#so. she had zenos carry it.

[souridealist]

FFXIVwrite #12: 'quarry'

[Immediately after Endwalker base game. I... don't know if the line between the prompt and the result is traceable for anyone but me.]

Alphinaud finds Elilona on the hill across from the Rising Stones, tossing the Ragnarok’s teleportation device meditatively in her hand.

“Are you all right?” he asks her, dropping onto the warm spring ground. She tilts her head and weighs the question, eyes on the horizon.

“I think so,” she says at last. “I think I am.” The disc falls into her waiting palm. “Urianger said something that I’d… been thinking myself.”

“About — Ultima Thule?” Alphinaud’s voice doesn’t usually crack on the name, but he usually finds a way to think of it as a place or a phenomenon, not what it was.

“Yes. Well, no, not — yes.” Her smile twists in rueful half-apology. “Yes. About Ultima Thule, and about Zenos.” The disc spins in the sunlight. “I don’t really know how much you saw, how clear it was. But he came, and he carried me. He saved us. He had a message from Hydaelyn for me, too, in a way.”

“A message? Did she —” He hits the end of the sentence like an unexpected downward stair. Did she what? What can you ask of a goddess you served and met and killed?

“The Echo,” Elilona says, filling in her own question on his behalf. “She… knew, I think, or had enough left to touch the aether, something. But she knew I’d see what he saw, and she told him what she wanted to tell me.” Alphinaud must make some sound, because she looks to him. “It wasn’t about the world,” she says. “Only me and her, and my… progenitor. Something she hadn’t wanted to make me carry, and then thought might be better to know after all.”

“Will you tell me?”

“I will,” she answers, serious as ceremony. “But another time. I don’t think I know how to tell it, and for what I was thinking about today, it only matters that he knew it was a message. He knew he brought it.”

“And then you fought him.” He keeps his voice even and calm. Elilona has fought a great many people, and not all of them the ones she would have chosen. The only things about her that he doesn’t understand are made up of all those mid-battle moments where he hasn’t been able to go.

“We talked, first.” She snatches the disc from the air, this time, and rubs her thumb over the surface. “About who we are, and why we do what we do. He — asked, demanded, pleaded? I don’t really know. But he wanted me to tell him that I do this for the challenge of it.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That it wasn’t exactly true, but that he wasn’t wrong to see himself in me. Maybe not quite as much as either of us thought, but something.”

You are very unlike him, Alphinaud wants to say. But he’s learned something, at some point, along the way, and so he doesn’t.

“I fought him because he asked me to,” Elilona adds instead. “He offered to let me walk away. But he’d saved us all, and it’s not the end I would have chosen but I had to give him something. So.” She shrugs one shoulder. “I fought him. The way he wanted.”

“To the death?” Alphinaud ventures, mostly to give her something to answer.

“Nothing held back.” She flexes her fingers. “The way… the way I don’t do. When I came back to myself after, I’d torn chunks out of his ribcage with my hands.”

Alphinaud swallows the stone in his throat and reaches over to very deliberately take her hand. His fingers barely span the back, but he holds on.

“Thanks, Alphinaud.” She wraps her arm around him and pulls close; he presses his face against her shoulder. “But — I did come back to myself, after. And it was what he wanted. I wanted… I wanted to let him see it. And I could put it away.”

“I see.” He sits up, gives her hand another squeeze before he lets it go. “And you’re all right?”

“I really think I am.” She looks down at the disc in her other hand. “And then, after it was over — this was there. And I have a better sense for aether than dynamis, but I don’t think I could have called it alone.”

It takes Alphinaud a moment. “You think he sent you back to us.”

“I do.” She curls her fingers around the device. “A last gift.”

Alphinaud could forgive Doma and Ala Mhigo, or at least move on from them; he could have worked with Zenos, if the man had tried. He hadn’t thought anything could make him forgive Elilona’s sobbing, ragged face after the fight at the Royal Menagerie. And this doesn’t, either, but it does soften that reckoning.

“Well,” he says. “I suppose I can be grateful to him for that.”

“And I.” She tosses the device one last time and slips it into her pocket, pushing herself up to her feet. “I hope he found what he was looking for.”

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 1-Wet dreams-Illumi/Reader

Notes:  btw since you also come from a famous assassin clan your last name is Yomi(shadow in japanese, but it doesnt really mean your japanese or any aithnecity) and your parents make a brief appearance. I modeled them barely after my own parents but you can pretty much put any parents over them lol

Title from ‘You Can't Hurry Love' by The Supremes

...

Illumis knew you hated his guts. You walked with purpose from room to room, location to location, perfectly made up and neat in a kimono. You chatted with your assistants, handed out raises generously to the butlers, and laughed and smiled in the garden with your friends. But you barely spared him a glance. All you could muster was a small, fake smile, and maybe if you were in a good mood, a simple greeting. 

“Hello, husband.”

You ground out the word ‘husband’ like it was a curse. Illumi would simply blink, and return your greeting.

“Hello, my wife.”

You would smile that fake plastic smile that always managed to appear when he was near, and remove yourself from the situation as fast as possible. Illumi didn't mind your attitude. He had no attachments to you, you were simply a woman his parents had picked. He knew you hadn't volunteered for this, and so he simply let your barbs roll off his shoulders and carried on with his day. He was sure he had no interest in you. 

His parents had raised him not to fall for pretty women with pretty smiles. Pretty smiles that were never tossed his way. 

He remembered so clearly your first meeting. Years ago, when you were both younger, when you were softer, when you smiled at him.

♡♡♡

“Straighten your collar.” Mother said. Illumis back twitched, reaching up to fiddle with the black collar of his kimono, pulling the white of his undershirt slightly, so it peaked over the outer collar. He felt stiff and trapped. And hot. Mother had combed his shoulder length hair neatly, so it fell prettily around his neck. Illumi felt like a bird, forced to preen for the sake of his parents. eighteen was too young to be engaged. Illumi frowned, brows furrowing across his pale skin.

“Tell me mother,” He asks. “Why must I do this? Why not Miluki.”

His mother cocks an eyebrow, standing across the small waiting room of their house. They are waiting for the guests.

“You're the most presentable of my children,” Kikyo said, straightening the hem of her dark purple kimono. Her eye visor blinked. “Straighten your back and try to make a good impression. That wedding Kimono was your fathers.”

Illumi raises his arm to run a hand through his hair, but freezes and Kikyo's glare. He lowers his hand back down slowly. