unprovoked attack, a soldier in the field training with the Civil Guards learned of the invasion the next day and was assigned to the front line under Commander Aarne Juutilainen. Serving as a sniper during the Battle of Kollaa River, he faced 5,000 Soviet troops. His first mission was to cut off enemy communications, which he accomplished without injury. Later, tasked with eliminating a Soviet sniper targeting their leaders, he completed the mission and reported back to his commander 18 hours later.

He was freed from constraints and, in a single day, built ice berms in different locations to snipe multiple Soviet soldiers, aiming to protect his family farm and friends under attack. He skillfully predicted Soviet movements, becoming increasingly deadly and earning the nickname "The White Death." Despite a bounty on his head and multiple counter-sniper teams sent after him, he eliminated them all. He was celebrated as a hero in Finland, receiving an honorary rifle and a pair of wool mittens knitted from the general's wife.

His journey took a turn when a Soviet sniper fired an exploding bullet, knocking him unconscious. After a week in the hospital, he awoke on March 13, 1940, the day the Soviets signed a peace treaty with Finland, marking the end of the Winter War. Finland lost some land, including his family farm, to the Soviet Union. As a farmer and dog breeder, he lived a peaceful life later in life.

Simo Häyhä's Alter Ego Components:

Simo Häyhä is an Alter Ego-class High-Servant with Divine Spirits within him. Who works as one of the seven messengers of the Universe God, after Lostbelts and Ordeal Call. One of these Divine Spirits is Itztlacoliuhqui, a blindfolded justice god of death, absolute zero frost, winter, and the frost-killer plant, who is the bringer of justice and death for the Aztec world; the second is Enmesharra, a primordial god of the underworld and order, who is an inactive old-generation god known as a ghost, the Old Ghost of the netherworld and an invisible god. The third is Ilmarinen, a sky god who forged the "Sampo," which brought riches and good fortune, becoming the world pillar and the world tree for Väinölä and Pohjola. The final is a goddess of forests and hunting named Mielikki; she forces Simo Häyhä to combine her Divine Spirits because she is affectionate towards him, similar to someone she knows. Originally, the Divine Spirit was supposed to be Nanook, the god of bears, spiritual protector, hunting weaponry, and destruction.

Working with fellow Alter Egos Munakata Saikaku and Sensō Masamune, also known as Gorō Nyūdō Masamune, they aim to observe the Chaldean and Apostles of the Alien World after the lostbelts. Additionally, they oversee and monitor the seven unknown master candidates, comprising individuals affiliated with the Chaldea Security Organization, who barely qualified as Masters and survived Lev Lainur Flauros's bombing of Chaldea.

Bond 4:

Territory Creation: EX

Simo Häyhä grew up in a harsh, hilly, wooded, snow-covered environment and knows the terrain like the back of his hand. He later becomes familiar with every other terrain during the Winter War. Having lived there his entire life, he sees this landscape as his normal. For him, walking uphill through the snow is just part of everyday life. Hunting played a significant role in how his family provided food, and Simo started hunting at a very young age in this challenging environment.

White Concealment: A+

This ability is similar to Presence Concealment, becoming one with the world itself. The skill should be ranked EX, but since his Saint Graph is Simo Häyhä itself, rather than White Death, that lowers the rank. Additionally, gaining ammunition earns an A+ rank.

This soldier is equivalent to death itself, and even with his well-known move of using an iron-sight Mosin–Nagant M28-30 rifle without a scope, he would hold snow in his mouth to prevent his breath from creating fog and forming an ice berm. He chose this shooting stance because it was one he was familiar with from his hunting days.

Sisu Independent Reaper: EX

This skill is similar to Independent Manifestation merging with Grim Reaper. This soldier became death itself, able to manifest in any location where the concept of "death" exists. Simo Häyhä killed over 500 and became the deadliest sniper in history, gaining vast knowledge of heroes in Throne of Heroes.

Simo Häyhä intentionally and stoically allows himself to be immersed in adversity until he becomes the adversity itself.

Connoisseur of Ammunition: B+

As a member of the Finnish Civil Guard, he issued one of the most iconic military service rifles of all time, the Mosin–Nagant, a bolt-action rifle. He also issued a small amount of ammunition for training. Still, due to budgetary restrictions, they decided to be more efficient by issuing all the materials needed to load their ammunition to all Civil Guard members. Consequently, he was also manufacturing his ammunition.

Bond 5:

Sisu-Hiirenkorva: B+

A mindset that allows individuals to reach beyond their present limitations and take action against all odds to become the embodiment of adversity themselves. Simo Häyhä can face the odds with his mindset, releasing his full strength through his abilities. Those who are with him will bring about new change, which is about to unfold despite all the odds they will face; they will persevere through to the end on the battlefield.

