#slash purges

[jupiterjunebug]

Trying to adapt wrestling to an au is insane just bc of the. Back and forth nature of the plotliness some of them have w longtime friends/enemies. Yes currently kenny omega is normaller than a lot of the other ppl in this fic but if u ask him to talk abt his life story hangman across the room suddenly develops a thousand yard stare. Its hard being a youtuber.

[baeshijima]

— of lattes and dozing generals

in which you're just a cafe employee, and he is the luofu's revered general — the one who can never seem to stray too far from you, no matter how much time passes.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 10.4k wc, fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, coffee shop!au(-but-not-really-but-yeah-but-also-not), set slightly before current timeline, (old) friends to lovers, (attempts at) humour, pining pining bc they are old..., mentions of death (reader killed a mara-struck for the first time), hints of blade x reader if you squint

A/N : after a month the fic is done... i am so unwell for this man good lord ಥ_ಥ

General Jing Yuan is a cafe addict. That much is common knowledge among the citizens of the Luofu. Spanning from those who have been around for as long as he — and even older — to children and visitors alike, there’s not one person who hasn’t heard of this rumour.

When asked by a few brave (or nosy, depending on how you look at it) souls, the corners of his lips merely quirk up in a display of fond affection as he vocalises with equal sentiment, “They have my favourite there. How can I possibly resist the temptation?”

…Yeah. Whatever that meant.

Unsurprisingly, word spreads fast. News of the Cloud Knight’s general making regular trips to a meagre cafe? Just what in the world did they have to cause the great, beloved General Jing Yuan to return time and time again?

In the end, no one could actually figure out what his favourite item on the menu was. Every time he went in, it would always result in him leaving with something new! The only consistent occurrence, however, was the same employee taking his order with an expression akin to that of exasperation.

Meanwhile, to the regulars who have grown used to his profound presence within the humble cafe, they know better. This so-called ‘favourite menu item’ rumour that’s been going around? Preposterous! Having bore witness to the general breeze through the entrance in a bee-line to wherever it is you may be currently stationed (typically behind the counter) on many occasions, they’re confident the last thing in Jing Yuan’s mind when visiting is the menu.

After all, for what reason would he have to visit other than to converse with and see his favourite employee?

As a Xianzhou Native, you’ve experienced many oddities and menial routines throughout your extensive life. From being a medic-slash-supporter during countless wars and purges to your current job in a humble cafe, your options are beginning to run thin. After all, life is about exploring the new and revisiting the old (in your philosophy, at least), and there’s plenty of time to do so after having lived as long as you have.

Granted, outside of your role in purging the Denizens of Abundance, it’s safe to say your current occupation in the cafe has been your longest one yet! Well, you suppose the citizens of the Luofu — and, by extension, the Xianzhou Alliance — were never really ones for drastic change. At least the outworlders who come to visit bring some semblance of entertainment in your mundane life.

Yes. Your simple, mundane life you have come to appreciate.

“I see you’re busy as ever,” comments a baritone voice — languid in intonation yet you’re no stranger to the power which belies it. Against your better judgement, your eyes lift from the marbled counter to meet the smiling face of the bane of your existence, and the general whom the masses respect and fawn over. “Mind taking another customer?”

Ah. Right. This guy.

Out of everything that has been thrown at you, you’re almost certain this man takes the cake for the strangest experience in your life. And the longest, you suppose.

Although, it seems the same can’t be said for your coworkers, as you practically hear their beams of excitement before they can vocalise it.

“Welcome back, General Jing Yuan!”

You sigh at the enthused greeting from one of your coworkers, the beginnings of a headache teetering along the edges of your conscience. 

Ignoring the commotion, you resume your work. What was it you were making again…? Oh, right. One milk tea and a—

“If you keep frowning like that, you’ll drive away customers.”

“Will it drive you away?” you retort, focusing on the last part of the order. After securing the small fruit tart from behind the display case, you pass the milk tea and pastry to a coworker so they can take it to the customer.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he drawls, impish smile magnified by the glimmer in his eyes when you turn to make contact, “but it’ll take much more than that to drive me away.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, unsure of what it is exactly he wants from you this time. Your eyes begin to narrow. “Are you saying a smile will drive you away?”

He feigns an exaggerated expression of hurt. “Drive me away? Oh, how your accusations wound me!” A chuckle bubbles from his throat when you glare at him for his theatrics, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I concede. Would you believe me if I said I’m worried your attention will be stolen away from me if you smile?”

“Not at all.”

“I’m merely looking out for you, [Name],” he says with a sigh, a shake of his head and a light tutting sound. “While I am immune to your smile, the customers are not. I don’t wish for you to be bored due to the lack of customers.”

Seriously, you can’t believe this guy sometimes. If he wants a challenge, then you accept.

And so you close your eyes and present your best century-perfected customer smile (which, to your credit, has been the number one selling point for many of the regulars and returning customers), deciding to play along with his whims. “Welcome back, General Jing Yuan. Would you like your usual today?”

(Granted, he likes to vary his order every now and then but the caramel latte seems to be his most consistent choice as of late. Pretty good taste, if you do say so yourself.)

“…”

…Why is it so quiet all of a sudden? Did everyone just unanimously decide to up and leave?? Is there a minute of silence you’re unaware of???

A meek cough disrupts your thoughts. Relieved at the new sound, you open your eyes only to be stumped by the general in front of you. His prior relaxed posture is now rigid, eyes focusing everywhere but on you. Wait, upon closer inspection, is he… shaking?

“...Please excuse me.”

Huh?

You’re not given much time to process his words. With one swift turn he’s already stalking towards the door.

“Hey! What happened to not being driven away?!” He doesn’t turn back at your shout. No, it seems to only make him speed-walk faster. Barely a blink and he’s gone, the only indication of his presence being the echoing chimes of the bell.

He bigged himself up saying he wouldn’t be driven away but then he goes and leaves you in the dust the moment you smile.

What a hypocrite.

(Unbeknown to you, the regulars who happened to witness the spectacle could only chuckle in fond exasperation at their general’s splutter and flushed skin, the only time they can truly get a read on his thoughts, and your dumbfounded expression.)

“One milk tea, as always.”

“No need to sound so enthusiastic,” Tingyun laughs before thanking you. A satisfied hum leaves her lips when drinking the beverage, and that’s all the indication you need to know you have, once again, aced the recipe.

Well done, me! You deserve a pat on the back and a century-long holiday away from as many people as possible!

Graceful movements snap you out of your fantasies. You blink rapidly to process the flutter of a fan, a disarmingly sweet giggle and a cold, paper-like material pressed into your palm.

“Have fun with your dream man~”

“Wait what—”

And then she’s gone, leaving you to stare blankly at the place she was standing mere moments prior. You’re starting to see a pattern here with people abruptly leaving you in a fit of confusion.

Well, nothing you can do about it now, you suppose. So instead you move your focus to the small, thin object enclosed in your hand. Its now-exposed surface gleams under the cafe lights, the reflection obscuring the details. A picture? But what can you do with a—

Wait. Is that… Jing Yuan… winking at the camera…?

Sure enough, under the pressure of your scrutiny as you hold the picture in various angles and heights, the winking face of Jing Yuan stares back at you in mockery. Somehow, this photo feels slightly more personal than the usual ones Tingyun distributes to the masses. Actually, you’re not sure how she even manages to obtain these photos in the first place and, quite frankly, you think it's best you don’t know.

…The hell am I supposed to do with this?

Just as you were wondering what to do with the polaroid, a familiar voice comes from behind — almost as if the small, glossy image clutched between your fingers had the ability to summon him. “If you wanted my photo, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please don’t misunderstand, general,” you deadpan in response, your head swerving to meet his amused gaze before placing the photocard on the counter. “I was given this against my own will.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” he hums, a melodic sound which serves to speed up the palpitations of your heart. It comes to an abrupt slow, however, when you spot the corners of his lips lift into a smug curve, already dreading whatever it is that may leave his lips. “I wonder why I find that hard to believe.”

“That's not my problem.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

…

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He laughs at your groan, eyes crinkling with joy at the dispense of your suffering. Yeah, why suffer when you can make drinks? Besides, you already know he’ll accept whatever it is you make, so there’s no reason to ask for his opinion!

He follows close behind when you venture behind the counter in search of some ingredients, uncaring for the stares he receives from the customers who aren’t regulars. 

When you crouch, you shoot one last accusatory glare at the still-smiling general before disappearing to rifle through cabinets underneath. “For someone in a position such as yours, you sure do have a lot of spare time to be spending it on a humble cafe worker such as myself.”

You’re not sure if he responds, too focused on searching for what you need. After finding the ingredients, you rock back on your heels and stand, the top of your head brushing against something smooth. When you rise, you realise it was the back of Jing Yuan’s hand which you made contact with, as he grips the edge of the counter where your head most definitely would have hit if he hadn’t cushioned the impact.

He merely grins when your eyes travel up the length of his arm to meet his gaze. “Well, what can I say other than you are worth every second of my time.”

…

“Don’t look at me like that, [Name].”

“Like what?” You watch as his smile strains when you repeat his words from earlier, a victorious grin creeping its way onto your lips. “Alright, alright. I’ll make your drink now. It won’t take long.”

True to your words, it doesn’t take long. Within a matter of minutes you’ve prepared a caramel latte. (It was the only thing you could find ingredients for. Perhaps it’s time to go shopping again…)

After securing the lid on the takeaway cup, you hand it over to him. He reaches out, your fingers brushing slightly and—

The silence is unnervingly loud as you both stare blankly at the spilled drink rolling across the counter.

“...I’ll be charging extra for that latte today.”

“Aha…”

You’re no stranger to quiet days in the cafe, and neither are the staff and regulars. After a particular incident way back when, it’s safe to say the establishment has faced many peaceful shifts. Though that’s not to say there hasn’t been any disputes from customers, but they’re usually small, easy to resolve issues that only require a practised smile and a (sometimes threatening) deal before sending them on their merry way.

Today, however, doesn’t seem to be one of those easy days.

“Sir, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” your voice resounds in the quiet cafe, stern and unwavering. The man in question tears his attention away from his phone to glance over his shoulder, his once haughty expression now fallen into a scowl.

“And why’s that?” he asks after telling the other person on the line to wait for a moment. “I’m not being disruptive to anyone.” With the progressively hostile looks he’s been getting since earlier, you beg to differ. Well, even if he clearly is an outworlder unaware of the Xianzhou customs, that doesn’t justify his ignorance.

And you decide to tell him just that.

“Since you seem to be a visitor, let me give you a piece of advice: it would do you well to cease all mentions of seeking immortality when aboard any of the Xianzhou ships, lest you want to make an enemy of yourself to the locals.”

“Oh? And who are you to tell me that?” 

Your eye twitches at his haughty tone. Within a second your signature customer smile is plastered onto your expression, an even tone conveying your next words, “A Xianzhou Native, of course.”

And the next thing you know there’s a seething customer causing a disruption in the middle of the cafe. Though not unexpected, you still held onto a fraying hope that the issue could be resolved somewhat peacefully.

How bothersome.

A light weight plops itself atop the line of your shoulder, shifting slightly with a soft brush against your jaw before coming to a still. With a blink, you and the man share a brief moment of confusion, and you find yourself more stupefied at the finch gazing up at you with a slight tilt of its head.

It looks familiar, but that isn’t much to go off of. Besides, the first person to come to mind already said he would be busy this week, so you highly doubt he’s managed to appear at just the right time like always… right? Right—

“What seems to be the issue here?”

Your answer comes in the form of a tender warmth encasing your back, a beguiling voice resounding from behind, and a familiar scent relaxing your tensed muscles. It doesn’t take a genius to recognise who’s standing behind you, but perhaps it’s because you’re so used to his presence that you can identify him the moment he steps into a room.

“General…” you trail off at his unexpected appearance. Jing Yuan does not meet your gaze, however, instead choosing to remain upright behind you and fixate his focus onto the man who kicked up a fuss, expression hardened into that akin of a general.

The little finch is not deterred by the overwhelming presence Jing Yuan now exudes. Rather, it chirps happily and nudges its head against your jaw once more before making itself comfortable along the slope of your neck. Looking at it a little closer you realise it's the one who sometimes greets you when you and Jing Yuan meet up, finding purchase on your shoulder during a round or two of starchess. A smile makes its way onto your lips when it leans into the touch of your finger.

It would seem the small bird did a great job in distracting you, however, for the next thing you know wind sweeps past you, exclamatory apologies spewed out in haste follow and gradually fade in its wake. There’s a faint chime of the bell and a missing presence in front of you.

Oh, you blink, he ran away.

Jing Yuan turns to you then, expression much softer than it was a few moments prior. “Are you alright?” he asks, his hand gently squeezing your free shoulder.

“Yeah, thank you,” you sigh. Your fingers lift to massage away the built up tension in your temples. “I’m sorry you had to see that on your break.”

There’s a small pause. “You shouldn’t apologise for something like that.”

“Huh…?” It was a mistake to meet his gaze, you belatedly realise, for your breath is ceased by the flame which burns molten gold, your heart caught in your throat amidst a gravitas you haven’t seen for a while.

His lips part, tone gradually changing to something more light-hearted; a stark contrast to his current expression. “You were just doing your job. It was that customer who was in the wrong. Honestly, he should have known better than to talk so flippantly about that topic.”

Well, you can’t refute his words.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You cough in an attempt to divert the topic, only to raise a brow at his unreadable countenance. “I thought you said you would be busy.”

Jing Yuan pauses, as though hesitant, before responding, “I sent you a message to send notice of my visit but you didn’t even leave me on read, so I knew there was something wrong.”

“I didn’t even notice…” Without a moment’s haste, you pull out your phone. There on your home screen displays notification banners: 6 unread messages from my headache <3.

my headache <3: I have some free time, so I will be paying you a visit. Don’t mention this to Qingzu though, she doesn’t know I am taking a break. =w=

my headache <3: Are you busy? You don’t usually leave me on delivered for longer than five minutes.

my headache <3: Did I do something to make you mad?

my headache <3: [Name]?

my headache <3: …

my headache <3: I will be at the cafe soon. Wait for me.

A pang of guilt seeps into your conscience. You hadn’t realised he sent so many messages. Did that customer take up that much of your attention? Also, do you really not leave him on delivered for more than five minutes??

“Oh! You kept the heart I put there?” Your thoughts are promptly cut off by the baritone voice resounding beside your ear. His light breaths puff against your skin as he leans against you, peeking over your shoulder to read the messages he sent.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you huff, eyes trained onto the device to avoid meeting his gaze. “I said you could make any changes you wanted to your contact name and this was what you wanted.”

He stiffens at your words, breath stuttering ever so slightly against your skin but quickly catches himself. There’s no response for a while, instead a wave of calm washes over you as you scroll through your phone with Jing Yuan watching from his place over your shoulder, sometimes recalling a particular memory which comes to mind at certain photos in your camera roll.

It goes on like this for a little while until he shifts, strands of silver brushing against the shell of your ear when he releases a light sigh. You glance over your shoulder only to see him already looking at you, the lines of his features soft and gentle.

“You know,” he starts, voice soft with a twinge of nostalgia seeping through, “I’m your first and longest supporter.”

Well, that certainly came out of the blue.

But he’s not wrong, and perhaps that is why you find yourself huffing out a breathy laugh in response. “What? You want me to praise you?”

“Would you?” he asks, an instantaneous response to your lighthearted jest.

You stare at him, incredulous, but he doesn’t falter. His gaze holds weight, seizing your breath and rendering you speechless. Ah, he really isn’t good for your heart.

“Keep dreaming, general.”

Despite the scoff backing those words, you make no effort to hide your smile. And though you don’t catch it, Jing Yuan makes no effort to hide the adoration glistening in his gaze.

Sidestep to the left. Duck. Step back. Parry. Clang! Step to the right. Pivot. Clack! Raise your arm—!

A sword flies up, twirling mid-air as it plummets back down and digs cleanly into the grass. It gleams under the artificial sun, becoming a focal point in the otherwise barren grounds. You straighten your posture, spear at your side and a bottle of water in hand as you approach the worn-out aspiring Sword Champion.

“You’ve improved, Yanqing.” You smile when he looks up, breathing ragged as he mumbles his thanks before guzzling down the fluids of the water bottle now in his hands. You sit beside him, and it’s not long before a refreshed sigh escapes him, setting the near-empty bottle in his lap.

A lapse of silence. A faint breeze. A wave of heat. A shift of gold.

You sigh upon noticing the boy’s gaze switching between you and your weapon. “What is it?”

“That spear,” he starts, “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“How so?”

“It’s different from the spears the rest of the Cloud Knight’s use and, even though it has a similar aura to the general’s Devastator Glaive, it feels like… it was almost made for you. A weapon that only you can wield.”

For a teen yet to explore the larger part of life, he is frighteningly perceptive. He’s quick to pick up subtle nuances and yet retains that innocent curiosity which enables him to ask questions most adults would not. It’s part of a child’s charm, and you can only hope he will never be robbed of that part of him.

“Made for me, you say?” You cast a glance to your side, vision tunnelling into the fine details which adorns the crafted spear. Despite the many centuries the weapon has braved through, it still appears as though it were only crafted yesterday. Its colours are still vibrant and its exterior holds minimal wear. Your breath hitches when your gaze trails down towards the hilt and hones in on the faintly carved names: yours and the one who gifted this to you.