Charisma of Bringerance: A

Having demonstrated his abilities, he later became the most important person during the Winter War, giving hope to the people that there was a chance of victory against all odds. The hope and trust in his comrades, who felt confident in his leadership, as he had once led a squad during the Winter War.

White Dearth: EX

Simo Häyhä found himself on the battlefield, defending his home, outnumbered by one hundred soldiers surrounded by death on all sides; rather than succumb to it, he became death itself.

"I only did my duty, and I was told to do as well as I could."

The death reflected the nothingness of his bullets. He becomes one with death itself. Having the authority to rearrange and manipulate the flow of death and discern between death and life force.

"I just shot everything I saw an enemy, and I didn't feel anything towards the enemy. I just fired and loaded and continued as long as there were enemies."

Alter Ego: Change

Primordial Old-New Order Rules: EX

This skill, Simo Häyhä, was fused with a kind of Divine Spirit named Emmesharra, a primordial god of the underworld and order, who is an inactive old-generation god known as a ghost, the Old Man of the netherworld, and an invisible god from Ancient Mesopotamian Mythology.

The ability to create a designated area or boundary and set rules that compel anyone or anything within it—whether an object, a living being, an extraterrestrial entity, or something connected to our world—to adhere to those rules.

God-Reaper: EX

As an Alter Ego-class Servant, Simo Häyhä was fused with that kind of Divine Spirit named Itztlacoliuhqui, a blindfolded justice god of death, absolute zero-frost, winter and frost-killer plant who once was very cheerful happy god represent dawn and Venus, after a shoots an arrow at the sun, the dart misses it mark and the sun penetrating the god's head as a punishment of the god's arrogance became Itztlacoliuhqui, the icy and bitter personality as a bringer of justice.

Simo Häyhä's efficiency increased when fighting opponents who were far greater than him. He doesn't expand Magical Energy when using the skill.

Extra:

『Väki Häyhä Metsänpeitto: Bringerer of Death 』

Rank: EX

NP Type: Anti-World, Anti-Army Noble Phantasm, Anti-Unit Noble Phantasms

Range: 0–999

Maximum Targets: 999

Zero Kelvin Forest Field

A Noble Phantasm that creates a purgatory of a snowstorm forest, with endless recoil. A Reality Marble, by the rumor of himself, conflicts with the Reality Marble. He is represented as the Grim Reaper and Death in Finnish Mythology and folklore, which will be passed down through generations and has fused with his historical figure. Creating a new world for Finnish Mythology represents a winter purgatory, where a commences firing through the forest's trees, blinding the snowstorm while burning with frostbite, as a silent figure disappears through the snowstorm with a silent headshot at the end.

The word Metsänpeitto means "forest's cover". In Finnish folklore, there is a belief that the forest can hide or imprison people or domestic animals, such as cows or horses, so that they cannot escape and remain invisible to those who search for them. People "covered by forest" were described as being unable to recognize the terrain around them, even if they were on familiar ground. In other cases, they might have walked endlessly through unfamiliar terrain, or were rendered completely paralyzed, unable to move or speak. An unnatural silence, devoid of the sounds of nature, had become normal, and gnomes lived underground in the forest. Metsänpeitto also bears a strong resemblance to kamikakushi in Japanese folklore.

"Kollaa kestää!"

"I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, my comrades."

"Surrounding each snowflake, that only sets in death, Väki Häyhä Metsänpeitto."

"These fields were a place where I grew up, as you enter these fields, you are already in the afterlife, Väki Häyhä Metsänpeitto."

April Fool:

Dog breeder-Type Servant

After the Winter War, he became a quiet, peaceful man who loved nature and enjoyed hunting with his hunting dog, Kille. During the new year, a man takes care of puppies with his dog while times see him playing in a shooting gallery, which seems he was banned later on for winning so many prizes.

Dialogue Summon

“.... Archer, Simo Häyhä. At your service."

Summoned (After Simo Häyhä's Alter Ego)

"Archer, Simo Häyhä......??? What was that reaction? Is it because of my wicked nickname? No? .... I do have an idea, but I am not him.... I do as you order me to do; that is my duty as a servant."

My Room:

Bond Lvl 1:

Commander wants to know about me? ...... I earned the titles of Magic Shooter and Master Shooter during my military service and numerous shooting competitions.

Bond Lvl 2:

Commanders, you are a kind person who faces difficulties, which is why I trust you. I hope to learn from you about what it means to be a mage from your view.

Bond Lvl 3:

My Spirit Origin is closer to Simo Häyhä than White Death and the rumor. I'm still quite surprised that I earned that wicked nickname, even though I do what I was told and protect the people. I'm glad I try to do my best for my country. I'm still regretting; I'm sorry if I had another strategy that could have saved many lives, not seeing many of my comrades fallen from my iron sight.