Your mind numbs. There’s a matching bow which sits in your home, you recall, locked away in a spare room deep within the confinement of your walls. There are other accompaniments, too, surrounding it in decorated, bejewelled boxes filled with handicrafts ranging from everyday trinkets to carefully crafted ornaments carved from the purest of jades.

It sits there, collecting dust all year round. All year round except for one single day — a day when your thoughts surge to new heights and can only be tamed when in that room, cleaning off layers of dust and spiralling into seemingly endless nostalgia. It serves as both a commemoration of the past as well as a reminder for what will never again be.

Immortality truly is a wretched thing.

“[Name]?”

You blink, snapping out of your thoughts. Yanqing, who was sitting beside you mere moments prior, is in front of you with a hand on your shoulder. He probably shook you while you were lost in thought, you surmise. How mortifying…

“Your teacher seems to be slacking off,” you cough, swiftly changing the topic. He doesn’t take note of your awkward transition, but, if he did, he’s done a good job hiding it. “Is he busy?”

“The general?” he repeats in a murmur, chin held between his thumb and forefinger with a contemplative expression. He blinks. “Nope! No clue.”

“I see,” you sweatdrop. Worry begins to pool in the back of your mind, but it is quickly smothered when Yanqing jumps up, bouncing on his heels as he shows off his recovered energy and readiness to spar with you for another round.

You cast one last glance at your spear before standing, following close behind an eager Yanqing as he bounds to the middle of the field with his sword in hand.

(You can still recall him; the young man who gave you these gifts way back when, putting on airs of nonchalance in a poor attempt at masking his bashfulness, the furtive glances, the hand raised to rub the back of his neck, the awkward cough he always did before excusing himself after gifting whatever it was he made that time — all of it is practically ingrained into your mind.

You can still recall him; how could you not when he is the same man who haunts you when in your lonesome.)

--

He’s not here. Again.

You’ve lost count of the number of times your focus darts to the door when a resounding chime of the bell is heard, only to be left with aching disappointment when it turns out to be anyone other than Jing Yuan. His radio silence is concerning, though you suppose any kind of silence from him has that effect considering he always made sure to notify you when he would be busy, therefore unable to visit you due to urgent matters.

Has he been well? Has he been eating regularly? What of his sleeping habits? He’s not overworking himself again, is he? What if he left on an expedition without saying anything?

Your answer appears in the form of Yukong.

“The general?” she repeats, blowing lightly on the freshly brewed coffee before answering you. “While I am not completely in the know, I’ve heard in passing that he has been cooped up in his office. For once.”

It’s practically common knowledge to the Luofu citizens how Jing Yuan tends to be absent from the Seat of Divine Foresight. More often than not, he will appear as a hologram, sometimes choosing to instead give advance notice of his lack of presence. Well, you suppose most have grown accustomed to finding him at the cafe. So for him to now hide away in his office without a word is of course a matter of concern. After all, the last time he did this was years ago, and that was because he didn’t want you to worry about… him.

You pause, fists clenching at your belated realisation. A tinge of frustration begins to creep up, but the concern over his condition is far more prevalent, curling around and constricting your heart as worry clouds your senses. “That guy…”

--

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he comments, voice languid in a valiant attempt to hide the undertone of surprise at your arrival. He quickly recovers with a genial smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?” 

Admittedly, it would have fooled many others. Unfortunately, you have known him too long to be fooled by such tactics. You’re sure he knows, if the slight waver in his gaze has anything to say about it.

Instead of answering, you choose to remain still in front of the now-shut doors. He doesn’t seem to notice though, as he merely resumes his task in a robotic manner. Except for the two of you, the office is void of the usual stationed knights and his few assistants, making the room feel much larger. It’s daunting.

Your unease does not fade after hearing his voice. No, it only heightens, his sluggish movements and voice laden with exhaustion further spiralling you into a state of distress over his well-being. You watch his slow blinks, head dipping slightly only to snap up to prevent himself from falling into slumber before continuing to sign document after document, replacing each signed sheet with a new one in a never-ending cycle.

It would have been comical if you weren’t aware of the fact he’s been neglecting his health to finish these papers.

Typically, he wouldn’t be having this issue, always having been the type to get his work done ahead of time despite his… less than professional demeanour at times, though it seems the papers have been brought in heavy bulk this time around; that, or they contained pressing matters which couldn’t be put off.

“Take a break,” you finally say, unable to stand the sight of him pushing himself any longer. He doesn’t spare you a glance. If it weren’t for the brief pause in his writing before continuing, you would have thought he didn’t hear you. Teeth digging into your lower lip and eyes narrowing into a glare, you try once more. “I’m serious. Take a break.”

Palpable silence douses the room.

And then he lifts his head, meeting your furrowed gaze. His eyes are anything but bright, a dull glaze coupled with dark eyebags signifying his lack of sleep.

“I have to finish signing these papers,” Jing Yuan sighs out, giving what you assume to be an apologetic glance before lowering his head back down to resume the paperwork.

Unfortunately for him, you won’t allow him to succeed in his attempts.

“And I don’t want you to collapse from overwork again!” He flinches at that, and you know you have managed to convince him when he places his pen down on the table’s surface and relents with a deep sigh. When he finally nods, defeated, the building tension dissipates and you’re able to breathe without worry again.

With cautious steps, you make your way over to the large chair. Having been in this room countless times, it’s easy for you to glide to where Jing Yuan sits despite the darkness which now drapes like a veil over the interior.

When you reach his seat, your eyes harden at the scattered documents, staring at them for a few seconds in hopes it will miraculously burn them, before tearing your gaze away and focusing on your weary friend.

“Let’s get you home,” you mutter. You lean down and prepare to help him stand in case he needs the extra support after having sat for too long. It doesn’t go as planned, however, when he tugs you down beside him and plops his head onto your lap. “Hey—!”

“Just for a moment…” he intercepts, voice heavily laced with sleep. The second you lock eyes, you know it’s all over for you. “Just for a moment, stay here with me.”

And you sigh knowing ‘a moment’ will turn into hours. But you’re fine with that. As long as he gets his rest and can finally let his guard down, you would gladly lend him your lap for days on end.

“Fine.” You shift slightly to provide him more comfort. “Take as long as you need. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He responds in the form of a grateful smile and soft squeeze to your hand. Within a matter of seconds he’s sound asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest soothing the dull ache in your heart.

Cautiously, you raise your free hand and reach out to his peaceful expression. His hair is silkier than you last remember, easily threading your fingers through the soft strands to brush them away from obscuring his features.

‘Than I last remember’, huh…

Your eyes trail to the hand clutched in his.

Thinking back on it, it has been a while since you last relaxed like this with him. Life tends to be busy, the cafe takes up most of your time, and Jing Yuan has his official duties to take care of. No matter how lax he tries to play it off, you’re aware he has his hands full with governmental affairs and conjuring a multitude of tactics to minimise losses. That’s the kind of person he is — to badger you about the happenings in your life, yet hide away and gloss over his with a genial mask so as to not worry you.

You’ve always hated that part of him. Why can’t you worry for him? Why must it always be he who consoles you but not the other way around? Does he truly not know how his evasive tendencies pain you, intentional or not?

Questions, questions, questions; all these questions and yet there’s never a concrete answer.

Is he… really so oblivious to the way his secrecy is what spurs your distance with him?

Your hand pauses.

Perhaps steadily drawing a line between you is a pointless pursuit in clinging onto the past, a fleeting hope for everything to revert back to the way it was before; to deny the happenings of bygones which paved the way for the present.

Things will never be what they once were. You understand that. You accept that. And, perhaps, that is what makes it hurt all the more.

Four familiar faces emerge from deep within the hidden crevices of your conscience, ones you have not physically seen for a long time — too long, perhaps. And yet they appear just as vivid as before everything went up in flames, endlessly haunting you when you’re left alone with the silence of your own mind. No matter how tightly you shut your eyes in blatant refusal of their presence, nor the strength in which you cover your ears to drown out the remnants of their voices, they never leave you alone. They cling to you, desperate; the same way in which you are to be free of them.

But even so, in spite of the hostility and bitterness and hurt which remains in their wake and binds itself to their legacies, you cannot help but to wish they are doing well, wherever it is they may now be.

And maybe it’s the full moon glaring down at you which spurs this wishful thinking but, on the off-chance they return, perhaps those of you that are left can gather at the cafe after closing hours and chat about anything and everything, exciting and menial, you have come to experience in the time spent apart.

(Just like old times.)

But, of them, only Jing Yuan remains, and maybe that is why he doesn’t manifest alongside them as a result of this aching nostalgia, instead resting peacefully on your thighs with steady, even breaths; the only indication that he truly is here with you.

“We will be okay, Jing Yuan,” you find yourself whispering as you gaze down at him. “We’ve made it this far, and we’ll continue on, braving through our fate.”

The image of him blurs, his colours further contorting the more you try to blink it away. It is then you force your eyes shut, lean down towards him, lightly brush away his fringe and press two fleeting, chaste kisses: one against the skin of his forehead and the other atop the mole under his left eye. “If not for myself, then, for you, I’ll be okay.”

Whether that’s to reassure you or him… you’re not sure.

For as long as you can remember, Jing Yuan has always been with you.

It wasn’t merely a matter of staying by each other’s side during the day; no, it’s more than that. Your relationship runs deep — centuries bordering a millennia worth of memories tucked away in the crevices of your mind — and it would be an understatement to say you know each other like the back of your hand.

Together, the two of you have been through it all, in practically every sense of the word.

--

Despite enlisting into the Cloud Knights, it was far from what you wanted, instead aligning with the demands of your parents. To have that expectation of continuing your family’s tradition, to have that burden of battling for the Xianzhou Luofu’s legacy, to have that constant worry of one day being mara-struck due to your race, to perhaps never be able to do what you want for yourself, shackled to generations of family service… that was the meaning of your existence. Whether you liked it or not.

You eventually gave up, simply accepting your unwanted fate and following the hollowed footsteps carved by your ancestors. That was how you ended up amongst the new recruits for the Cloud Knights and listening to the current general’s speech about glory and honour and pride — all for the Xianzhou Alliance; all for the Xianzhou Luofu; all for the Cloud Knights.

Fate is such a weird thing, you remember thinking to yourself as your gaze swept across many others in the same uniform as you. Because despite you all looking the same, despite you all holding the same make of spear, you knew their passion and dedication to serve the alliance would far outweigh your own.

He was no exception.

Contrary to you, the boy who stood a couple rows in front wanted to be there. It was obvious in the way his eyes glimmered, the way he held himself in an upright posture and focused with rapt attention on the general at the front. Perhaps that was what caught your eye back then — the pure, unadulterated desire rolling off him had rooted you in place and forced your attention to be on him.

With a sigh you averted your gaze. There was only one thought which resonated within you in that brief moment: you would never grow close to that boy.

For, unlike you, he was made to shine under the glow of the artificial sun, while you were a passionless bystander relinquished of your fate.

--

It wasn’t long before you made a name for yourself amongst the new recruits of the Cloud Knights. It stemmed from a training session-turned-competition. One which you came out on top.

A natural prodigy is what they called you.

A lucky fluke is what they whispered behind your back.

Looking back, you’re not sure why you tried so hard. Did you think you would have it easy if you won? If anything, it probably made your future that much more troublesome with weighty expectations and watchful eyes from those around you.

Well, there went your quiet life.

At least it couldn’t be as suffocating as it would be back at home. The most you would receive are jealous glances from your weaker peers, or urges from your trainers to try a bit harder. But what reason was there to try when the outcome never changed?

“Why are you here?”

“Huh?” When you looked up, hands still gripped tight around the length of your training spear, your unimpressed eyes met pools of gold. They widened upon contact.

“Wait— that’s not what I—!” he had cut himself off with a sigh, pink dusting his cheeks. He quickly regathered himself and faced you once more. “I mean, why are you here when you clearly don’t want to be? I watched your matches earlier, but there was no light in your eyes… Kind of like now.”

Was that the expression you had? You would never know. What you did know was that the boy was persistent. Evading the topic would not work on him and, quite frankly, you were tired.

“I’m only here because of my parents,” you began. Your fists clenched and your eyes hardened as you lowered your gaze to the grass. “I hate my fate. I have no say in what I can or can’t do in my own life. That’s all there is to it.”

There was a moment of silence after your sombre words. Maybe now he would leave you alone and be on his way. Just like it should be. Someone like him who shines above the rest has no business with you, whose passion was extinguished before it could manifest.

“That’s not true.” Your gaze snapped up, words of protest ready to be let loose only for that burst of anger to dissipate the second you locked eyes. “You can escape your fate.”

“Hah! What nonsense are you—”

“Because that’s what I did.” You blinked once, twice. Your disbelief must have been obvious by the way he flushed slightly, the crimson tinge spanned from the tips of his ears to the apples of his cheeks. “I mean, my ‘fate’ was originally supposed to be a scholar or some kind of official in the Realm-Keeping Commission and follow my family’s footsteps, but look where I am now. I’m nowhere near that.” 

It was strange. He was not supposed to be someone similar to you. He was supposed to be someone you could only gaze at from afar. He burned brightly; you did not.

And yet, through his next words, you discovered that you, too, were capable of dreaming and hoping, the light suddenly appearing in what you deemed to be an abyssal darkness.

“I’m now a Cloud Knight, and I believe that you can also change your fate!”

A sense of camaraderie formed between you and the golden boy that day, an odd, tingling warmth coiled around your heart. Though an unfamiliar feeling, you found you didn’t hate it.

--

“Master asked about you today.”

“Tell her my answer is still no.”

“You don’t even know what she asked about!”

“Don’t need to.”

A sigh came from your left at your instant retorts, but that didn’t bother you. The sun was still up and you were set on soaking up as much of it as you could before Jing Yuan had to leave for his training.

It had been a couple years since you first met now, and you somehow became an inseparable pair; where one of you would be spotted, the other wouldn’t be far behind if not already there.

Well, most of the time, at least.

When Jing Yuan had caught the attention of the Sword Champion, Jingliu, he was offered a place in her team. He accepted, of course, and ever since then he began training under her guidance. As a result, those were the only times you were actively separated.

But by extension, you were somehow roped into her interest.

“So this is where you were.” You grimaced at the familiar tone, turning away as Jing Yuan scrambled beside you.

“Master…!”

“You go on ahead, Jing Yuan. There’s something I need to discuss with [Name].”

Although you hadn’t raised your head, the hesitation in Jing Yuan’s movements were clear. The silence stretched on for a long few seconds before he sighed, “I’ll meet you after I finish, [Name].”

And then he was gone, only you and the Sword Champion remained under the tree’s shade. Blades of grass swayed under the faint breeze, but that, too, came to a standstill within seconds.

“I noticed you didn’t take the oath earlier,” Jingliu said, the silence broken.

A humourless laugh escaped your lips. “I didn’t realise the Sword Champion was keeping such a close eye on me.”

“You’re hiding your talent.” You fell silent at her abrupt statement. Your fingers twitched when she continued. “I know you’re capable of more than you let on.”

What do you know? You thought to yourself as your fingers dug into the grass. You know nothing about me, so stop acting like it.

You never understood why she was so persistent. Was it because of how close you and Jing Yuan were? Had your parents somehow managed to contact and persuade her? What did she even gain from chasing after you when it was clearly a waste of her time? Why…

“Why… why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because he worries for you.” Your body stilled at her words. You stayed silent for a moment before responding, albeit weaker than your previous tone.

“I’m fine. There’s no reason to worry about me.”

“…[Name]—”

“It’s probably best if you go. Jing Yuan’s waiting for you.” She faltered at your words, ultimately conceding.

A sigh escaped you when you noticed her fall back and prepare to head to their usual training spot. She lingered however, and cast a glance over her shoulder to regard you once more.

“You should visit our training sometime,” Jingliu uttered, her usual stern expression a touch softer than what you were used to. “It would be nice to train together, and you can spend more time with Jing Yuan. I hope you can at least consider it.” And then you could only watch as she walked away, the hues of the sunset steadily engulfing her form.

Back then you had scoffed at her words, unaware of the bond you would come to form with the members of the High-Cloud Quintet as a result of your wretched curiosity.

--

“Someone became mara-struck on the expedition.”

“What…?” A soft gasp came from your left. “Is that why only you…”

“Yeah,” you hummed. You had no courage to face your friend next to you, choosing to instead stare listlessly at your quivering hands. “It happened so quickly. One moment we were discussing tactics, the next we heard screaming. It was agonising. And then, in the blink of an eye…” you gulped, drawing in a harsh breath as your hands clenched into fists, “I killed her. I had to. I… I was the only one left from the team and she kept coming after me and I realised then I truly didn’t want to die and—!”

Your words came to an abrupt halt, smothered by an all-too familiar warmth. The beat of his heart against your ear calmed your erratic breaths, allowing you to regain some semblance of composure. Even when you could no longer hear the rapid pounding of your heart ringing through your ears you remained slumped against his chest, the fatigue weighing down your muscles.

“Jing Yuan,” you called in a hoarse tone, “am I a monster now?”

“You’re not,” came his immediate response. You couldn’t find it in you to believe him.

“But I killed someone, Jing Yuan! We were comrades in arms and I took her life!”

“The situation was out of your control and it was the only thing you could do. It was for your survival and to stop her from suffering any longer. You’re not a monster, [Name].” His voice was steady like a pillar of support, a calm sound that could make you believe all the prior happenings were a mere nightmare you’d just awoken from. His arms around you tightened and pushed you further into his familiarity. “You never could be. Never to me.”

That day was the first time you had ever cried so hard to the point you passed out, the exhaustion having finally caught up. That day you were left unaware of the tears Jing Yuan held back as he bore witness to your rare vulnerability, vision blurring and heart aching as he internally vowed to stay by your side — until he no longer physically could.

--

As you both grew older within this endless spiral of longevity, you could only watch as he became something more than a mere soldier of the Cloud Knights — as he began to be someone out of your reach and unfamiliar against a golden glow too radiant for you to perceive.

It wasn’t long after that you left the Cloud Knights for a placement in a newly opened cafe, having had enough of a life out of your control and dictated by others. You had stayed with the Cloud Knights long enough and you finally found the courage to leave after your numerous contributions.

And while your family may not have been pleased with your decision, Jing Yuan had been supportive, taking it upon himself to visit you when he could despite his limited free time in-between training and expeditions. The other four of the High-Cloud Quintet would tag along as well, sometimes relaying entertaining stories to embarrass the others or to simply catch up with you during your time apart as you readily prepared food and drinks for the six of you to enjoy.

It felt like a dream to still be able to laugh with them.

Unfortunately, all dreams must come to an end. It was a notion that was so glaringly obvious, and yet it never truly occurred to you; not when their visits gradually became less frequent. Not when you began to notice the tension between a couple of your friends. Not when a familiar cold lingered during the moments where all was silent and you were alone.

It was through those moments you foolishly clung to the fraying hope that everything would turn out okay — that all the budding tension would smooth itself out, allowing for you to all converse like it never happened and to move past the hurdle.

Perhaps it was because you had deluded yourself into believing everything would be okay that, the moment your fantasy shattered before your very eyes, it hit you in a way far more torturous than death could ever hope to be.

It hit you in the form of Jing Yuan returning to you on that fateful day in his lonesome, eyes hollow and empty, body battered and bruised; your heart which beat for him shattered when he slumped against you, your world crashing in pursuit. The after-effects of the sobs wracking his battle-worn being reverberated through your slack form, a seemingly endless stream of tears stung the skin along the crook of your neck as he released his unfiltered anguish within your trembling embrace.

You found there was no need to ask how the confrontation with Jingliu went, for his desperate grip and hitched breaths spoke louder than his voice ever could.

At that moment, you believed there was nothing more painful than the sound of his broken cries — your mind, body and soul yearning to take his pain and make it your own at the sheer despair in his eyes as he seeked your comfort. In that moment, you had never felt so powerless, so utterly weak and useless when all you could do in the face of his agony was lend him your familiarity in the confines of the closed cafe.

Even now, seven hundred years later, you still do not believe there to be anything more painful.

During your quiet moments, you’ve always wondered what it would be like to experience some of the scenes penned in countless novels you’ve read. Would they be just as heart-throbbing as the authors depict them to be? Or would they fall flat and lacklustre when put into a real-world scenario?

What about the stories you’ve overheard during your shifts, or the tales the regulars recounted during the slow days? Would they ever happen to you as well? You’ve always wondered about these things, however…

Just what is this situation?? Isn’t it a bit too similar to that one scene in a novel you recently read? Well, it’s not as if you’re hiding away in the middle of an apocalypse, but the setting of an empty cafe after dark where it is just the two of you still remains the same.

Jing Yuan stands before you, his imposing silhouette prominent against the fragmented brushes of moonlight, pools of molten gold stark against the night’s backdrop. He remains still in the face of your racing thoughts.

The pelting rain (courtesy of the alliance’s artificial weather) drowns your thoughts. In all honesty, you can’t recall how you came to be in this situation. One moment you were closing up the cafe, the next a sudden downpour arrived alongside a drenched general. In your haste to bring him inside, you didn’t stop to think about why he was in the rain in the first place, the only objective in your mind being to dry him as soon as possible.

And so that’s what you did. Only, in your attempt to persuade the man to share an umbrella and walk back home, you were pulled back into him, the umbrella rolling helplessly across the floor as he rooted you in place by the presence of his hands on your shoulders.

Which leads you to your current predicament now.

“What is it?” you ask upon noticing his silence. There is hesitation in his silence. It prolongs in the way a void is endless, stretching on for miles upon miles with no end in sight. There’s a flicker of light in the form of his voice as he brings himself to speak, his words firm yet lacking that usual self-assured intonation he always has.

“Am I someone close to you? No, do you consider me as someone close to you?”

“What nonsense are you…” your words die out when you fail to see his usual air of playfulness, a grave countenance piercing you in its stead. “Of course I consider you as someone close to me. I wouldn’t have spent centuries upon centuries by your side otherwise.” He doesn’t seem to take your light jest well, if his darkening expression has anything to say about it.

“Then why are you still formal with me, even when in private and away from prying eyes?”

“Because you’re one of the Seven Arbiter-Generals, while I am a cafe employee. In a realistic perspective, we are not the same and I’m aware of our boundaries. In fact,” you mumble, meeting his conflicted gaze with a blank one, “I should be the one asking you if I’m someone close to you.”

It’s silent for a brief moment, up until a whispered murmur of “And just who is the one speaking nonsense now?” shatters it.

Your patience, too, shatters alongside it.

“Then what else am I supposed to think when you’re always keeping things from me? You’re always asking about what I’ve done in the day and prying into the details of my life, but what about you? Whenever I ask how things are, or if there’s anything troubling you, you just brush it off like it’s nothing and avoid answering altogether! Am I not allowed to worry about you? Am I not someone who can lend you a shoulder?

You always blabbered about sharing each other’s pain, to not keep our hardships to ourselves, but take a look at yourself first. ‘Am I someone close to you?’ ‘Do you consider me as someone close to you?’ You have no right to ask me those questions when it’s you who's been the one keeping their distance this whole time. What…” A shuddering breath escapes you, your mouth running dry amidst your high emotions. There’s a dull pain which spreads through your bottom lip, your teeth digging into the soft flesh just as your nails do in your palms. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you can only hope it's enough to prevent the well of tears building behind your lids. “What else am I supposed to do if you refuse to let me in?”

You’re tired, you come to realise. Tired of his avoidance and tired of his secrecy. Even if you don’t have the energy to voice your other built-up sentiments, you have an inkling he already knows — whether or not he wants to admit it… well, that’s a problem for him, not for you.

The sigh you release is heavy; heavy with emotion and fatigue.

Your gaze drifts to the window behind the silent man. Despite the ripples in the puddles, the previous downpour has begun to let up, now only a faint pitter patter is all that remains. Seeing how Jing Yuan has made no effort to move or speak, you decide it would be best to leave as soon as possible. After all, there is no fight left in you, only a frail shell hollowed by your insecurities.

When you try to move, however, his grip tightens. You’re pulled closer than you were just a moment ago and his fingers dig into the fabric of your clothing — as though he were desperate to keep you in his sights. Your protests die before they can even arise, for the way his eyes glimmer despite there being no light renders you immobile.

“Do you really not see?” His voice comes in the form of a broken whisper, and you try to suppress the suffocating ache in your heart when he gazes at you as though he witnessed you pluck the stars and hand it to him.

“See what?” you scoff, a weak sound that pales against the hammering of your pulse. “All I see is a coward running away from his problems.”

A cold silence. A trembling grip. A shuddering breath.

“You’re right. I am a coward.” You’re taken aback by his ready agreement, though you’re unable to dwell on it for long when his voice gradually begins to rise, his emotions spilling over in pursuit. “I run from problems I cannot handle. I avoid anything that can be deemed as troublesome. I fear that if I burden you with my pain — with my hardships — you will grow tired of me and leave. You’re already so far away, you’ve always been so far from my reach, and yet…” A strained gulp follows his dying words. “And yet if even your fading silhouette is something I can no longer see, then I don’t know what I will do with myself.”

There’s a plethora of things you want to say, but none can be articulated. No matter how much you try and force the words out, nothing is uttered. Just as you think the words will string together, he laughs, humourless and empty.

“You’re right. I have no right to ask you when I’m the one pushing you away — when I’m the one causing this rift between us. But what else must I do to stay by your side, if not this? Where else can I reach you, if not shadowed by your light? You’re the last person I want to lose, [Name], so please,” his voice trembles ever so slightly, a detail that would go unheard if it were not for the fact it is just the two of you, a desolate silence, and frail streaks of moonlight, “don’t go to some place I can’t find you.” 

His chest heaves in tandem with his shuddering breaths, the only sound which punctures the still air. You’re not sure which is louder: that, or the white noise ringing amidst your senses. There is no room for thought, however, as you barely take note of your lips parting and the words which leave them.

“You… make me feel like a fool the longer I stay with you.” Your words are not loud, nor are they particularly harsh. But with the current atmosphere being so tense, you may as well have shouted them from the bottom of your heart with the way the echo ricochets within the empty cafe.

Even if your words are not loud, the silence most definitely is; deafeningly so.

After your… confession, for a lack of better words, belatedly registers in your conscience, you have half a mind to slap yourself silly. After all, who in their right mind responds to such an emotional, heartfelt barrage with… that.

You, it would seem.

(A petty part of you deems it fine considering the inner turmoil he’s put you through for Aeons knows how long.)

“Do you want to know something?” he asks, leaving you with no time to linger on your life choices. “When I’m with you, I feel like a fool as well.” Your surprise must have been obvious as he chuckles lightly with a gaze never straying from you. There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, one which lightens your heart without dismissing the emotions woven into the space between you. Before you can even think up a response, he continues. “Even if I rehearse what I plan to say to you, it rarely comes out the way I want. Sometimes the words don’t even come out at all. It’s always been this way, even before we became acquainted with each other.”

You blink at his words, stupefied. “You mean back when we were first enlisted into the Cloud Knights?” His sheepish chuckle is answer enough. “Wait— you mean— since all the way back then— huh??”

“Yeah,” he responds, voice light and teeming with unbridled affection, “since the moment I saw you in the welcome ceremony.”

????? Since then?! All you can remember is not wanting anything to do with him back then! To think you never noticed anything until he said it now, though technically it’s not entirely your fault since he never explicitly said anything… right?

Yeah, no it’s both your faults.

“I’m sorry to not have noticed anything till now,” you sigh, your head drooping. “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

(Jing Yuan just barely manages to control himself from kissing you senseless right then and there. Who gave you the right to be so adorable?? Not him, but you won’t catch him complaining.)

“Anything, you say?” he asks after a cough or two. Your eyes narrow at his behaviour before shrugging it off.

“Well, within reason…” you trail off at his pointed look, your mouth instantly shutting at his expression akin to — dare you say — puppy-dog eyes. It’s oddly cute, though you’ve always found his sleepy, cat-like demeanour to be the most endearing and heart-melting of all. (Not that you would ever admit this to him, of course. Well, not when he’s awake, at least.) And so, unsurprisingly, you relent. “Okay. Anything.”

“Then don’t be formal and act distant in public. Just call me ‘Jing Yuan’ familiarly like you used to.”

You blink once, twice. “...That’s it?”

“Well,” he drawls, “considering how you only addressed me as ‘General’ or ‘General Jing Yuan’, which was admittedly closer to my preference, despite being one of the few who were well aware I never wanted to be a general in the first place, I believe it’s the least you can do to show your sincerity.”

You scoff. “You sure know how to hold a grudge, foolish Jing Yuan.”

And he laughs, a breathy melody which sets your heart ablaze. Then you feel his fingers thread through yours, the faint callouses brushing against the back of your hand a testament to his battle prowess.

His lashes flutter shut as your hand is brought up towards his lips. Just as the plush of his lips grazes against your palm, his head dips, instead planting a soft kiss along the pulse point of your inner wrist. There’s a huff of laughter against your warmed skin, and you’re positive it’s because he found amusement in the way your pulse surged and stuttered under his lips.

Smug bastard.

His lashes flutter once more when they open into a half-lidded gaze, your wrist growing ticklish as his lips begin to move against your skin as he murmurs out, “I suppose that makes two of us, my foolish [Name].” When he turns to stare at you completely, his expression is nothing short of soft — eyes filled to the brim and overflowing with tender adoration doused in liquid gold and a warm, gentle curve of a smile that has you clammed up and breathless.

“Yeah,” you mumble after regaining some semblance of composure, unable to stop the smile which blooms on your lips, “I suppose it does.”

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

[gyuswhore]

if you’re taking requests currently I’d like to request a Gyu one shot/imagine about his gf being in a dangerous situation or someone following them and she calls him and possessive, overprotective & cute Mingyu do something about it 🫠🫠

Please stay safe and carry pepper spray to purge all your enemies <3

hope yall have a mingyu in your life too lol

masterlist

***

You wanted to believe it was all in your head, the very apparent car that'd been slowly riding up beside you on the road. It had the standard red flags; headlights off, strangely slow, taking every turn you took.

Choosing to follow your gut, you make a sharp turn into a nearby convenience store for refuge, pretending to look through ramen stashes.

Pulling your phone out, you attempt to call Mingyu, hoping he wasn't already asleep. He answers quick enough, and you immediately begin to spill.

"Can you wait downstairs? Like outside the building or something, I'll only be 5 minutes"

"Okay, yeah. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine it's just-"

"Are you being followed?" he cuts sharply.

You pause for a moment. "I-I think? I don't know, this stupid Sedan's been following me for good five minutes"

"Is it still following you?"

"I'm in the convenience store off the street, I'm not sure."

"Okay, stay there, don't move, I'm coming"

The beep on your phone signals your call is about to end and you warn him.

"I'm gonna have to get off the phone, I'm running out of minutes"

"What the fuck" he huffs, "We need to get you on a postpaid plan, who-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence when the call dies, and for some reason you start panicking even more, seemingly forgetting he could also call you back. Which he does.

"Okay, I'm rounding the corner give me a minute" he starts talking immediately when the call reconnects and you feel calmer.

"Okay, okay..." you reassure more to yourself.

"Is there a clerk at the store?" he asks.

"Uh yeah there is, they're at the counter"

"Okay, I'm almost there" There's struggle in his voice, you can only assume he's borderline sprinting to get here.

Mingyu finds you pacing the ramen aisle all antsy, ending the call when he finally sets eyes on you.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see him at last, allowing him to engulf you, staying there for a moment or two.

You must look insane, hugging each other for a prolonged period in the middle of a corner store, but you're both too relieved to care.

"Would've slashed the tyres if the ass didn't look like they were still in the car"

Giggling at the thought of Mingyu committing a petty crime, you pull him over and out the door of the store to leave.

As you continue your walk back home, hand in hand, you vaguely notice the familiar black car roll out of the street and out of sight.

"Yeah, that's right, you better fuck off" you hear your boy ramble, not missing the hitting motions he's making at the zooming car.

"Okay, superman, let's go"

"I memorized his number plate, don't worry babe, I'm taking his ass to court"

You can't help but giggle at his passionate advances. "Let's go home, love"

[whalesforhands]

purge your turmoil pt.8 (satosugu x reader)

previous masterlist next

warnings: yandere behaviors and tendencies, my experimental tone shifts, not really creepy unless u find obsessive behaviors and patterns horrifying, gore mentions

Surrounded by debris of the dilapidated, abandoned hospital, you hold onto a raggedy stuffed doll left behind.

 It’s soft and colourful. Or, it once was. Her dress stained and riddled with blood and dirt, her cotton body having been slashed through the middle, soft cotton falling out as you hold her.

 A child’s final comfort in their last moments. It’s hard to breathe thinking about it. 

Your thumb gently caresses the doll’s smiling face, clearing off dust and remnants of dirt as best you could. 

“Will this,” Your words tremble. “Ever end?” 

Suguru stands beside you,  hands clenching when he catches the look of quiet despair on your face.

“I think… It’s not something to hope for.” He wishes he could offer more than just this.

“It’s,” You suck in a harsh breath, not realizing you’ve been holding your breath. “Been hard.” Your eyes flutter close as you try to ignore the haunting memories of blood on your hands, of cries for help, of massacred bodies of unfortunate victims. Over and over and over and over-

“And here you are, despite how hard it’s been.” He’s beside you now, kneeling down on one knee next to you as he tenderly grips a dirtied, matching ribbon found within the rubble back around the doll’s neck, tenderly patting its head when he finishes. 

It’s whole once again. You gently prop it against the crumbled pillar.

You hope that in another life, that doll and her owner are reunited.

——

The ticking of a clock sounds out somewhere around you, quiet and constant, each tock giving your eyelids the strength to finally lift, only to be met with the endless darkness ahead of you.

You don’t know if you’re still alive.

You’ve been floating around in here for… God knows how long. It’s lonely. Everyone. What’s happening? Where are they? You miss Shoko. You miss Satoru. You miss Suguru. You miss Yaga. You miss that little boy.

“You look like someone I know.”

You gently smile at him, eyes closed in amused bliss as you continue to stroke his hair, his head in your lap as he stares up at you with a furrowed brow of scrutinization.

“That so? I don’t think my features are very distinguishable from others, I suppose.” You giggle out, happy to have the young boy so comforted in your embrace as you softly pat his head.

(He’s so soft and squishy. You want to pull and stretch those mochi-like cheeks of his. You refrain, afraid of another barking remark that ultimately held no bite.)

“That’s not what I meant.” He pulls a sulky, irritated expression, brows still downturned into one of dissatisfaction, as if he can’t put his finger on where the sense of familiarity was coming from.