Bond Lvl 4:

Commander, sir, you should train for every possible situation, being ten steps ahead of your enemies. Learn every detail of various strategies and prepare yourself for entering the field.

Bond Lvl 5:

In Chaldea, it is very peaceful and calm, and I have a chance to go hunting with Kille.... Commander wants to go hunting with me? .....Yes, Kille loves treats from Commander.

Louhi

...You know my name? …. You're saying you know me when I was an Alter Ego and fought against Commander…. I don't recall…. What makes me special for me to be bestowed the "Sampo"? You're asking the wrong person…. Take care…..Why are you chasing me!? I have no affiliation with Ilmarinen or Mielikki.

Miyamoto Musashi

………..Sorry, Lady Miyamoto….Why am I turning my face around? Yes, I am listening…

EMYIA (Alter)

... You want to learn my marksman technique? …. You're asking a lot of questions, calling yourself rotten to the core… Why am I different from you? I don't know.

EMIYA (Assassin)

You dislike me, but this is our first introduction..... Why was I lucky not to be a Guardian…. You lost me there…

Ryōgi Shiki

…. Sorry, I wasn't being rude; I just forgot my manners...... Why do I have similar abilities to Mystic Eyes of Death Perception without Mystic Eyes of Death Perception … Am I even a human…... You can't see "concept of death" or "line of death" on me?

Mata Hari

…..Your dancing abilities are majestic….. Eh? My ability to be a sniper is also majestic for being a spy assassin. Thank you, Lady Mata….

Artoria Caster or Artoria Caster (Berserker)

So, you are the young lady, the child of prophecy from your homeland... eh? You want to know my opinion on being a beacon of hope for my homeland. I wasn't quite sure, or I thought I wasn't important, just a citizen. I was doing my duty for my homeland.

Grigori Rasputin

.... So you're Grigori Rasputin, and you wanted to learn my marksmanship ability because of my reputation from your homeland. No.... We will never get along? I suppose this is the only time I'll agree with you.

Anastasia

.... One of the princesses from Russia.... Afraid of me? Good, I still have the frostbite lingering with me....Sorry, even though you have nothing to do with them. I can't forget those during those moments.

Koyanskaya of Light or Koyanskaya of Dark

…. How was I known as death? …. I guess the people feared…. I don't need a new weapon; the only weapon that I will use is my rifle, which I cherish.

Brynhildr and Sigurd

You two are from Norse Mythology… A perfect couple….. Yes, that is my opinion… You two heard of me…. Eh?! Perfect for whom? Yes, I am single…. Wait, wait, wait, what are we talking about this topic all of a sudden?!

Dobrynya Nikitich or Dobrynya Nikitich (Lancer)

…. Dragon-slayer self claimed to be Dobrynya Nikitich…. But aren't you Nasta-...What was that about? It's because of the life force-... Okay, okay, I will be quiet…. Eh? You want to find someone you know? Your husb- I mean your wife? No…It is not misconduct..Why would you ask me that question?

Scáthach-Skaði or Scáthach-Skaði (Ruler)

…. You don't trust me with Commander…. Oh, that…. But he is not me…How can I be that inhuman? That harsh….

Hijikata Toshizō

…... A secret police? Yes, but I once served as a soldier and a member of the Civil Guard in my homeland. Yes, those duties are an honor to protect the people.

Heracles

Oh, a hero from Greek tales… I heard of you once… It is truly an honor to meet you, Sir Heracles… Eh? Just Heracles…. Oh no, I can't do that-... Yes sir.

Medusa (Saber)

… Yes, do you want me to join your team with Commander? Sure, Lady Medusa….Leukós Thanatos? I was so deadly that I earned that title….

Sétanta

Young sir, it was fun going hunting with you and your partner. It seems Kille and your partner get along well.. You want to know about dogs? I'm sure right, Kille.

Super Orion

Oh, there was what was that entrance… Yes, I am Archer, but also can be summoned be-... Woah woah there… You want me as your successor? … Oh, so you want to be freely… won't you be in trouble with Lady Artemis?

Uesugi Kenshin

…. The Death god of Kollaa??? Southern God of Death… You got the wrong person… I'm just a citizen, nothing important. What do I feel being considered as Death and Grim Reaper… I still Simo Häyhä reflection on myself.

Metatron Jeanne

An angel possessed a young lady? Am I the Angel of Death host?? No…You can't see death on me… I am a servant so-....That's a bit too much for you to consider me a threat.