“You look like the pictures in the-“

You miss everyone. When was the last time you talked to them? You think and think, churning your brain, eyes squeezing close as you’re hit by a wave of bitter pain, your spine straightening out as you clutch your head.

“I think…” You begin to trail off, eyes stuck to the glowing blue glass of the aquarium as you watch a whale shark swim past your vicinity within the enclosure.

It’s tranquil. You squeeze the warm hands you held as you watched the sight before you with a smile.

“If I could choose… I’d like a life where I could grow old with all of you.”

You’re smiling as you think about it. Maybe you could rent a little apartment near wherever the 3 of them are staying, a quaint, quiet neighbourhood…

(…marriage? Maybe. That promise still makes you blush.)

Riko would give up on her little Star Plasma spiel. Live the way she truly wanted to, a way where she can finally find happiness, experience the joys she’s yet to feel.

Everyone… Would just be happy. Just like they deserve, just like they should.

But… You can’t possibly witness that if you’re dead, right? Your fingers claw at your face as you feel the bewildering pain of your thoughts. Are you really dead? No— Please, there’s still so much left to do. Your pitiful life should’ve had a reason for your living, and yet—

You can’t hear them. Can’t hear anything. You’re dead. Dead. What’s happening out there? Move. Move. Move.

The silence is deafening as your body squirms and you block out your ears.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tickticktickticktick-

Nobody is answering you. You’re missing the physical connection you once had to your body. How long has it been? How long have you been stuck like this? Time doesn’t even feel like it exists while you’re here.

The incessant ticking comes to a stop.

——

You learned to recognize this place in your time here. Your cursed void. One where no one but you could enter, and no one but you could leave.

The problem was… You couldn’t leave. You’ve tried. Walked and walked for endless miles, clawed at the abyssal darkness that never had an end, screamed into the void for hours just to never have an answer.

You… Can’t really be in here forever, can you?

It’s lonely in here.

“Gojo-sama, who is (last name)-san…?”

The tall man grins micheviously, looking down at the tiny hand he held within his palms as he squeezes lightly, before bending down to be eye level with his child.

“A special someone you’ll meet soon enough.”

——

“Nanako… We shouldn’t be in here…”

“It’s fine, Mimi! Papa and Daddy didn’t say we can’t visit! We just want to put the fresh flowers in for her! Plus…” She pauses, turning her head left and right, scouring the area.

“Megumi and Tsumiki aren’t here to stop us!”

The last sentence was dropped to a whisper, as if the blonde just realized her voice could attract attention.

Suguru kisses your hair, hands trailing to interlock your fingers with his own as he breathes in the very feel of you.

“Look, kids.” Geto pulls away, touch still lingering on your skin that had long gone cold years ago. He flashes a smile towards his awaiting children, showing you off for them to see.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

You startle from your curled up position, hearing two faint sets of feet patter into the room. Slow, trying their best to tiptoe before a certain pair gives up, breaking into a sprint towards you.

A tiny crack forms within your domain as your ears keen to listen.

“See! It’s perfectly fine!”

You hear tapping, the fumbling of paper and plastic.

“Papa said it’s okay to give her flowers. I wanna be first cause today’s her…” She furrows her brows as she tries to mouth out the word. “Anniv- Ersaury?”

Mimiko frowns at her twin. “We should wait till everyone gets here…” She’s unsure, hugging her plush to her chest as she nervously looks around, more afraid of getting in trouble with her beloved parents more than anything.

The crack grows larger, making its way towards you.

“But last time we only got to spend like 10 seconds with her before Papa and Daddy chased us out!” Nanako huffed, a hand on her hip as she gripped a large bouquet of white lilies and osmanthus flowers, Mimiko holding onto the incense sticks.

“Anyway!” Nanako turns back to face you, settling the flowers down as she moves to kneel before you, hurrying Mimiko to start placing the incense.

“Let’s just start!”

You swiftly move towards it, ignoring the shards of glass digging into the soles of your feet, eyes burning from the shimmers of light shining through the holes as you chase it down, wanting, yearning for this escape.

The anxious twin lets out a deep sigh, lighting the incense sticks with a nearby candle as she hands a few to her awaiting sister, who settles down comfortably on her knees atop the prayer pillow.

“I wish for you to get better soon!” She holds the incense sticks up with her hands as she prays, eyes closed in deep concentration.

“Mhm…” Her twin follows suit, surrounding the room in a deep silence as they are joined by the flickers of the flame, the slow dripping of dewdrops from their fresh flowers chorusing with their heartfelt pleas.

Your surroundings begin to shatter, glass like formations raining down upon you as a shining bright light envelops your sight, a bubble immediately blowing up and swallowing you in its embrace as you begin to glow, the twins jumping off and Nanako standing protectively before her sister as she gets pushed back by your cursed technique.

“I- I think we broke it…” Mimiko’s voice is starting to crack as her tears begin to well up in her eyes, her hand dragging Nanako further back from you.

“Shh! What if Daddy hears us?”

“But he’s gone to pick up Gumi and big sister Tsumiki…”

Your eyelashes flutter as you slowly blink open your eyes, sensations of touch and your feel of the atmosphere slowly return to you. Your dried up flesh slowly plumping up, blood beginning to flow throughout your body, face instantaneously flushing with colour once more as you gasp out, taking lungfuls of air, irises rolling back to the front to view the space before you.

“Nanako… Is that…?”

You’re met with the darkness of what seems to be a bedroom. You slowly move to get up, bones creaking and your fingers slowly twitching to really get the feel of your body back, brushing against the various lilies and osmanthus flowers surrounding you, seemingly fresh in nature as dewdrops slowly dripped off the petals and onto your fingertips.

You look around you, disoriented and feeling fatigued, slowly sitting up against the plush area you were lying upon. It felt like you had just awoken from the dead.

“H…ello?” Your eyes flicker over to the 2 little girls standing before you, voice hoarse, broken. Vocal cords tangled together from years of underuse as you feel your organs literally start to pump to life, eyesight slowly coming back as your vision gets restored by the bubble.

It pops.

They scream, rushing towards you as they lunge towards your form.

“We did it Mimi! We cured Mama!”

Mama…? Did you- Oh my god. You’re blushing up a storm at the thought of it.

“Wha-What…?” Their smiles grow ever bigger, hugs growing startlingly tight for their small forms.

“Mhm! Along with Gumi and our big sister Tsumiki! But they’re at school now and Daddy is gonna pick them up and buy us lunch, then, then! We’re gonna eat dinner together cause Papa’s coming back today, then we’re gonna tell them we woke you up!”

“B-but we have to apologise to Papa and Daddy first for going inside the room, Nanako…”

You hear Nanako audibly gulp. “O-okay, but what if-“

Your eyes are starting to gloss over. You didn’t think that you’d be having 4 kids after being in that void for so long…

“W-wait—“ You’re trying to get used to your voicebox, trying to get used to the feeling of being alive once more. “Y-Your par—“

“Ahh, I’m so hungry!” The blonde one is curling herself into your chest as she whimpers from her hunger, a loud growl coming from her supposed sister next to her as she hugs your arm to her chest alongside her plushie.

You look down at the girls who are still upon your lap, staring up at you in expectant want. Oh— You suppose your question can wait for later.

…everything happens for a reason, right?

(Where is everyone?)

——

“Is the fridge always this empty?” You’re standing shakily on your feet, almost akin to a newborn whilst trying your best to not lose balance.

“No, Papa is just out of town on his job right now!” Nanako puts her hands on her hips as Mimiko signals you to come down with a frantic come hither motion of her hand, you kneel to her level, nearly falling over had it not been for the second twin flanking onto your other side and pushing you up with all her body’s strength, whilst Mimiko cups a hand around her mouth, whispering into your right ear.

“Daddy can’t cook, so he always buys takeout when Papa isn’t around…”

Nanako tugs at your sleeve on your left, signalling for you to come towards her.

“Don’t tell Papa but,” Her voice gains an excited tremor. “Sometimes Daddy lets us eat ice cream and cake for dinner!” She pauses once again.

“And he forgets to remind us to brush our teeth!” The girls giggle together in unison.

“Then sometimes, when Daddy is called on for a sudden mission…”

“He brings us all along and lets us watch him beat up the bad guys right in front of us! Gumi likes it the most!” The girls start zooming around you, throwing punches into the air and pretending to hit each other as Nanako feigns hurt when she takes a ‘direct’ hit from Mimiko’s plush.

“Ahhh! I’ve been hit by Red! KABOOSH!!” She falls dramatically to the ground, imitating a explosion with waves of her little arms before splaying herself by your feet and clutching your calf.

“Like that!”

…

…

You’re sweating with stress as you listen, patting their heads as they smile angelically at you. You need to talk to their parents about this before you get a heart attack.

(Missions… Red… Are their parents jujutsu sorcerers?)

“Girls.” You stand back up, your hands placed on both of their heads as you began to pat them gently as they nuzzle up into your warm touch. Nanako holds your hand in place when she feels you try to pull away, whilst Mimiko begins to intertwine her fingers with your own, trying to trap you.

“Why don’t we go buy something?”

——

You’re silently panicking as the two girls drag you towards the old crepe shop, tugging you by the hand as you’re slightly hunched over to allow them easier access to you.

You forgot the most crucial thing.

Money.

“Papa and Daddy always lets us follow them to the school! Then, then-!”

“Then we buy chocolate milk because Papa and Daddy really like it!”

“But Daddy never finishes his, so we get extra cause he gives it to us!”

“Then we play with Uncle Yaga who gives us new dolls every month! Then Uncle Yu, he’s super, super fun! Auntie Shoko gives us sweets when Papa isn’t looking!”

(Yaga, Yu— Shoko…!)

Mimiko pipes in. “Uncle Kento sometimes plays with us when he’s not busy eating his big sandwiches… Then Megumi and Miki comes back from school and then-!”

(Kento… Megumi? Miki? Does this mean— Could it be?)

“We eat dinner together!”

“You’re gonna lovvvveeee them!”

Your hands pat their hands, feeling them nuzzle into your warm touch.

“I’m sure I will.” You’re suddenly before the crepe stand as the two girls drool over their options. “But first, um… Do you girls happen to have any allowance?”

(“Oh! Yea!” Mimiko unzips the back of her plushie, pulling out a singular 10000 yen bill as your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“Daddy gave it to us before he left so that we could use it if we wanted!”

Your jaw is still hanging low in shock to process her words.)

——

“Uncle Yaga!” The girls pounce into his arms, causing him to stumble before he firmly plants his feet onto the ground.

“Children…! What are you doing here?” His voice had lost their usual rough tone, turning softer as he smiles down at the familiar kids. Still… They shouldn’t be here. Is Gojo nearby—

He senses it.

He feels the pulse of a familiar energy, hurriedly pushing the kids behind him as his sunglasses scan the area, spotting your tired form slumped over against a tree, trying to catch your breath.

“Kids…” You’re huffing as you try to get your bearings back. “Please don’t run…!”

No. It couldn’t be— There’s absolutely no way—! His hands ready themselves, calling for his cursed corpses to the scene before you-!

“Ahh! Yaga-sensei…!” You’re still panting as you reach him, sweat on your brow and your legs jellylike as the twins continue to cling onto him, wondering what’s going on.

“I’m so glad you weren’t so far away!” You’re sweating, smiling through your tiredness as you try to regain your bearings.

“I have so much to ask you!”

…

“Let’s talk in my office.”

——

There’s a hurried stampede of feet before the door is quite literally ripped off its hinges.

Her unlit cigarette collapses to the floor from her grip as she stares at the sight before her, felt the surrounding cursed energy as her body freezes in place.

She takes a step back, legs trembling when she places a hand over her mouth in shock, her eyes widened in horror and distress as she met your form.

Suguru’s distraught as he looks into your eyes. Eyes that never should’ve opened ever again. Eyes that he thought he would never see again. Eyes that he missed seeing with every fiber of his being, every speck of his soul.

You.

How are you here? Why were you out of that room specifically made to contain you?

Why are you alive?

“Yaga.” His eyes have narrowed into dangerous slits, fingernails digging painfully into the calloused flesh of his palms as the snarl he has on his face grows turbulent and murderous.

His curses are immediately summoned, one delegated to swallowing Shoko and tucking her away in its belly as it brings her devastated form to safety.

It’s tense. The words are stuck in your throat as you try to make yourself heard.

The mere presence of his cursed energy is causing you to freeze up from the overwhelming fear.

His cursed spirits were on their haunches, ready to pounce and stab and claw through the flesh of anyone who dares to stir the rage, the trembling anger of their master.

Your eyes widen as you witness the familiar worm spirit appear by his shoulder, hurling out a long set of nunchucks from its disgusting mouth. Your hands tremble as your spine straightens, his gaze deadset on you as you see the flashes of a million emotions running through him.

You’re breathless in his presence.

“You have 5 seconds,” Yaga feels the dreadfully cold voice of the special grade shaman, the aura emanating sending chills down his very spine as the lightbulb bursts, darkness swallowing the room as the air suddenly fills with putrid, thick smoke that crept into his lungs, skin prickling with goosebumps.

The suffocating presence of Geto Suguru.

“To tell me why my wife’s corpse is in front of us.”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

Through abuse of his power as the revered Six Eyes and Limitless technique inheritor of the renowned Gojo clan, Gojo was able to get possession over your body.

Geto and Ieiri were the ones who made a special coffin in efforts to preserve your body utilizing cursed energy.

Yaga was about to attack you after sensing your cursed energy. But the sight before him— Made him realise you can’t exactly be a threat.

Geto thinks you’re a curse. How devastating, to think that a mere curse dares to imitate your presence, dares to imitate you on your death anniversary. He wants to hurl, to vomit. The feeling in his mouth more disgusting, more vile than any curse he’s ever swallowed.

And yet, his heart yearns to feel you in his arms once more.

nvy’s aftertalk:

who wants to guess wtf is happening hahahahah

that praying scene is inspired partially by the way i do it when i go to the temple to pray haha

[crazy-ache]

Ngl as a writer myself I had planned to write for elaik week too but I have been informed of their policing and bs and honestly no thank you. You can submit it for elain week but I think it would be nice to let them starve

I’m on the fence, anon.

It comes down to feeling very frustrated by individuals who do not fundamentally understand fandom running community-wide events. I have been around the block when it comes to fandom, ship wars, and fanfiction. I’ve never seen this kind of behavior before honestly. And the overwhelming response of “Well if you don’t like it then go make your own Elain Week” is such classic mean girl behavior. It’s middle school where the clique that loves to fucking gaslight you with exclusion tactics and fake ass excuses doesn’t understand why you’re mad all of a sudden.

You are the established and organized community event that has claimed to be neutral, welcome, and inclusive. It is YOUR responsibility to uphold that, not ours to leave and create our own when you are clearly not doing that.

Fandom comes from the word fanatic so when are we going to pretend this is a moral, normal place?

Our fandom roots and origins come from obsessive nerds in sci-fi AND queer works of fiction - it was a place for people who were not privileged in society to have a place and sense of community in a safe manner

AO3 was created to have a safe place for fan works (ANYTHING -- het, slash, RPF, chan, kink, highly adult) because there was a time when these works were deleted and purged from the internet on Fanfiction/LiveJournal

This isn’t about Tamlin at the end of the day. It bothers me when a Character Event week pretends to play Moral Judge and dictate what is wrong and right when it comes to shipping/fan creations. Fandom has always been and SHOULD be a place where we allow people to create freely in a place of community.

And I don’t blame people for the drama and uproar for it. Because pushing back on authority and rigidity is also a basic tenet of fandom.

All of that to say, I am still on the fence because I want to show up for Elain, but I also realize this may all be falling on deaf ears unfortunately.

[etherealspacejelly]

; 🌻

hello hello i am running out of topics aaaaaa

you know what Gets Me about spirk? i knew about it. right. i knew it was there. i was like ah yeah those fuckers from star trek who invented fanfiction yeah ok. cool. but i didnt Understand. not until i started watching

because, you mean to tell me, that these two. these two mother fuckers. they just. run around saying shit like. "I have been and ever shall be yours."

they just, casually sacrifice their entire careers, their lives, the fucking. ENTERPRISE ITSELF. for each other. over and over and over and thats normal. this is normal.

spock tries to purge all of his emotions and when he finds out that he cant hes like well what do i do about this and his Moment Of Enlightenment consists of mind melding with a sentient computer and realising that love and beauty are worth having and then he HOLDS HANDS WITH JIM. AND SAYS "this simple feeling is beyond [the computer]'s comprehension.' AND IM JUST SUPPOSED TO. BE NORMAL ABOUT THAT??

THESE FUCKERS. THESE MOTHER FUCKERS.

and dont even get me started on the B O O K S. the t'hy'la footnote??? hello??? mr gene roddenberry i just wanna talk. ill get the fucking ouija board if i have to.

if i was a star trek fan in the 60s i would have invented slash too are you Kidding Me.

why cant my special interests be anything Useful why do i have space yaoi autism. what the fuck is this. these gays are ruining my life

[unholy-cvlt]

WATCH ME AS I COME TO GRIEF

Encounter many problems in life

Dealing with a constant strife

Confidence nowhere to be found

Ability run into the ground

My future looks extremely bleak

An immediate exit I seek

Ready to take my chances with fate

Carve my name in a block of slate

Razor blades are everywhere

They'll help me through my despair

Horizontal slashes-the wrist

Bleed, purge, my final bliss

My equilibrium is way off balance

I should be placed under surveillance

As I add to these holes in the walls

Life's got me by the balls

Watch me as I come to grief

Writhing in my final release

Agony like you've never known

From this clump of dust I'm thrown

Betrayal!!!