Dante Alighieri

….You, the author of the book, what is the name again…. Sorry, but I do recall Commander telling you to write an important book..... Is something wrong with me? Materialization my version of purgatory, is interesting?…. A good reference for Commander… Your welcome….

"The Old Man of the Mountain"

... How can I face you, that I can die but I can't feel death? Am I the death? I get that a lot…

Calamity Jane

…… Sorry, I was rude… Yes, I am listening to you..... Yes, I am flustered... stop teasing me… Didn't you say you wanted to learn my marksmanship? Then let's focus on recoil.

Minamoto no Tametomo

Whoa, there? You want a challenge? How can I be inhuman?? …Want me to use a bow…no…with my personal weapon…Sure, you already set in towards death…

Sugitani Zenjūbō

…. Challenge…. How can I ensure accuracy for a headshot? I was lucky, mostly because I learned from a very young age that I could die anytime if I sat around.

Saika Magoichi

… How can I fire and load and continue until there are no enemies left inhuman time with every headshot without a scope… You're also a good marksman..... With you adopting different weapons, you can aim far greater.

Tezcatlipoca

… The omnipotent god is here to introduce himself. It's an honor..eh? You want me to be what? Yes, people do call me death itself…. Became a newbie for the Aztec world?

Kiichi Hōgen

… Good evening…. Sorry that I startled you. You're not used to me knowing your concealment… I can teach you a better way without relying on your Presence Concealment. Why am I turning my face around? It's because Commander is coming here.

Ereshkigal

…. Goddess of the netherworld, eh? Well, this is awkward. Maybe we should help Commander.

Utsumi Erice or Utsumi Erice (Avenger)

… You want to know how you can become me…. You heard from me where you were in the future… Not only am I a historical figure but also a mythical hero figure, eh….You shouldn't praise me much; you also earned the nickname of the Grim Reaper.

Archetype: Earth

Are you curious about something? What is it? Is it about me? Am I close to being an archetype now? There is no way, I am not a vampire; I am just a normal citizen… Plus, my Spirit Origin is not close to White Death.

Something you Like

.... What I like?

......Hunting.... Farming..... Skiing..... Spending time with Kille....Bred hunting dogs.... In my free time, I enjoyed playing Pesäpallo. Spending time with people and enjoying peaceful moments alone in the forest.

Something you Hate

..... What I dislike?

Telescopic sight..... Being called a hero and bragging about my achievements..... Being alone at night in my room.... The people who invaded my homeland, but I never hated anyone I fought; I simply saw them as enemies and did what I had to.

About the Holy Grail

The Holy Grail, huh.... There's nothing I need; I enjoy what I can here.

During an Event

.... Festival...Pretty crowded... Enjoying the people who celebrate the ones who are friends and close to them.

Birthday

Happy birthday.... It is an honor to be here on your birthday, Commander.... Hehe.... Kille is glad to celebrate Commander's birthday.

[dotterelly]

I commissioned @harleysart for the cover of my second book after they did such a good job on the first, and boy did they deliver!

You can read the book HERE if you're interested. Individual characters below the cut.

First up is Adalia Milbank, aka Ada. She's the protag of my first book, and is sort of protag in the second, but now shares the limelight with her friends more. She's pretty smart, but still traumatized and kinda filled with rage after the events of the first book. Her role in the team is sysop, programming, and system management. She's also the only true mage on Earth, after she was granted a boon by a Goddess from another world that allows her to siphon mana from there. With her is Cinnabun - one of the GMs and a being that lives in the rift between worlds. They and their colleagues are the ones who first created the Fantasy Isekai Simulator VR game in order to allow other worlds to use people from Earth as champions in a more sustainable way. They helped rescue Ada in the first book, and now work closely with Ada and her friends to manage the back end of the game.

Next is Ophelia Campbell, aka Lia, and her game avatar Liana_Sunblood aka Sunny. Ophelia is the shortest in the group, and petite with it. But she has a pretty steady personality under pressure, and is basically their leader. She's good at people management and keeping everyone moving, but sometimes feels kind of useless since her talents are less tangible than those of the others. Still, they would be lost without her watching over them. Her avatar Sunny is a knight archetype, of average height and solidly built. Her weapons of choice are a sword and her flexible buckler shield, but she's trained at least a little with most types of weapons and with unarmed combat, and has lead armies before in the game.

Then we have Bronwyn Jones, who everyone calls Fishy after her gamer tag Hi_Im_Fish. She is taller than Lia, but shorter than Ada, and chubby with curves. She has a degree in Chemistry from a well respected university, and really enjoys her area of expertise. She applies said expertise to her avatar, which is an alchemist build. Where most consider the alchemist archetype to be a craft job not suited to fighting, Fishy has managed to make it into a solid support/damage class. No one else has yet been able to truly match her level of skill as an alchemist, and those in the know consider her a mad genius. She tends to wear her heart on her sleeve, is witty and mischievous and fiercely protective of her friends, and would throw hands with anyone, up to and including god. She is in a relationship with Moon, who she adores deeply.

Finally, we have Moon and their avatar Sleepy_Moon. Due to certain circumstances, they basically abandoned their surname with their deadname, and are now just known as Moon to everyone. Moon towers over the others at over 6 ft tall, and their large with it. They are androgynous in the way that most features people would use to gender them are obscured by their weight and their preference for comfortable worn baggy clothing. They are socially anxious and pretty shy around people they don't know due to finding it hard to read other people, but open up around their trusted friends. They have a deep love and interest in magic, researching it in all literary and fictional contexts and then studying the realities of it after discovering the existence of magical worlds in other dimensions during the events of book one. As a result, their knowledge and mana control are near perfect, though they can't use magic on Earth unless Ada lends them some mana. When dealing with magic, they are at their happiest and most confident. They chose to match their avatar to their real appearance as much as possible because it took so long for them to feel comfortable in their own skin and now they are not comfortable looking like anything else. They have been with Fishy since they were both in university together, and their relationship is going strong.

And that's everyone! If you actually read all that, please do drop me an ask, message, or reply and let me know who is your favourite. I'm open to answer any questions you like about any of them.

[inventors-fair]

Second Main: Free-Spell Runners-Up!

Our runners up are @curiooftheheart, @helloijustreadyourpost, and @lanabutnotdelray!

@curiooftheheart — Relentless Fanaticism

I feel that this card reads like a top-down spell but it's actually bottom-up in a unique way. Sacrificing a red creature is a great takeaway, and the fact that it's based off of power instead of something like mana value means that your can indeed use tokens to pay for it and let your nontoken creatures take the second combat just fine. I think there's a little precedent for free extra combat with Fury of the Horde, but that's an entirely different design, and the cost of that is pretty steep; this card's so much more flexible, and I actually love that. I also understand why you chose nontoken, because otherwise... Well, I run a Krenko deck, I get it. This card's not exactly shy to talking us nasty goblins out of that.

Having a combat damage trigger that's super specific to contact is a good limiter. Honestly, because this spell has the potential late in the game to be a crazy finisher, all the limiters don't take away from how powerful it is just by itself. A wide board would make this go nuts, and I'm realizing that building around it actually takes an amount of finesse that's making me reconsider what it might look like in my current decks that could use it. The other thing that I just thought of: the Mice deck that's been annoying players in Standard right now? You just gave them another Heartfire Hero piece to make Slickshot Show-Off that much more of a pain. Alright, forget it, card cancelled, we broke Standard, everyone! ... Nah, but it's still hella good. I almost forgot: the first thing I mentioned? I like the notion of fervor striking only your strongest followers and not the rabble, those with a cause. You could def frame the art to emphasize that characterization and make the nontoken clause more emphatic, which is cool.

@helloijustreadyourpost — Maddening Riddle

Submitting a common free spell to this contest is a bit of madness itself, innit. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this is a vexing piece that makes me want to badly to make it an uncommon, and yet... Is it okay? Probably. I think. I mean, it's not exactly a game-breaking card, and there's nothing that's going to go infinite with it too easily. Alternative costs mean... Well, no, I shouldn't try to break this, although I'm sure someone will. I'm thinking of the situations where you're going to have a Sphinx and be able to play this, and there's not much I can think of where anyone would willingly build an all-Sphinx deck for just this card. They'll certainly try, but it's not going to do anyone any good.

And that's just because it's a good card! It's still a strictly better Curate, and maybe for that we can talk about it being an uncommon, but that's about it. I'm quite curious if this was intended to be mechanics-centric or flavor-centric first, where that design space came from, because I can see an argument for both? The general framing still feels like an "I know better than you" kind of notion, and I appreciate that from a Sphinx-based perspective for sure. Maybe one could make this happen in limited, and maybe it's for the casual Sphinx crown, and either way I think it's kinda neat. I'm still a wee bit frustrated, though, because it's barely not strong enough for uncommon but the complexity is there! Where precisely should one turn? Eh, throw it in a Legends set, it'll be fine.

@lanabutnotdelray — Pactbound Bolthound

You can't NOT say this name super fast and have it be just as fun. Small notes first: I know that you based this on the Pact cycle, and I feel that you could've adjusted the wording just slightly. Cards like Judith and Taigam show you can add things to spells, right? Maybe it could've said: "You may cast this spell without paying its mana cost. If you do, it gains "At the beginning of—" etc., etc. That said, I understand why you might not have wanted to have the nested if-clauses, so I feel that choice. It still needs "you lose" instead of just "lose" there, but c'est la vie. What I will say is that I didn't know that Ball Lightning had the end step clause worded that way; I always thought it was "YOUR end step," and I was totally wrong in my head! I suppose it makes more sense, so good catch on that part.