Betrayal!!!

Deceived me

I'll screw you all in the end

[caramel-flan]

🏮 3.4 LANTERN RITE EPILOGUE 

// SPOILERS AHEAD

There’s so much to unpack here regarding Venti and Zhongli but can we talk about this exchange at the end:

Going insane because the way the scene is framed and how the conversation pans between the two of them... it seems like Venti is speaking indirectly about himself and Zhongli.

If we take a look at some of the previous scenes:

What’s interesting are the moments after the dinner, when Hu Tao and co. are gathered to re-light the incense.

While Hu Tao makes her speech we see Venti looking contemplatively at Zhongli while everyone else is looking at the incense.

He applauds Hu Tao for her idea before nominating Zhongli as the most distinguished guest

This part is hilarious, to the humans present it sure is strange that Venti would immediately nominate this person he’s just met and chatted with briefly as opposed to one of his equally accomplished “old friends”?

But Venti gives his reasoning and finally this leads to another scene we aren’t talking about enough:

For the majority of the night Venti and Zhongli have been so un-serious with each other. At the dinner table they’re having fun with their ridiculous 4d compliments battle slash game of ‘Hey stranger’.

And it’s understandable that the masks are up tonight, the two of them can’t speak openly about earth-shattering plot-moving topics without giving away their identities after all.

But it’s here that we the audience get a glimpse of Venti and Zhongli at their most plain and honest about each other:

“If knowledge were a form of power, one could even say that you’re a wielder of unlimited strength.”

“But when it comes to having a way with words, the notable bard is certainly one cut above the rest.”

 Zhongli is genuinely impressed that his ‘new friend’ can spin such an ‘unexceptional skill’ into an ‘unparalleled talent’ and he humbly downplays the claim. 

But Venti is absolutely correct. Having a photographic memory is an extremely powerful and valuable skill to have in the world of Teyvat if we recall the events of Sumeru, and the purging of knowledge from Irminsul. 

Zhongli likewise acknowledges Venti’s exceptional literary skills as a bard. We know now that fiction can be used to depict knowledge that has been erased from Irminsul, anything that can be recorded into song or ballad is ‘safe’ and therefore can be retrieved later.

For all their bickering, Venti and Zhongli recognize each other’s strengths in the effort to record Teyvat’s history, and preserve the ‘truths’ of the world.

It’s easy to see then why both of them would be so important and invaluable to each other as friends, and why they’ve stuck together for so long.

- 🏮 -

At the beginning of Lantern Rite Zhongli tells Traveler: “Setbacks are inevitable over the course of a long journey. If you wish to share what's troubling you, allow me to lend my ear. There is no need to shoulder all burdens by yourself.”

Through lore and gameplay we know that Zhongli and Venti are the last surviving members of the first iteration of the Seven.

Both have yet to personally reveal anything about their origins before the Archon War, only scattered hints that implicate Venti having strong connections to the God of Time Istaroth, and that Zhongli may not originally be from Teyvat.

But regardless of which theory you subscribe you, it’s clear both of them understand all too well the hardships of being on a long journey, and the importance of having someone there by your side to help shoulder those burdens.

[rey-jake-therapist]

Honestly at this stage, when celeborno appears i want him to have sexual chemistry with sauron too. It'll frustrate the she has a husband crowd. Like, it'll also piss them off the other half with queerness of celeborno and sauron. Let the three of them fuck. Veleborn had been paired in slash fics with haldir since the 2000's, if the great censorship purge didn't happen there might have been more slash fics of him than the het pairing with galadriel. TROP should embrace the lst everyone have a ship mentality.

Yes !

I want Celeborn to take a good look at Sauron and tell Gil-Galad and Elrond that he totally supports his wife, because he would have fallen for Sauron's fair form too.

He should also kiss Elrond platonically like Elrond platonically kissed Galadriel. Let them all kiss !

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Part I - Chapter I

Masterlist | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.8K

“The risk of love is loss and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love.” - Hilary Stanton Zunin

16 Telona

Kazi would never again visit the lighthouse with her sister.

The place where they peeled citrus-stars, watched oceanic storms, danced in puddles, played and laughed, and smacked the other when they argued. It was their sanctuary. And, of course, the ragged lighthouse overlooking Outlook Harbor preserved their culture—the eldest of Ceaian legend.

The legend of the dragons.

As legend claimed, a dragon guarded each Ceaian harbor, its fire a source of light for ships navigating the rugged surf and rocky cliffs. Without the dragons’ guidance, sailors would crash and drown, and the Ceaian population waste away.

When the last of the dragons died, lighthouses replaced their source of light and guidance. But a lighthouse could never replace the security and warmth of a dragon. 

A lighthouse could never replace the visceral reaction of seeing a dragon. Of knowing you were home.

Dominated by childlike wonder, Kazi decided, when she was six, that she would buy the old lighthouse and fix it up. Beside it, she would build an inn. And one day her inn—adorned with her sister’s flowers and succulents—would be the most lauded across all of Ceaia. 

For years the dream sustained her and her sister. She would run the inn and manage the finances, meanwhile her sister would oversee decorations and meal planning. Nothing else mattered. Except for a rowdy sailor here or there. But Kazi would handle them too. Because she would protect her sister. She would always protect her little sister.

And so those girls dreamt of their future and planned for endless happiness.

But life never cared much for dreams. 

Nowadays, Kazi tried to forget the lighthouse’s existence. It made it easier to ignore the ache in her heart and guilt in her mind. 

Slashing rain warmed her fingers as Kazi snapped the final window shut, securing the house from the onslaught of the torrential rainstorm. The sunroom’s windows—spanning the entirety of the wall—overlooked the rolling hills of Eluca’s endless jungle, the planet’s three moons hidden behind clouds pregnant with more rain.

Housing a small couch, four armchairs, a game table, and a handful of potted plants Daria fawned over, the sunroom was Kazi’s favorite place in the house. It boasted the best view of sunrises, and the best views of Eluca’s near-daily rainstorms. 

Tonight, the storm was the worst Kazi had seen since arriving on Eluca two months ago. It wasn’t an oceanic storm, but it was close enough. 

Thunder boomed, loud enough to rattle the windows. Rain harshened its upheaval; lightning spider-webbed chaotic rictuses across the blackened sky. 

Kazi started to smile—the awe and terror of raging storms a memory buried—but the muscle movement strained. Her half-smile fell away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since she last smiled. At least two months. Probably the day before the Purge—

“I met a man at the marketplace today.”

Kazi stiffened. From the corner of her eye, her sister approached the windows, hands clasped loosely before her stomach. A healthy distance—a meter—separated their bodies. Daria seemed to maintain the distance instinctively. Kazi both noted and despised it.

There was a time when Daria would sneak into her bed late at night. Usually scared from the storms, her sister sought refuge beneath her bed covers. She hadn’t minded. What else was a big sister for? 

Now, the distance was a physical phenomenon. Tangible; representative of the emotional distance built over the last decade. Kazi held the blame and responsibility. But she still craved the missing connection. The muffled laughter in the middle of the night; sneaky grins; warm hugs. 

Daria observed the lashing rain with a blasé countenance that belied her usual calculation. “He’s kind but also ambitious, and his financial situation is sound. I want you to meet him—”

“No.” Kazi crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve told you, repeatedly, that I won’t entertain arranged dates—”

“This one is good,” Daria interrupted, facing her. “Give him a chance—”

“I said no.”  Kazi kept her voice quiet and controlled, refusing to yell and risk waking Neyti. “I’m too busy with work and taking care of you—”

Daria recoiled. A flash of lightning emphasized the blush staining her cheeks. Kazi bit her tongue. Her sister was sensitive to any mention of her illness. 

“I only ask that you consider meeting him.” Daria straightened, her gentle poise sharpening, like a vibroblade sparking to life. “I’d like to see you married before I die.”

Kazi bit back her annoyed groan, opting for a glare. Currently, she had three goals, and marriage was not one of them. 

The first goal was treatment for her sister’s illness. It should have been simple to accomplish, and while she had found a healer specialized in palliative care, Daria’s symptoms were still ubiquitous and worrisome. Even now sweat beaded her sister’s forehead, and her fingers spasmed unintentionally. 

The problem laid with ineffective medicine, according to Healer Natasha’s most recent report. 

“As I’ve told you,” Kazi said slowly, “I’m not interested in wasting my time on arranged dates—”

“How are you not lonely?”

Kazi scoffed. “Loneliness is not a reason to get married.”

“Maybe not,” Daria said, “but you have no one to rely on. No parents. No friends. No husband.” 

A hollow sensation gaped in her chest but Kazi ignored it. 

Daria took her silence as permission to continue. “Marriage is a necessity in life. Humans desire companionship—women desire the stability a man can bring to our lives. We’re not meant to be alone.”

Kazi took a few seconds to organize her thoughts and counterarguments. After years with a mother who shared Daria’s sentiment, she was prepared for this specific debate. 

“Marriage isn’t something you can force between two people who don’t know one another,” Kazi started, forcibly calm. “Marriage should be based on love. Not desperation or settling out of loneliness. Marriage is about two people who realize they want to share life together. Who feel life is complete when the other is in it.”

Daria snorted. “That’s quite the idealistic notion of romance I wouldn’t expect from you.”

“It’s not idealistic—”

“But it is.” Daria quirked a manicured eyebrow. “Marriage is a pact to maintain the traditions and ideals of two families, and to implement those beliefs in a future generation. It’s more than just love.”

At the condescension in her sister’s tone, Kazi gritted her teeth. She wasn’t an idealist; she preferred realism as her chosen form of analysis. But love wasn’t an idealistic notion for hopeless romantics. She had read the stories and myths. Love was attainable. Maybe not for her, but it still existed. And she refused to settle for a marriage borne out of duty rather than respect and trust and emotional connection.

The argument represented the sisters’ different lines of thinking, and Kazi couldn’t help but wonder: if their father hadn’t died when they were so young and their mother imposed Reformist teachings on an impressionable Daria, would Daria have shared Kazi’s beliefs?  

Then again, Daria was the perfect mold she was trained to be: a dutiful wife. And nothing more.

“Think about Neyti,” Daria said. “She’s a child who needs stability in her life—who needs the stability a man can provide.”

Kazi sniffed. “I don’t need a man to provide stability to Neyti’s life. I can provide it.”

“I know you feel responsible for upholding your promise to her mother,” Daria placated, “but you need to think about this situation logically. Neyti needs a family. She needs two parents. She needs emotional support and love.”

“I can be her family.” Kazi frowned at her sister. “I can raise her. I can love her. I can take care of her.”

“Oh, Kazi.” Daria gave her a sympathetic look that itched. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes.”

“You have no emotional capacity for a child. You can’t take care of her the way she deserves to be taken care of. Not when you’re alone.”

Kazi resisted the urge to flinch, and instead, shifted her attention to the game table where a bedraggled stuffed dog laid. The toy belonged to a six-year-old girl—a girl shoved into her arms when she was fleeing Ceaia. A child who no longer spoke and remained an enigma she couldn’t figure out. Neyti. 

The second goal was to find Neyti suitable, loving parents. Parents who could raise the sweet child in an insecure world fraught with instability and fascism. However, the goal was proving difficult. 

Entering a child into a credible adoption center required extensive documentation. Medical records, education certificates, familial-history records. Kazi didn’t even know Neyti’s last name, much less have access to any of the required documents. 

Their first week on Eluca, she enrolled Neyti in the local primary school, and she secured baseline medical tests. The medical tests proved useful for Neyti’s therapy. Still, the adoption process was slow and arduous. 

Daria wasn’t aware of Neyti’s impending adoption. She believed Kazi was committed to raising Neyti herself. It was a secret Kazi wanted to maintain. Still, Daria’s concern for her lacking competence to care for Neyti hurt. 

“I have emotions, Daria.” Her voice was too strained and Kazi grimaced, clearing away the twinge of hurt. “I’m passionate, I feel things, I experience a wide range of emotions. Just because I don’t allow them to dictate my decisions doesn’t mean I’m unfeeling and emotionless.”

 “I never said you were.” Daria waved a dismissive hand. “All I’m saying is that your emotional capacity is not sustainable nor durable for a child. You work all day; you work late into the night. You aren’t physically around much for her, and you’re too aloof to provide her the emotional stability she needs. Have you ever considered why she still doesn’t speak?”

“She’s grieving—she lost her mother two months ago,” Kazi said disbelievingly. “She needs space to grieve, and I’m not going to force her to do something she finds solace in.”

“But have you considered the possibility that she doesn’t feel comfortable or safe with you to speak?” Kazi winced at the accusation but her sister wasn’t finished. “Neyti needs emotional support, which you can’t give if you’re not physically present.”

“This conversation is over.” Kazi uncrossed her arms, fisting her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. “I’m not entertaining a marriage for the sake of a false notion of stability.”

“It’s not a false notion,” Daria argued. “You may refuse to acknowledge it in yourself, Kazi, but I see it. I see your struggles, and I know that you need someone—”

“That’s enough.” She turned away from the windows. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my own wants. So don’t you dare try to pretend that you’re interested in securing me a marriage outside of your own personal goal of making me live up to Mama’s teachings.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do—”

“It is. Just because you failed to get married and have children, doesn’t mean I want that for myself.”

Daria flinched. Disbelief wrinkled her forehead, and for a long moment, she merely stared at Kazi, as if uncertain who stood before her.

“Every woman wants to be married and have children,” Daria finally said, securing her hurt behind a well-practiced mask. “It’s in our nature.”

“You’re delusional.” Kazi ignored Daria’s affronted glare. “Forget Mama’s teachings. They did nothing to help you, and she was wrong about most things.”

“Don’t disrespect the dead.”

“I didn’t respect her when she was alive. What’s the difference now?”

“Maybe Mama was right.” Daria sneered at her. “Your access to emotions died the day Papa did.”

Kazi opened her mouth—what to say, she wasn’t sure—but two loud knocks on the front door interrupted. A signal. It was a reminder of her third and final goal: to survive the rebel network.

Relations with the rebel network were new and difficult to navigate. Kazi was indebted to them. She owed them her life—and Daria and Neyti’s lives—and for that reason, she served the network’s needs. However, the network wasn’t a benevolent entity, and being indebted to its cause rattled Kazi more than she liked to admit. 

Typically, she avoided debts. They forced her into a compromising position, allowing someone the opportunity to control her. She preferred self-reliance to kindness, and when she did indebt herself, she always paid it back quickly. 

Her father believed it a question of honor and a true demonstration of character. Her mother took a more cynical approach: “To be in someone’s debt is to give them power over you,” she once told Kazi. “Only fools put themselves in such situations.”

Sometimes she wondered how her mother would have responded to the Purge. Would the Ennari matriarch humble her obstinance to secure a means for survival? 

Whatever her mother would have decided didn’t matter. Kazi sought the network’s aid, and now she owed them. So far, she had met Eluca’s five rebels, the cohort a tight-knit group. It was one of many belonging to the larger network slowly establishing a presence in the Outer Rim. 

Kazi rarely interacted within the cohort, receiving orders from Fehr or Bash, the network’s main contacts, and acted alone. But that morning, she received a comm from Fehr asking her to join an unexpected meeting. The message left her unsettled, and her arrival at the abandoned warehouse used for most meetings heightened her consternation. 

Some days, like that morning, she questioned if she was walking into a trap, wary of Imperial stormtroopers posed for her capture. Today, only the five other rebels were present. 

“My contact has informed me that three men want to establish a safehouse out of reach of the Empire,” Fehr said. A human woman at least twenty years Kazi’s senior and the owner of one of Hollow Town’s highest employed farms, Fehr preferred brusqueness to political coyness. It was something Kazi appreciated. “Their operations will be separate from ours.”

Carinthia, a data courier for Moff Harpy of Veridian Sector and a skilled identification and chip saboteur, narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “How do you mean?” 

“These men will be running rescue-and-relocate missions.” Fehr glanced across the five other members. “They’re former employees of the Empire.”  

Kazi pursed her lips, noting the discomfort of those around her. Bash, Head Treasurer of Eluca’s national bank and a well-respected member of the Elucan government, furrowed his brows. Lore and Sparks, married pilots, shared a skeptical look.

“Former employees of the Empire can’t be trusted,” Carinthia argued, her skin eerily pale in the warehouse’s shadows.

“We trust you,” Lore said casually.

Carinthia sneered. “I never worked for the Empire—”

“But your family—”

“Is of no importance.” Carinthia swiped her hand through the air. “How do we know we can trust these men?”

“The more important question is,” Kazi interrupted, irritated by Fehr’s lack of transparency, “who are these men? You say they’re former employees, but where did they work?”

“Former intelligence workers would be nice to have,” Sparks said. Lore nodded her agreement.

Fehr took a deep breath, black eyes settling on Kazi. “These men are former soldiers.”

Kazi tensed, an unwelcome burst of panic clogging the back of her throat. Fehr wouldn’t risk the dangers of— 

“They’re clones.”

In the silence that followed Fehr’s declaration, Kazi forced herself not to react. She bit her tongue until it hurt, controlling her features and ordering her panic to calm the fuck down. She could not appear incompetent nor afraid. 

But the panic in her chest was as sharp as an electric shock. Simultaneously heart-stopping and heart-quickening. 

“Clones are loyal to the Empire,” Bash said diplomatically. 

A silky voice imbued with a calm that complimented Fehr’s usual bluntness, Bash was a difficult person to read. With bronze skin and cunning silver eyes, he and Fehr were the sole rebels indigenous to Eluca. His position within the planetary government, as well as his contacts within the rebel network, made him the most important and powerful member of the cohort. 

To learn that Bash wasn’t aware of the clones’ arrival intrigued Kazi. Similar to the Empire’s backstabbing politicking, it seemed the rebel network didn’t share all their information with each of its contacts. Kazi tucked away the information. 

“We can’t trust them,” Bash continued.

“Be reasonable, Fehr,” Carinthia said, her smile wan. “Clone allegiance is to whichever government is in control.”

Fehr straightened, and though her tone was collected, it was lined with an edge that could cut. “These men have denounced their allegiances—”

“And their allegiances could switch again.” Sparks shook his head. Even the adventurous pilot was hesitant. “If you need an example: look at the Republic.”

Agreement swept through the small group. But Fehr was staunch in her decision. 

“The clones are operating a rescue-and-relocate mission. Our paths will rarely cross, and they won’t be working planetside.” Fehr stared them down, her glare unapologetic. 

Shortly after, the meeting dissolved. Kazi made to leave but Fehr motioned for her and Carinthia to stay, the latter throwing a perplexed look at Kazi. The moment Bash left, his eyes narrowed in skepticism, Fehr faced the two women.  

“There’s more about the clones that I didn’t share with the cohort,” Fehr said. “The clones will be staying planetside.”

To her annoyance, Kazi noticed Carinthia studying her. They were similar in age, and yet their backgrounds were vastly different. Carinthia hailed from a wealthy family that lived in the Inner Rim, and her shrewd personality bordered conniving. 

“They need somewhere spacious to make their base. Somewhere far enough away from the city where they can easily hide.” Fehr squared her shoulders and stared Kazi in the eye. “I offered the men the basement.”

Kazi blinked, uncertain if she had heard correctly. 

“The basement…” Her voice hitched and she cleared her throat. “You want the clones to stay in the basement. At the house where I’m living.”

Fehr nodded.

Her hands started to tremble and Kazi clenched her jaw. Clenched it so hard she thought it might break. 

“The clones are the reason I’m on this damned planet, Fehr.” The strain in her voice was palpable but she didn’t care. Fehr was the sole rebel she considered somewhat benevolent, and this new information was a betrayal she wasn’t prepared for. “Have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t,” Fehr said calmly. Too calmly. “But these men deserted. They don’t serve the Empire and they need a place to stay. I considered one of the apartments in town but people will be curious and could start talking. The house is an ideal location.”

The house, not your house. 

Because the house didn’t belong to Kazi. It belonged to Fehr who had gifted it to her when she first arrived on Eluca, homeless and penniless. 

The memory still rankled her. Her pride cringed at her forced reliance on another person. Her chagrin was further heightened by her financial helplessness. Years of frugality, investments, and savings were made obsolete by the rise of the Empire. 

“It’s not that awful, Kazi,” Carinthia said. “The house is large. Large enough for you three to survive cohabitation with a few clones.”

Before Kazi could respond, Fehr raised her hand. “I know your history with the clones isn’t ideal. And if you’re uncomfortable—” Carinthia released a derisive scoff that had Kazi tensing. Fehr shot the younger woman a hard look. “If it’s too much, I can look at other locations. But the basement—”

“Is ideal,” Carinthia cut in. “It’s large enough, and it connects to the communications tower. I assume that’s a necessity for them.” Carinthia twirled a crimson curl around a finger, her expression contemplative. “Eluca’s proximity to a well-plotted hyperlane, and the surgent of Imperial military bases across Veridian Sector and the Outer Rim, at large, make this planet the most effective base.”

Fehr nodded, her attention returning to a still-silent Kazi. “It’s your choice.”

Except it wasn’t. Not really. The house wasn’t even in her name—an attempt to protect her sister and Neyti. To prevent Imperial officials looking into their sudden immigration and ambiguous history. 

It was an older yet well-maintained home settled in a forgotten neighborhood five kilometers from Hollow’s Town. The neighborhood stood empty except for two other houses located a kilometer away. 

Built a century prior in the midst of a planetary civil war, the basement served as a bomb shelter. One of four designated for the neighborhood. Fortified by duracrete and buried deep in Eluca’s soil, the basement housed five bedrooms with ten bunks each, three refreshers equipped with full amenities, and a war room dedicated to military strategy. The war room was still wired to the communication tower in the capital. The only communication tower available for public use in Veridian Sector with consistent and reliable access to the Mid and Inner Rims. 

Kazi had visited the basement once. The darkness, and the knowledge that hundreds of tons of dirt could easily bury her, convinced her never to return. It was the ideal location for rescue-and-relocate missions. Which irked her.

“It’s fine.” She clasped her hands behind her back. She was indebted to Fehr, anyway. “We can make it work.”

Three more knocks, rapid and quieter, followed the first two. The completion of the signal. Kazi followed Daria through the kitchen and toward the front door, her body tensed to a point of pain. Anxiety itched her skin, like thousands of ants crawling along her spine and burrowing in her hair. 

She opened the door and then retreated a safe distance. Fehr stepped into the small entryway. Behind her, three males followed. Dark gray ponchos hid their upper bodies and hoods cast their faces in shadows. 

Kazi schooled her features into insouciance. One of the few benefits of etiquette lessons: she could control her expression. For the most part. 

Rain frizzed Fehr’s ebony hair and the older woman patted her braids, nodding at Kazi. She scanned the kitchen behind the two sisters. “Is Neyti—”

“Asleep.” Her tone was curt and she ignored Daria’s disapproving scowl. 

The older woman chuckled. “School must have been exhausting if she can sleep in this weather.”

“The thunder was louder back—” Well, it didn’t matter. 

Silence ensued, eclipsed by the echoing thunder and the rain from the clones’ ponchos dripping onto the hardwood floor. Ever the dutiful host, Daria stepped forward, her smile practiced kindness and warmth. 

The ease in her sister’s friendliness was a point of jealousy for Kazi. Growing up, she yearned to exude the same gentleness Daria effortlessly managed. She never perfected it. 

“Welcome,” Daria said. She gestured to Kazi. “We made up three of the beds downstairs and stocked the fridge with extra food.”

It was a lie. Kazi didn’t shop for the food—only Daria—and she didn’t make the beds. She lugged the sheets and pillow cases from the upstairs closet to the basement but she refused to make a bed for a grown adult. 

The clone to the left stepped forward and removed his hood. Beneath the dimmed lights in the entryway his skin was dark brown and his eyes even darker. A white scar threaded itself from his temple to his cheek. Black hair was trimmed precisely, long enough to run a hand through. He looked to be a year or two older than Kazi. Possibly twenty-eight.

“That was generous of you,” the clone said. He gestured to the two other clones. “We’re grateful for this.”

A blush darkened Daria’s cheeks and Kazi almost rolled her eyes. Her sister extended her hand and the clone accepted it. “I’m Daria, and this is my sister, Kazi.”

Kazi didn’t step forward; she didn’t offer her hand. She merely nodded. The clone assessed her for a moment, his eyes flitting from her face to Daria’s, probably noting their differences. 

Trained for society, Daria carried herself with an easy elegance. Her hair was honeyed and loosely curled. The green of her eyes was darker than the jungle after a rain shower. Hours gardening over the years had softened the curves of her body.

Unlike her sister, years of swimming left Kazi with an athletic and toned build. A body type undesired by high society Ceaian males, as she was told, repeatedly, by her instructors. 

And even though she attended the same finishing classes as Daria, she never mastered her sister’s posh demeanor. She was well-mannered and polite, but she spoke with a bluntness considered too judgmental, further heightened by the darkness of her eyes with their slashes of hazel. 

“Like a bird of prey,” her instructor for Poise and Deportment once complained to her mother.

Her mother considered her with a critical eye, and Kazi steeled herself. “I would counter: sunlight in a meadow.”  

It was one of the rare times her mother complimented her, and it had stuck with her the last seven years. To this day, her eyes remained her favorite feature.

A throat cleared and Fehr glanced at her chrono. “Kazi, Daria, let me introduce you to former commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox.” 

Kazi’s heart faltered. 

Commanders. The clones weren’t just soldiers. They were fucking commanders.

She shot Fehr a baleful glare. The older woman’s gaze was already on her face, and imperceptibly, she dipped her chin, acknowledgement and confirmation of Kazi’s unspoken accusation. 

The woman had known all along the clones were former commanders. She had known and had refused to mention it. 

If the situation hadn’t affected her life, Kazi would have admired Fehr’s sly play. Instead, she ignored the woman, fisting her hands tightly behind her back to hide their trembling.

The two other clones removed their ponchos. Kazi tried not to stare but the rumors were true. They were identical. Except for a few distinctive traits.

The one on the right—Commander Fox—bore a scar on his chin; his hair was similarly styled to Commander Cody’s. At her perusal, the clone arched a brow. His eyes swept across her face, in both assessment and curiosity. 

She moved her gaze to the last one. Commander Wolffe.  

He was observing her with a neutrally-controlled countenance. Narrowed eyes. Rigid shoulders. Calculated expression. 

Kazi recognized the look in his face—the subtle wariness and hardened reticence. It was the same shrewdness she practiced. One she relied on to determine genuine from disingenuous; trustworthy from unreliable. 

Emphasizing the guarded calculation in his gaze was a stark white scar. Like a bolt of lightning, it seared the skin above his right eye and slashed down to his cheek. Whatever had torn his skin must have ruined his eye, for a silver cybernetic sat in his socket.

“I have business to attend to,” Fehr said, drawing Kazi’s attention away from her analysis. The lack of explanation and the urgency in Fehr’s tone warned Kazi the ‘business’ was network-related.

Once the darkness of night swallowed Fehr’s form, Daria showed the clones to the basement. Surreptitiously hidden behind a white bookcase bereft of personable touches other than a dragon figurine and a few succulents Daria had purchased the last few weeks, the staircase to the basement was dimly lit by a buttery-yellow light. The stairs descended into a blackness thicker than the ocean’s surface on a moonless night.

Few words were exchanged. Kazi didn’t bother with false pleasantries, she left it to Daria, and soon the basement door swung back in place. The bookcase rested snugly against the white wall. Even the most observant soldier would overlook the entrance’s location.

“They seem…nice,” Daria said, shifting the pot of a vibrant blue succulent. “You could have been more inviting.”

“Why?” Kazi gave her sister a condescending smile. “Are you wanting to match me with one of them?” 

“Kazi.” Daria released an exasperated sigh. “I’m trying to help you prepare—”

“I don’t need your help. And I certainly don’t want it.” 

“Fine.” Dabbing at her forehead, Daria sniffed. “I’m sorry for caring.”

Kazi snorted. “Caring? Is that what you call this nagging?”

“I do care.” Daria started to tremble. “I have always cared and—” She cut off, pressing a palm to her temple, her face screwed in pain.

Kazi reached for Daria’s shoulder, her stomach dipping with concern. But her sister backed away. The dismissal silent yet resoundingly loud. Louder than the thunder rattling the old windowpanes. Her hand fell to her side; she tried to ignore the guilt bittering her mouth. 

Lifting her chin, Daria smoothed the fabric of her pale purple dress. She looked Kazi over once, disappointment thinning her lips, and then made her way toward the staircase opposite the bookcase. The old stairs creaked beneath her labored pace.

The moment her sister’s door clicked shut, Kazi collapsed on the bottom step, rubbing her temples. 

She didn’t want the clones here. Hell, she didn’t want to be here. On this planet. In this fucking house.

It was too much. 

Daria’s disease.

Neyti’s adoption.

Spying for the network.

Three clone commanders.

A disappointment. Incompetent. Indebted. Possibly endangered.

She looked out the kitchen windows toward a clearing sky. Eluca’s three moons peeked through the clouds like a child peering through a curtain. The urge to run—to ignore all of her problems, to avoid the responsibility—hit her. 

But she couldn’t run. Not this time. 

Masterlist | Chapter 2

A/N: Pronunciations:

Kazi Ennari: kah-zee ; uh-nar-ee Daria: dar-ee-uh  Neyti: nay-tea Fehr: fare Eluca: eh-look-ah (emphasis on first syllable)  Ceaia: say-ee-uh (emphasis on second syllable)

[zaebeecee]

Drowning in Stardust

🦌 RadioDustTober: Short Story Edition 🕷️

Day 09: Full Moon

Non canon-compliant (pre-slash)

CWs: A blatant disregard for one’s own safety, cannibalism, surprise! Fluff!

They say the Radio Demon takes long walks on nights when the moon in Pride is full, and that on those nights, it isn’t safe to be outside. Angel Dust doesn’t really know who (or what) the Radio Demon is, but he damn sure wants to see.

Word count: 1667

•••

Angel Dust didn’t really listen to the radio. He wasn’t sure why—it wasn’t like he didn’t like music, after all, and dancing was one of his favorite pastimes no matter how hard Valentino was attempting to ruin it for him—but even when he was alive, he didn’t really… like it very much. And of course, once he arrived in Hell, it had only taken one warning that the airwaves were full of screams of the Damned for him to decide that maybe radio wasn’t for him down here, either.

There was also the question of how he managed to work directly under a member of the Vees for as long as he had and not heard of the Radio Demon, but the simplest answer for that was the fact that Angel never listened when Vox spoke, like… ever. That went double for when he was ranting. If Angel really concentrated, he thought he could remember some comment about ‘that amplitude modulated bitch-ass sack of shit’; maybe that was who Vox had been talking about?

In any case, even Angel had noticed the rumors about the Radio Demon’s disappearance and possible death during an extermination, a sentence that mostly meant nothing to him and quickly went forgotten after the stress of yet another purge had passed. And then, seven years later, Angel hadn’t been able to miss the rumors about his return.

That was just about the last straw for Angel, so once he was certain Val was in a blackout stupor and wouldn’t notice if he was gone for several hours, Angel went around VoxTek to mingle with some of the night crew and see what he could pick up. Nobody was overly willing to talk about the Radio Demon in such close proximity to Vox, and Angel couldn’t help noticing the way they spoke about this strange and apparently very dangerous entity like he could be watching them at that exact moment from any shadow he chose. They said he ate other overlords and consumed their souls but didn’t take their territory because he just ate them for fun; they said he had taken Vox’s eye and bent his antenna; they said that there was no way the Radio Demon was really a Sinner, because it was impossible that something so evil could ever have been human.

All of that was more than enough for Angel to decide that he definitely wanted to see this fucker, and when he heard someone say that he liked to wander around looking for his next meal when the moon was full, Angel thought he himself might take a little walk.

As he stepped out of VoxTek and into the streets of the Lust District, Angel had to wonder how the fuck he had never noticed any of this before. Usually the streets were crawling with people during the night, especially around the clubs, but now… Pentagram City felt like a ghost town, everything so oddly silent and empty. Angel had to wonder… had he just somehow instinctually known not to go out during the full moon? Was that why he had never seen the city like this before?

Angel set off in search of any sort of activity, not really thinking about which turns he took or which streets he followed, and it wasn’t too terribly long before he heard screaming a couple of blocks over. Perking up slightly—and well aware that if everyone else was right, this could get him completely devoured—Angel jumped up onto a car, then onto an awning, quickly springing up fire escapes and wide window sills to the top of a building. He then ran across the roof, hopping deftly across alleyways before skidding to a halt at the edge of a building that dropped off onto a wide street in the Greed District.

There was a Sinner running down the street, screaming apologies in a broken and terrified voice, and Angel could see how badly he was crying as he stumbled over the debris and trash and body parts that tended to litter the streets of Pentagram City. He quickly lost interest as he saw what was following him, however.

The Sinner in pursuit was fucking huge, all red and black with spindly limbs and an enormous, yellow-toothed grin stitched shut with glowing green thread. It was crawling, chasing the terrified man at a pace that seemed almost playful and leisurely. The game seemed to be over, though, because as Angel watched the giant Sinner grabbed its pray and stood up right in front of where the spider stood, watching. The monster stood between Angel and the moon, deer-like antlers stretching out against the giant red orb like gnarled tree branches as it opened its mouth to reveal just how huge and sharp those teeth were, stretching the green thread until it looked like it might snap. It dropped its pray into its mouth, then bit down hard, the other man’s scream silenced instantly with a sharp snap and a crunch.

Angel couldn’t stop staring. It was terrifying, yes—he was pretty sure he had never seen anything to scary in his life, at least not this close—but it was also fascinating. He must have made some kind of a noise, because suddenly, that horrifying face pivoted on a stitched-up neck that bent in way too many places to be normal and Angel suddenly found himself trapped under the gaze of enormous red radio dials spinning wildly against deep, endless black sclera.

The Radio Demon—because that was who this had to be, he couldn’t possibly be anything else—grabbed the edge of the building with enormous clawed hands and leaned in until that grinning and horrific face was right in front of Angel. The spider cursed at both the sudden proximity and the sudden, almost overpowering stench of rot and blood and raw meat that seemed to pour from the Radio Demon’s mouth in a cloud so thick he could practically feel it.

The Radio Demon opened his mouth and he said something, but it was so heavily drenched in the sounds of radio static that Angel couldn’t understand a word of it. “Hi,” Angel said slowly, holding up two hands and curling his fingers to wave while placing two more hands against his tit fluff. “I’m Angel Dust. You must be the Radio Demon.”