The general notion is that this card rocks. It's a big ball of energy—but, y'know, dog-shaped energy—that's here to play and (not) to stay. I can see where it's intended more for constructed but can have a limited impact all the same, and the trap of people playing it on turn two willy-nilly is pretty great for a learning curve. What I really want to see is a game where there's a close call all around, and then someone drops two or three of these and just windmill slams another hasty creature and swings for an overwhelming win. Obviously the clause makes it so that interruptions are risky, but at that point, you either win or you don't in a much more immediate fashion. I like the way you referenced old tech without explicitly using it in order to both have a well-grounded card and fit the prompt. And I really need to emphasize the overall fun factor here! This card has a little piece of joy that can only be found in fast dogs. Fast dogs probably made of lightning. That run people over.

I tried to get some commentary done ahead of time, but most folks do submit later in the week, which is understandable. I've got a LONG weekend ahead of me so general commentary will be done when I get there. I'll keep folks updated! Thank you all for your thoughtful submissions.

@abelzumi

[ambrosius-art]

The oc I started my yt channel on!! Everest Crystallia, twisted from elsa, most of these I drew months ago except the one with the bow in his hair, I’m still tweaking his design.

info:

Name: Everest Crystallia 

ethnicity: French/African/Norwegian

Birthday: December 21st

age:17

Height: 5'6 (5'9 in heels)

Gender: Male

Appearance: Considerably tall with heels on, he has a dark shade of brown skin, similar to those of the people of the Frost fire fjords. Some of his most alluring features include his hair and eyes. his hair is a naturally glittery frost blonde, white hair with a slight reflective sheen to it, to which he usually wears down in a side part with a French braid on the side and light curls on the end. His eyes are an icy blue crystalline hue with iridescent flecks almost mimicking the aurora borealis northern lights and dark blue pupils. he is usually seen wearing a darker neutral brown or light cold blue eyeshadow with glitter and slightly pink tinted lip-gloss. He also has a lithe, statuesque dainty, yet lean figure with slightly pointed ears.

Family: Augustus Crystallia (younger brother by 3 years) Anruin Crystallia (father) Eisvea Crystallia (mother)  Elrynora Winterheart (great grandmother)

Likes: Singing, violin, dancing, fencing, strutcure.

Dislikes: loud voices when not singing, messy rooms, warm environments.

fears: Uncertainty, Disappointment

Magic: Just like most eldest children of his long Crystallia heritage Everest inherited the ancient ice magic of his ancestors, said to be tied to the snow queen herself. though, coming from a long line of ice fae's since he is half human inheriting ancient ice magic this resulted in him having the rare condition that is Overmagic. Overmagic is a condition to which a person is born with more mana than their body can handle. Having this condition has caused Everest multiple side effects, such as his eye color, the sheen on his hair, and his below normal body temperature and most of his spells having high blot production. as a child due to his condition, he was on strict notice to always have gloves on or some sort of hand covering to keep his magic in controllable parameters, otherwise he ends up freezing most everything he touches, due to these restrictions he refrains from using his magic altogether and is always in a constant state of holding himself back.

Signature spell; "Eternal winter": allows Everest to change the season to winter within a specified radius of his choosing, though the drawbacks are high blot production and that the winter season gets more severe the more negative his emotions 

Homeland: Frostfire fjords

Year: second

Club: Fencing team

Best subject: kingdom management

Personality and background: Everest is an award-winning teen idol, running for 4-5 years and also the crown prince and heir to the throne of Frostfire Fjords. He is the polar opposite from his younger brother, always appearing calm, regal, mature, reserved and said to be very generous and unintentionally controlling over his citizens though in person viewed to be somewhat cold, withdrawn and shy. his personality takes on a new appearance when in the public eye, appearing very graceful, demure, and somewhat flamboyant at times. However, during his childhood shortly after he had turned 8 years old his parents tragically died out at sea during a diplomatic trip, causing Everest to become more reserved, insecure, and reclusive over the years, the stress of trying to partially run a kingdom made him become isolated, severely damaging his relationship with his younger brother. He constantly keeps up a front, always hiding his true intentions and thoughts about others to please everyone, but beneath his cold regal exterior lies an insecure, overthinking child, itching for the chance to be free without the restrictions of constant expectations.