If a radio could sound confused, the giant Sinner managed it, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. He said something else and raised one hand, his finger pointed at Angel. Angel raised an eyebrow and reached out, grabbing his finger and shaking it like he would have shaken someone’s hand during business with the family.

The Radio Demon looked startled, pulling his finger back sharply; Angel had nothing to thank but his reflexes for the fact that the claw didn’t slice his entire hand off. “Look, Smiles, I ain’t got no fuckin’ clue what you’re sayin’,” Angel said, putting his hands on his waist. “I don’t speak channel spacing.”

Those eyes narrowed slowly but sharply, then the body began morphing and shrinking. The Radio Demon pulled himself onto the roof as he grew smaller, straightening up into far better posture than he had in his larger form. When he settled and refocused on Angel with eyes no longer radio dials, but instead red on red that glowed in the darkness, Angel reevaluated him somewhat. He wasn’t exactly what Angel would call handsome—as a matter of fact, with those teeth and those eyes and the unnatural bend of those joints, he would go so far as to say he simply looked horrifying and maybe kind of gross—but there was something so entrancing about his vileness that Angel would almost call him beautiful.

The Radio Demon straightened up and summoned forth a staff from nothingness, red and topped with an old microphone, that he spun in one hand as his other rose to adjust his monocle. “I must admit, this is a new phenomenon, my good fellow,” he said in a voice that sounded as though it was coming from a radio and so classically transatlantic that Angel could practically hear him cheerfully reading off lists of businessmen who had recently flung themselves from their office windows in the wake of the great stock market crash. “Do you, perhaps, have a death wish? I suppose I could grant that for you, if you really want.”

“No thanks,” Angel said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Just wanted to see what all this Radio Demon fuss was about.”

“…I see.” The overlord raised a skeptical eyebrow. “…very well! I’ll bite, figuratively speaking—” his grin widened to bear his teeth “—what, precisely, do you mean?”

“I dunno. I just managed to miss all the hype about you before you disappeared,” Angel said with a shrug. “And my boss’s boss was so pissed that you came back I had to know what could get under his screen protector so bad.”

“…your boss’s boss?”

“Vox.”

The radio noises pitched up in a brief squeal that quickly returned to what seemed to be their usual hum. “You work for the Vees.”

“I guess,” Angel said. “I do porn. VoxTek’s got the best pay for that.”

“You— oh. Angel Dust. Yes, I have heard of you.” The Radio Demon hesitated, almost like he was at a loss; Angel could only assume he wasn’t used to being either surprised or confused. “…if you don’t leave, I am going to eat you. I’m still hunting, after all.”

“Noted. Just wanted to check shit out.” Angel turned and raised one hand to wave over his shoulder. “Later, cutie.”

The radio noises were definitely confused now, but throwing people off had always been Angel’s best defense, so it was good to know it still worked for him. And he absolutely had every intention of running into the Radio Demon again, even if it was just to confuse him some more.

He was kinda cute when he was perplexed.

•••

[illuminatedquill]

Sabine Wren x Ahsoka Tano

His Life In Your Hands

Story Summary: In the early days of her Jedi training, Sabine struggles using Ezra’s lightsaber. Ahsoka comes to realize why - and recognizes the danger it represents to her Padawan’s future as a Jedi.

"Strike."

Sabine moved forward, the green-white blade of her lightsaber coming down in an overhead slash.

It met with the pure white blade of one of Ahsoka's lightsabers; she nodded in approval. "Parry."

Her other lightsaber swept forward, aiming for Sabine's mid-section. The younger woman stepped back and blocked the move - barely. The white blade clashed against the green-white in clumsy fashion with a violent hiss.

Ahsoka saw Sabine's teeth clench in aggravation, straining to maintain the position.

The Jedi Knight noted the trembling in her Padawan's arms. Muscle fatigue, she realized. Not unusual after a lightsaber sparring session, but they hadn't even gone ten minutes.

Ahsoka closed down her lightsabers. "That's enough for today," she declared.

Sabine, face shiny with sweat, blinked in disbelief before shutting down her own. "That's it? That was so short!"

They were in Ahsoka's T6 shuttle, currently travelling between worlds. The sparring room, customary to all Jedi shuttlecraft, was brightly lit and clean with soft padding on the floors and walls. It was well stocked with everything a Jedi would need for training exercises; no small feat, especially after the Empire's purge.

It would never replace the Jedi Temple, but it was more than up to the task.

And, more importantly, it had served as Ahsoka's home for quite some time.

Huyang, Ahsoka's friend and droid, stood in a corner, observing the training. "You are improving, Lady Wren," said the droid. "That was almost ten minutes this time."

Sabine wiped the sweat from her brow. "Oh," she muttered, embarrassment coloring her tone. "That long, huh."

"It's progress," encouraged Ahsoka. "But you won't get much farther if you don't master that lightsaber."

Sabine paused and looked down at the lightsaber in her grip. Through the Force, Ahsoka could sense the usual tumultuous swirl of emotions her Padawan felt whenever she contemplated the weapon.

Oh, more importantly, who gave it to her.

"Is it still heavy?" asked Ahsoka.

"Yeah," Sabine replied, frustrated. "It comes and it goes, though. Feels light as a feather some days; others it feels like I'm dragging it through water."

Her padawan's grip tightened. "It shouldn't be. I don't understand. I've used it before."

"Briefly," reminded Ahsoka. "But now you are using it full time in your own training as a Jedi."

"And it's not mine," muttered Sabine. "It's Ezra's."

Ah, thought Ahsoka. That might be the problem.

"He gave it to you, Sabine," Ahsoka replied. "It's yours now. Do you understand what that means?"

Her padawan was uncharacteristically quiet, still contemplating the weapon. "A Jedi's weapon is their life," Sabine finally said.

She looked up at her master. "Ezra . . . gave me his life."

Ahsoka nodded. "It's rare for a Jedi to give away their lightsaber."

"How rare?"

Ahsoka looked to Huyang. The droid, with all his years of Jedi knowledge and history perserved in his memory banks, shook his head. "You know well as I do, Lady Tano. Rumors, here and there. But there was only one officially recorded in recent history until Ezra Bridger."

Ahsoka looked away. Anakin.

"So, it's an exclusive club then," said Sabine. "Great. No pressure." She seemingly hadn't noticed her master's sudden discomfort.

Ahsoka shook herself free of old memories. Time to focus on the now.

"My belief, Sabine, is that your struggles with the lightsaber stem from not being in tune with your feelings."

Sabine frowned. "You mean just like with the darksaber?"

"Yes. There is something you must face within yourself in order to sync with the kyber crystal inside. An emotional block that must be lifted." Ahsoka searched her padawan's eyes, wondering . . .

"What? You mean my feelings for Ezra?" Sabine asked, her tone incredulous.

Ahsoka felt her heart sink. There it is.

"Your words, not mine," replied Ahsoka. "Sleep on it tonight and have an answer for me in the morning."

My feelings for Ezra. Even now the words bounced around in her head, making her cringe with each resurgence of the statement.

Why had she said that? Sabine tossed in her bunk, exhausted after another day's practice but still unable to fall asleep.

"He's Ezra," she muttered out loud. "What else is there to say? Why is that making it hard to wield his lightsaber?"

"Because you have not yet accepted the gift he has given you," said a voice from the doorway.

Sabine jerked at the voice. It was Huyang, standing there with his arms clasped behind his back.

"Huyang," she breathed. "Didn't the Jedi give you proper etiquette programming? You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I have been knocking on your door for the past minute," replied Huyang, wryly. "Your mutterings seem to have blocked out the noise."

Sabine winced; rubbing at the back of her neck to cover the embarrassment, she motioned for the droid to enter. "Well, come on in, then."

"Thank you." The droid walked over to her desk and sat on the chair there.

Sabine moved to an upright sitting position to properly face the droid. "Huyang, what did you mean by that? That I haven't properly accepted Ezra's gift?"

"It is an enormous act for a Jedi to trust their life with someone else. You know this."

"I think I've used his lightsaber fairly well," Sabine pointed out.

Huyang shook his head. "I am not speaking of the physical weapon. I am speaking of what it represents. Ezra put his life in your hands. It is yours now."

The droid leaned forward. "It is a huge and sacred responsibility. And one that I believe you are struggling with."

Sabine mused on that. "And why am I struggling with it?"

"You tell me, Lady Wren."

Sabine reached over and grabbed the lightsaber from her desk. She turned the weapon over in her hands, taking in every detail, feeling its weight and its history.

Feeling its owner; all the care and effort he put into making it.

She smiled, despite her heart aching. Ezra's presence was all over the lightsaber and it felt like seeing her old friend again.

Finally, she replied, "I'm struggling because . . . I don't know if I'm equal to it. What he gave me."

"Precisely," Huyang agreed.

"And what do you think, Huyang? Am I worthy to wield it?"

Huyang considered her for a moment, before saying, "I do not believe Ezra would have given his lightsaber to you, otherwise. There was no one else. He placed his faith in you to finish what he started, above any one else."

"His life in my hands," murmured Sabine. She was finally starting to appreciate what Ezra had done for her; what he had given her.

"You know, it almost sounds romantic," she said.

There was a long pause from Huyang before he spoke again. "In a way . . . it is, Lady Wren."

She almost dropped the lightsaber. "What, really? I thought Jedi were forbidden to have relationships?"

"Not exactly," Huyang replied. "Attachment was forbidden for a Jedi; they must have the clarity of judgment in order to make the right decision, after all."

"But they couldn't get married. Or have romantic relationships."

"That is correct, Lady Wren."

Sabine said, thoughtfully, "But that was with the old Jedi Order. We're building something new."

"I . . . suppose."

"So the old rules don't necessarily apply anymore. I mean, Kanan and Hera had a kid."

"That is true. I cannot say for certain how a new Jedi Order would operate. I can only tell you what came before."

Sabine ran her hand over the lightsaber again. "Thanks, Huyang. This talk really helped me sort some things out."

"Of course, Lady Wren. I shall see you tomorrow morning." The droid departed, leaving Sabine alone with her thoughts.

"Your life in my hands, Ezra Bridger," she said, quietly. Raising the lightsaber in front of her, she ignited it, basking in the glow from the emerald blade.

A romantic gesture, she thought. And then you disappeared right afterwards.

My feelings for Ezra.

The weapon grew lighter in her hands. She blinked and then said it aloud, "My feelings for Ezra."

Even lighter. She blinked and then closed down the blade.

In the darkness, she felt her cheeks warm. Is that really it?

She held the hilt up and stared at it for a few moments.

Then, quietly, she said, "Well, you're the only one who will hear it."

And she said three words, then re-ignited the lightsaber. The emerald blade sang and it felt light as a feather.

Sabine smiled in the dark.

Ahsoka noted the improvement immediately in the next day's practice session. There was a confidence in Sabine's movements and a surety in her strikes and parries that was absent before. And the lightsaber blade seemed much lighter in her padawan's hands.

But, for whatever reason, that made her uneasy. Huyang had filled her in on his conversation with Sabine the night prior; she had not been pleased at the direction it had taken.

After an hour, Ahsoka called for a break. "You're handling it much better today," she reported. "I suppose you've worked through your block?"

"I have," said Sabine. She stood straight up and looked her master in the eyes.

"And what is your answer?"

"I love Ezra," Sabine replied, matter-of-fact.

Ahsoka frowned. It was the truth - it rang clearly with the clarity of a rung bell; but it wasn't the whole truth. Ahsoka sensed that her padawan's feelings for Ezra ran much deeper than she even knew.

But it was a good step forward that Sabine was at least acknowledging it.

Yet it could also be a step in the wrong direction; Ahsoka knew how easily even a fully trained Jedi Knight could lose their way.

I know it all too well.

"Sabine," she said, hesitantly. "Being a Jedi will be a full-time commitment. I need to know that you'll be able to do it . . . without the fear of losing what you cherish most."

Her padawan was still, her face composed to a neutral mask - but Ahsoka could sense the tumultuous swirl of emotions that represented Sabine's usual state sharpen into a dangerous sort of clarity.

"That won't be a problem," declared Sabine. "Ezra gave me his life. I will protect it." Her eyes burned as she finished, "No matter the cost."

Ahsoka glanced at Huyang. The droid shared a pensive look with her.

Something to keep an eye on for the future, she thought.

But that was the future. She needed to focus on the now and ensure Sabine didn't go down the same road as Anakin did.

Or, at least, she privately amended, I will try. Nothing was certain.

Ahsoka nodded at Sabine. "Very well. Raise your blade, Padawan. Let us move on to the next lesson."

[coolbeanzeaglbones]

Who starts more fanfics when she knows she's in over her head? Me! Who is writing a murder mystery fanfic about the Aquabats? Me! Me! Me!

The cops are a bit useless. In a world of heroes, they always call upon them to do their job. That's how the Aquabats got stuck looking around for evidence for a mass murder case.

Ricky would usually stay in the battletram, as would Crash while the others would look around the bloody crime scenes for evidence.

This murder happened in the alleyway, the woman’s guts were strewn about her body, cops taking down random things, waiting for the heroes.

Right on cue, the other three, Jimmy, the commander and Eaglebones walked into the alleyway.

The commander turned away, this was the most grizzly one yet. Eaglebones tried to wear an okay face, but Jimmy could tell he was internally screaming.

The police chief crossed over to the, “Aquabats, thank goodness you're here.” The commander sounded tired, “Yeah, yeah, Jimmy scan the area.”

Jimmy obliged and began to do what they had done every time they were called to one of these scenes. The commander would look for clues, sometimes just staring at stuff. Eaglebones would actually be trying to figure out what happened, as he hated doing this because it “felt evil” to be there.

But this time was a bit different. The commander was talking with the chief, normally what Eaglebones would do, “So there's no cameras?”

“No, we don't even know who the victim is, she didn't have any identification on her. We're going to do DNA testing.”

“Uh-huh uh Bones, what are you doing?”

Eaglebones looked like he was having a conversation with the wall, “Her name is was, sorry, Leslie Templar and she was walking home when he attacked.” Jimmy looked concerned, “There's no one there, kid.”

“Not a kid,” he went up to the commander, “okay, so, can you go out into the sidewalk?”

The commander did so and went to walk past the alley, “Okay, so, she was grabbed,” he grabbed the commander by the back of his shirt and dragged him into the alleyway, keeping a hand over his mouth, “up to the wall,” he kept glancing back at the opposite wall as if he was looking at someone, “and before she could scream,” he did a slashing down motion, “neck slash,” let go of the commander and mimed throwing him to the ground, “and you know what happens next.”

The cops were staring at him, “Did you see his face?”

Silence.

“He was wearing a Purge mask, okay, and are you sure it was a linoleum ripper?”

Jimmy looked concerned, but the cop wrote down what he was saying.

As the cops were busy, they slowly inched out of the alley and ran down the street back to the battletram. Jimmy was starting to be concerned for his two friends.

They hadn't been sleeping that well because of nightmares of the killer and the corpses and anxiety of ‘what if the killer comes to the battletram and murders us?’

Yeah, wasn't fun. Luckily, Crash and Ricky were blissfully oblivious to the severity of the situation.

It was the middle of the night when they were called, so the other two were asleep. They quietly slipped into the battletram, the warmth of the heating system washing over them and the cold being replaced with overwhelming tiredness, “How much sleep have you two gotten over the last week?”

Eaglebones laughed a bit, “Sleep? Oh, that friend is wandering over the hills in the distance. Just out of reach.”

“What?”

“I'm fucking tired, Jimmy.” Jimmy recoiled at the tenseness of Eaglebones’ voice. The commander giggled. He got very giggly when he was really exhausted, “Wandering over the hill.” He got out through fits of laughter.

Jimmy gazed at the two, who were now both giggling like school girls, “You guys okay.”

The both of them stopped for a second before just saying, “No.” Unanimously and starting to laugh once more.

Jimmy already had a plan in his mind.

“You guys want some water?”

He didn't wait for an answer, he just grabbed both of them but the arm and led them to the kitchen. He was going to drug them into sleep.

I know I know, that's totally a garbage move, but Jimmy didn't know what to do. So he just gave them some water that had sedatives in it and waited for them to get sleepy and just let them go to sleep on the couch.

Jimmy knew it was taking a large mental toll on them, but what else could they do? They were getting paid for this, it wasn't like they could stop.

Jimmy could only hope that the killer was caught soon, or else there would be a lot of nights like this.

Jimmy hates the cops.

It's from Jimmy's point of view.

[yairosakaki]

MAGICAL Order ✩ RikaPure (MAGICAL秩序✩リカピュア) Rough TL

As said in the title, this is a rough translation of Rikai’s 2nd break song (rough being I haven’t had this proofread, and am a beginner at translating). I don’t usually translate songs, so the wording might be awkward, and may contain inaccuracies.

TL Notes;

- Rikai uses the word 煩悩 (bonnō) which is basically a term for negative emotion. It’s from buddhism and it refers to the 5 earthly desires (those being greed, anger, foolishness, arrogance, and doubt from what I’ve searched up) I just write it as ‘earthly desire’ though.

- Hyu Hyuu (ヒュヒュー) is an onomatopeia of whistling. I believe it’s supposed to be a whistle of encouragement here. I might be wrong, though.

- ‘Raison d’être’ means ‘reason for existence’.

- Fumiya’s line ‘It’s all about Rikai/Understanding’ holds a double meaning, since Rikai’s kanji for his name also means ‘Understanding’.

————————————————

Unwavering Purity! RikaPure of Order!

MAGICAL✩RikaPure! (So sparkly!)

Retaliating against earthly desires!

RikaPure of Order! (Feeling giddy!)

Justice Boy! (YAY!)

A gem of incorruptibility

Protecting mankind is what the Gods will me to do

The evolution of a pure-hearted boy (WOW!)

into a magic-user (Transform!)

Chosen as the moral leader

To all fools (PP!) You can awaken (PP!)

Give me all of your love! (Woooo!)

Harmony protected by justice and law

Makes the world burst into happiness with a smile (Happy!)

To the immoral evil that runs rampant in this world

I will deliver a crushing blow on it myself

Charge up my fighting power!

RikaPure of Order! (Let’s go, Let’s go!)

Miracle Boy

It is okay that I am shunned (Yes!)

This is my own path

Slashing insolence in two with only one stroke (GO!)

Superior Heavenly Punishment! (Put your whole heart in it!)

The descending leader of purity is here

Those with immoral desires (Hyu Hyuu) will be burnt down (Hyu Hyuu)

And become a scorching hell-fire (Good luck!!)

A melody united by intelligence and courage

Holds a sacred ground where rhythm is undisturbed (We are!)

Judging insincerity, punishing indiscretion

And purging disorder

Is my unbeatable raison d’être

How stunning! (Terra)

The finest-quality sexy~

We’re counting on you!

We’ve got your back!

I’ll follow your lead!

It’s all about Rikai/Understanding.

Let us proceed and venture after the other side of the rainbow

Aim at the ultimate cosmos, the place of vows

Harmony protected by justice and law

Makes the world burst into happiness with a smile (Happy!)

Stick through one path of truth and sincerity

And we can all be friends

Charge up my fighting power! (Wooo yeah!)

MAGICAL✩RikaPure! (So sparkly!)

Retaliating against earthly desires!

RikaPure of Order! (Feeling giddy!)

Justice Boy! (YAY!)

Righteousness reigns… supreme!

[glumet-shadow]

The great rose killer

In the walls of heartslabyul there were two kings, one of Knights, and the other of roses. Both had a burning hot past of pain.

The great king of roses, his name was Riddle rosehearts, while the king of Knights was named Leo tsukinaga. One ran from their position in the midst of the war, and the other was never even involved.

"A true leader never runs from those they lead, no matter what. Even in the 'judgement'." Tsukasa said to his dorm leader Riddle. "I've never run from anything I have lead Tsukasa. I take it to the end." Riddle said in response. Across the room, Leo who was watching the tyrannical dorm leader and his unit mate discuss something. Ace was recently banished from the dorm, the antithesis to Riddle. Of course, Leo knew it was injustice. He fought on the front lines of the yumenosaki war, of course he would stand up to Riddle! He saw the pain tyranny led to. Because Eichi clawed and slashed at Leo until he left the school, and his unit Knights.

The final judgement, a common Knights purge. The first known and recorded one was when Tsukasa and Leo fought for control over the unit. But Leo cannot ask of aid from other idols in this case. But he also couldnt turn to Ace or Anzu. So he had to stand alone, the greatest rose killer. Thats what he could call himself.

King of roses, King of Knights, possibly one in the same soon. But only time could tell. Ace was ready to stand against Riddle in the battle, but Leo stopped him saying "I ran before, this time I will be the King they seek! This new land shall be my greatest kingdom! And Riddle will roll in his grave when he sees what I will create!" Ace, Anzu, Deuce, Subaru, Hokuto, and Mao all stood in shock. Tsukasa even more so, but he smiled. Leo finally had become the leader of knights he shouldve been. Riddle turned red.

The only correct rule, he called himself. Riddle stood up after the intense battle, black began to cover his body. The metal of Leo's sword clashed against the blot. They heard a pained shriek of pain from Leo. The thorns that surrounded the king of roses cut Leo down where he stood. In the background Arashi stood, watching her 'king' fall. She drew her magic pen, and a blast of fire hit Riddle. Thorns burned.

"I wont give up." Leo said while standing up with a cut on his left arm. "I will be a king again!" He shouted, his normally smiling demeanor gone. His happy green eyes turned cold as his blade cut through the blot and the reflection of the sword caused Riddle to fall unconscious. Into the depths of memories of pain, and the judgement of his mother.

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

Okay guys, hope you enjoyed this little thing,h I was rewatching the anime and thought of this. The art is my own btw! I worked for like an hour or so. This took like 10 min to write. But the references are from the episode 'checkmate' of the enstars anime for those curious! The sword I found off pinterest and just added the rose to it. If you guys are curious I can post what enstars character goes to what dorm next time. Also im working on the next dorm for yan enstars x twst. So far it looks good. Once im done with the dorms I plan to work on the units.

[viatagrinner]

Gilbert von Obsidian. I want to know the secret you're hiding. His POV.

Human greed and soft-heartedness are the cause of mistakes.

What is rotten cannot be restored.

If left unchecked, the rest would rot in a chain reaction.

So, I'm going to clean it up.

Wipe it clean, don't bring dirt into the world.

Gilbert: So? How were you guys going to turn on me?

There was a sea of blood.

The corpses of beasts, not only human beings, but also greedy beasts, are piled up on top of each other.

The only ones standing upright were me and the helper in the charcoal-black hood.

Picking up the sword lying on the ground, I slashed the only survivor, the beast, in the shoulder.

(Dirty.....)

Man: Oww... I... I don't know anything.

I cut the shoulder from the other side and kicked it to the slightly muddy ground.

Gilbert: Then you want me to guess?

Gilbert: You guys heard that the Beast the Conqueror has a "favorite" in Rhodolite.

Man: ....Aaah....

Gilbert: With her, the cold-blooded royalty might listen.

Gilbert: You give me back the title you deprived me of, and the woman will be safe and sound, I'll give her back to you... You were about to say something like that.

Gilbert: In your scary dreams you launched one of these parasites into Rhodolite, didn't you?

Man: Oww.... Help me....

Gilbert: Ahaha, you idiot...

Gilbert: ....Do you think you're allowed to breathe after messing around with my prey?

Ruthlessly swinging my sword.

Spatter stains clothes and face.

The beast didn't move anymore.

(Really... How many people I've killed.)

Exactly one year ago I was visiting in Rhodolite and met Miss Bunny.

The fact that we were good friends, if only for a short time, spread everywhere, and politicians deprived of their seats during the purges came for Miss Bunny.

(I knew it would happen back then.)

I drop my sword and walk through the pool of blood.

Gilbert: ...Roderich...Put it all away. It's a purge on the emperor's land.

Roderich: I'll tell Michael....

Gilbert: No need...

One of the agents in Rhodolite is now a regular at Miss Bunny's bookstore.

When "he" was not with Miss Bunny, he was always in charge of escorting the hare and solving any problems that arose.

(But now...)

Gilbert: ...I'm going to Rhodolite.

Roderich: I see. .... This is the first I've heard of it, though.

Gilbert: You're lucky you got to hear it.

Roderich: ........

Gilbert: Here's what I'm going to do...

While I'm gone, you'll look after yourself.

I left, ignoring the assistant, who couldn't find the words.

(I wonder if Miss Bunny is feeling well.)

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Waiter: Thanks for the wait. It's a birthday cake.

Meeting Miss Bunny for the first time this year, I realized that nothing has changed.

Under the pretext of "finding someone," I drive her around and get an unexpected surprise at the cafe we came to.

(I never thought you would remember my birthday.)

In front of me was a pure white cake decorated with sugar confectionery roses.

Gilbert: ...I knew you were secretly ordering something.

MC: It's your birthday, isn't it?

Gilbert: You remembered.

MC: In many ways I'll never forget it.

(Because I teased/mocked you last year.)

Since I used my birthday as an opportunity to drag Miss Bunny into a cauldron of anger, it should never be a good memory.

Gilbert: ...You never learn, do you?

Gilbert: Just like last year, I could betray you, right?

MC: Then please don't betray me. This cake is a masterpiece, right?

Gilbert: Ahahaha, are you going to use it as a bribe?

MC: That's not what I meant, but... at least let me celebrate your birthday in an honest way.

Gilbert: Hey, I feel sorry for you, partner.

(...As usual, you are so accomplished that I want to vomit...)

(I've exposed her to so much malice in the Court, even if only for a while, and I can't believe that it hasn't changed her at all.)

It's disgustingly rare.

I like her so much that I have to force myself to come and see her in this way.

Gilbert: But I will accept Miss Bunny's good will.

(I'm not going to use the celebration this year.)

I grabbed the fork I had in my hand and held it out to Miss Bunny.

MC: What's that for?

Gilbert: Just wait for "Yum"?

MC: ....I don't like it.

Gilbert: Oh, I have to tell you again, don't I?

(...She's worth the teasing.)

Miss Bunny, who had a frankly suspicious attitude, eventually took a piece of cake with her spoon and put it in my mouth.

(But the amount of harassment is so great that it's almost like being harassed.)

I'm enjoying the sweet taste.

MC: So, how was it?

Gilbert: One more bite.

(Last year, on my birthday, you always seemed to be wary of me, ...but this year, it doesn't seem that way.)

She's shy, worried, but acting/deciding.

(While Miss Bunny was in court, we became friends.)

(...Poor thing.)

With sincere sympathy, I continued to eat the cakes that were brought to me one by one.

Gilbert: I wasn't interested in sweets before, but I tasted them in Rhodolite.

Gilbert: Now I like sweets. It's your fault, isn't it?

MC: ...I'm glad you liked it.

(....Well, I guess it tastes better because you're here.)

When it comes to food, the people you spend time with are more important than the food.

A recent domestic dinner with the aristocracy tasted nothing at all, no matter how much I ate.

(That alone was already worth a visit to Rhodolite.)

(..... Well, I need to hurry up with my original business.)

Even when I was teasing Miss Bunny, my mind was always directed to the street. So I noticed it right away.

(The man I was looking for.... Found.)

Miss Bunny must have noticed it, too, and looked at me puzzledly, as if to ask: "What are you going to do?"

Gilbert: ...If you've finished your meal, let's go somewhere else.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Bar.

A man was drinking alone.

MC: He's drinking alone?

Gilbert: Yes....He must be very lonely.

We sit in the blind spot while Miss Bunny drinks juice.

(Although I wanted to enjoy my birthday more.)

Miss Bunny breathes nervously.

She's not supposed to know anything about the circumstances, but she can guess with her keen intuition.

(It's about time for the medicine to kick in... let's get down to business.)

Gilbert: Hey, Miss Bunny. Have you noticed anything unusual around you lately?

Honest Miss Bunny had an answer on her face before she could put it into words.

Gilbert: If you have something to say, then say it.

MC: I think it's just my imagination, but sometimes I feel followed.

MC: On the way home from the bookstore... I turned around and there was no one there.

(It's not much better than third-rate when an amateur can sense your presence.)

Gilbert: Hey, is that a stalker?

MC: ...What do you think?

Gilbert: You really are adorable, aren't you?

MC: What?

Gilbert: Yeah, probably the kind of person who subconsciously puts all men down.

I said it with the utmost sincerity, but the little hare raised an eyebrow and made a difficult face.

(.....Too bad.)

Gilbert: It's okay. I don't think you'll ever feel the gaze again.

MC: Why?.....

MC: ....Oh....

Gilbert: Because you're my only catch/prey.... right?

Miss Bunny's body tilted as if something had broken.

I reached out so she wouldn't hit her forehead and gently lowered her face to the table.

(I bet you'll despise me when you wake up.)

(....Sorry/ Will you forgive me?)

I get up and have a conversation with the guest sitting next to me.

Gilbert: Just keep an eye on her.

Michael: I'll deal with "him..."

Gilbert: I want to do it.

I smiled, grabbing my cane.

As I trudged through the bustle, I put my hand on the shoulder of the "beast," who was drinking alcohol alone behind the counter.

Gilbert: I should let you know who you're trying to get.

When our gazes met, the beast dropped his glass and turned deathly pale.

Gilbert: ....The ex-count?

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

The frightened beast took refuge in a deserted alley, so a "purge " was over quickly.

However, I can't go back to Miss Bunny in dirty clothes, so I go straight to the Court.

I could have stayed in my room, but I unconsciously went to the chapel because.

That's probably why it was unexpected, but I expected it.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

MC: Prince Gilbert... You are cruel.

When the chapel door opened and a faint light entered, the corners of my lips lifted unconsciously.

Gilbert: Ahaha, sorry?

(You may or may not have come... the odds were 50/50, but did you brave it?)

When I turn around, Miss Bunny raises her eyebrows and looks at me.

MC: Prince Gilbert, why did you put me to sleep?

Gilbert: Of course, because it wasn't convenient.

MC: What do you mean?

MC: Prince... Gilbert...

Fear, as if she suddenly realized something, appeared in her clear eyes.

Gilbert: ...Have you noticed? I changed my clothes properly.

(I'm sure it doesn't smell that bad, ...but maybe I'm just so used to it that I don't notice it.)

MC: What was wrong... with this man?

Gilbert: Some things are better left unsaid.

(You don't need to know anything.)

The fact that Miss Bunny is still haunted by a lot of evil people, she doesn't need to know that I keep eliminating that malice.

(I take advantage of the malice necessary for "judgment," but everything else is just a hindrance.)

Everything I wanted to hide was hidden behind my smile.

Gilbert: I paid you back for your good will, okay?

MC: ...Why did you involved me?

MC: If you were looking for someone, you could have done it alone.

Gilbert: Because it was my birthday.

Even if it sounds stupid, I mean it.

Having had a taste of last year's birthday, the bad guy came again this year.

MC: ...?

Gilbert: I'm here in Rhodolite to run some errands, so my time is limited.

Gilbert: If you didn't accompany me on my errands, I wouldn't be able to spend time with you.

Gilbert: I'm a bad guy. That's why I don't mind choosing to enjoy myself even if it hurts you.

MC: ......

Gilbert: I was waiting to see if you would get in, but I froze.

Gilbert: If that's all there is to it, I think I'll just go.

(I don't think you'll celebrate with me like this.)

Miss Bunny, looking frightened, hurt, and lost in emotion, closed her eyes.

I turned my back on that figure and walked toward the doorway.

(....... I think I was expecting too much, because this might be the last year.)

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

*the sound of a cane on the stone floor*

Every time the sound is heard, Miss Bunny's presence disappears...

...It was destined to happen

Gilbert: What?

I feel heat on my back and stop.

When I turn around, Miss Bunny was clinging to me to stop me.

MC: Even though I told you not to betray me...you really are the worst.

Gilbert: No, I didn't promise not to betray you, did I?

MC: Yes, you did. ...I didn't really believe in it either.

Gilbert: Ahaha, you're smart, aren't you?

MC: Other than that, I'll also say...

MC: Happy Birthday...

(............)

(...Did you hear the voice of my heart?)

"Congratulations" Miss Bunny seeps into my cold body.

Gilbert: You have a heart of steel, don't you?

MC: No, it doesn't. It still hurts so much I feel like I'm going to vomit blood.

Gilbert: And you're celebrating me?

Gilbert: I may have just done as bad a job as you can imagine.

MC: I try to believe... only what I see.

MC: All I saw today was Prince Gilbert, who seemed to enjoy himself from start to finish.

MC: The feeling that you stopped in Rhodolite and wanted to meet me was genuine too, wasn't it?

Gilbert: ......

(Sounds like fun...)

(.....Oh, that's how it looked.)

MC: Even though he's a great villain, that feeling made me happy...

MC: I just wanted to congratulate you.

(You don't know anything about what I'm hiding.)

This is why I don't like beautiful/pure things.

Gilbert: ...In fact, you're so stupid I'm going to be sick.

(I know it's stupid, but ...... I'm glad I came to reach you under a weird pretext.)

For some reason my body seems warmer than usual.

Ms. Bunny was quiet for a moment, and then she opened her mouth, as if making up her mind.

MC: Prince Gilbert..... Who am I to you?

(That's sudden. Did someone say something to you? ....)

(But I can give you that answer in a minute.)

From the "old days" [!!??] to the present, the position of Miss Bunny has not changed.

Gilbert: .....Last hope, perhaps?

(Though the day will never come when you'll know the meaning of that word.)

Gilbert: By the way, by the looks of it, you're going to congratulate me, right?

I turned, slipped out of Miss Bunny's arms, and smiled as usual.

If she was going to celebrate, I wanted to blow off some of the gloom and doom.

Gilbert: How are you going to celebrate this year? Of course, you won't run away, will you...?

MC: Well, we just celebrated...

Gilbert: Birthday's not over yet, okay?

MC: What do you want?

Gilbert: I'm freezing.

When I spread my arms, Miss Bunny was clearly embarrassed.

But I'm not going to back down.

(You're wondering how this could be a birthday present?)

(But...it will.)

I stopped loving people a long time ago.

I don't love anyone now.

Even beasts like me sometimes lack warmth.

Only the brave and good-natured Miss Bunny can embrace the beast that is feared by all and even smells of blood.

(I wouldn't normally ask for this.)

After some hesitation, Miss Bunny frightenedly jumps on my chest.

(......Ah, it's warm.)

(Thank you, Miss Bunny.)

I wonder if the smile I got was a real laugh.

(I'll take good care of it as my "last present"...?)

Gilbert's Masterlist