Fun facts: Frostfire Fjords and Briar valley are longtime kingdom allies through in the conflict with Bladevale and Briarvelley Frostfire fjords remained completely neutral and isolated from the wars, only providing minor support. due to this allyship once Lilia found out about Everest's parents' tragic demise, he volunteered to babysit Everest and Augustus occasionally, explaining how Everest refers to Lilia as "Uncle Lilia". This also explains how he is well acquainted with Malleus, Silver, and Sebek.

Everest is the best-known Ice mage in the world though he purposely conceals his magic and rarely demonstrates it outwardly.

Everest was once the young vice head of the royal choir and opera of Frostfire fjord's. He was the highest Sparano, explaining his high and vast vocal range.

Everest during his first year at NRC used to be enrolled in the Pomefiore house, where he studied under his idol and mentor Vil Schoenheit, but the next year he transferred and became Housewarden of CryoVain after finding out how strict Vil really is.

Everest can sometimes enter a state where he allows his magic and fae traits to manifest and somewhat even take over in order to control his magic better. In this state his appearance changes slightly with icy blue glittery gradients appearing on his hands and feet as well as ice fractals appearing on his forehead, cheeks, shoulders, hands, and neck.

Everest's Crystallia bloodline is said to be direct descendants of the snow queen.

Everest has a terrible habit of thinking things and not saying them, this habit ranges from bottling up certain feelings to even forgetting to respond when people speak to him.

Idia has actually been to multiple of Everest's concerts and had even paid for backstage passes once.

later in the main story it is revealed that Everest keeps a journal/diary of sorts where he writes his knit picks and dislikes about those he sees, he writes a page almost every night.

Everest with his unique alignment of features is said to be one of the somewhat most beautiful students in Nrc and in mainstream media, though he is usually seen to be less when compared to Vil or Neige

People I ship him with and why:

Jamil: Everest would often relate to Jamil's feelings of having to hold yourself back because of outside circumstances yet wanting to test your limits and see your own power grow. Everest would also bond with Jamil for their shared love for dancing and choreography.

Malleus: Everest, since growing up with him wouldn't fear him and would possibly relate to his isolation and being overly powerful. They would also bond since Everest makes a point to invite malleus to all house warden meetings he attends.

Silver: having both practically grown up together they would already have a proper foundation for such relationships, Everest would also come to admire Silver's drive for becoming a knight. 

also make sure to sub to my yt channel @Ambrosius_art on youtube

also CryoVain is a dorm I created off of frozen, I get that Elsa is tecnically a protagonist but she was meant to be a villain and hans is boring af and less iconic.

[freeeggbailiffcash]

I thought their glasses looked really alike and decided to make a drabble of it🤣🤣🤣

"Lambat," Fakhri scowled, looking like a disappointed kindergarten teacher at the wet fussy kid who didn't listen when she told him to not play in the rain.

Because that's exactly how Kahar looked, hair matted with dirt, a faint bruise under his eye that was bound to turn into all shades of rainbow the next morning and his clothes wet and faintly reeking of...fish?

Unfortunately Fakhri did not give a rat's ass care at the state of his roommate.

God, it's really hard to believe it, isn't it?

Just a couple months ago, Fakhri was out and about, making amends and catching up with old friends. It's hard to believe that he got attached to Kudrat in just two years in a way that he never did back when he was living in Kuantan.

Meeting Kahar again was awkward, to say the least. For one, Kahar was more humble now and almost shy? A trait Fakhri found hard to bekieve from the guy who barged into his dorms at 3 am to make them do 'enjet steng'.

And the weirder part came when Fakhri was out househunting since his new semester didn't provide him with a college accomadation and Kahar somehow slipping that he had a spare room in his rental house.

So, including tonight, they've been housemates for approximately three months.

Three months together in a flimsy worn out soace learning each other's weirdest tackiest habits. Fun. Not

Kahar make an exhasperated look at Fakhri's continued silent stare of disapproval on Kahar's tardiness.

They've learnt to communicate purely based on pained looks of grimaces and frowns these days.

But Kahar's scowl that conveyed, 'Kau tak nampak ke aku macam baru lepas kena regging ni?' did nothing to deter Fakhri's 'Aku tak kisah alasan apa kau nak bagi, kau tetap lambat.'

After five minutes of staring at each other in silent contemot Fakhri sighed pointedly, "Aku pasang kabinet ni sorang-sorang—nak dekat sejam dah, sebab ade ahh orang tu janji nak tolong."

"Aku kene tahan lokap tadi!" Kahar cried out in dismayal.

Fakhri looked completely unperturbed, "and aku merana ada 57 selumbar sebab kayu kabinet kau ni cam hampeh. So sape yang lagi miserable sekarang?" Kahar sighed in exasperation before dropping onto the floor with a thud, sitting cross-legged across from Fakhri. He eyed the half-done cabinet with a scrutinizing frown, fingers brushing against the wooden edges as if assessing Fakhri’s handiwork.

Then, he looked up, lips pressing into a line before he muttered, “Mana kau nya luka-luka. Bak haa aku tengok.”

For all his faux annoyance, there was an undeniable softness in Kahar’s voice, the kind of fondness that made Fakhri narrow his eyes. Kahar was just a big fucking softie.

Which meant he deserved to be tormented.

So Fakhri, grinning devilishly, plastered both hands right onto Kahar’s face, palms smushing against his cheeks and completely blocking his view.

Kahar immediately recoiled, hands grasping at Fakhri’s wrists. “Oii kepala kau, macam mana aku nak nampak, bodoh.”

Fakhri snickered. “Lah, kau kan rabun, orang suruh pakai spek kau bega—”

And just like that, they were back at it again. Another one of their stupid, endless bickering sessions, no different than their debates over the proper way to eat bread (Fakhri still held a grudge over Kahar’s tendency to cut off the crusts) or their frequent clashes about cleanliness (Kahar had long since accepted that Fakhri was an absolute neat freak).

Kahar clicked his tongue, already losing patience. “Dah la, gii ambik first aid kit dalam bilik aku.”

Fakhri rolled his eyes but stood, making his way to Kahar’s room.

It was bigger than his. Of course, it was.

As he stepped inside, his gaze instinctively drifted around, taking in the familiar chaos—scattered books, an unmade bed, and, to his mild surprise, a section of the wall where Kahar had put up his old drawings. Fakhri paused for a beat, discreetly admiring the sketches before turning toward the drawer where he assumed the first aid kit would be.

Only, instead of gauze and antiseptic, his fingers wrapped around something far more interesting.

A picture frame.

The moment he got a good look, Fakhri nearly choked on air.

It was a younger Kahar. Glasses. Braces. The full nerd package.

Fakhri fought the violent urge to cackle.

Holy shit.

This was gold.

Kahar stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Fakhri with a look of absolute horror as if he had just witnessed the most unspeakable crime.

Fakhri, on the other hand, looked positively delighted, practically purring as he tilted the picture frame in his hands, inspecting it with relish. “Kahar~ Kau tak cakap kat aku pun kau dulu budak nerd.”

Kahar’s eyes narrowed. He took a slow, menacing step forward. “Bagi balik.”

Fakhri, the menace that he was, merely grinned wider. And then—swift as hell—he grabbed the frame properly with one hand and discreetly swiped something else from the drawer with the other.

And just like that, the chase was on.

“Fakhri, bagi balik sekarang!” Kahar lunged, but Fakhri ducked under his arm, laughing as he sprinted out of the room.

“Tak nak~” Fakhri sing-songed, evading Kahar’s grasp as he darted around the cramped apartment. “Kau tunggu aku print gambar ni and sebar macam sebar fitnah!”

“KAU TAKDE KERJA LAIN KE, SETAN?!” Kahar yelled, leaping over the couch in a last-ditch effort to grab him.

Fakhri cackled like a madman, narrowly dodging before making a sharp turn into the hallway. He was fast—but in his frantic escape, his foot caught onto something.

Something soft.

Something fabric-like.

Something that looked suspiciously like—

Oh.

Kahar’s dumb hoodie.

The one Fakhri had told him to pick up hours ago.

Time slowed.

Fakhri yelped as he lost balance, stumbling forward. Kahar, too caught up in the chase, didn’t have time to stop himself. With a comical lack of grace, he tripped straight into Fakhri’s back, and together, they went crashing down in a spectacular heap of tangled limbs.

A beat of silence. Then—

Wheezing.

First from Fakhri. Then Kahar.

Then their breathless laughter spilled over into full-blown hysterics, shaking their entire bodies as they lay sprawled on the floor.

Kahar felt lighter—so much lighter than he had all day. The lingering weight of his shitty evening, the exhaustion, the frustration—it all faded under the sheer absurdity of the moment.

But then—

There was something on his face.

Something sitting on the bridge of his nose, slightly lopsided.

His laughter tapered off as confusion set in. Slowly, he opened his eyes—

And was met with Fakhri’s stupid, shit-eating grin.

The same Fakhri who had, at some point, placed Kahar’s old, thick-rimmed black glasses onto his face.

Kahar blinked, realization dawning.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

"Hensem ahh abe Kapla kita jadi skema." Fakhri teased, having the best fucking time of his life completely missing that when Kahar tumbled into him, some of the dirt and mud had tranferred to Fakhri's face making him looked exactly as mangled as Kahar had been earlier.

But Fakhri didn't seem to mind at all.

Kahar rolled his eyes. They were both fucking dorks in the end.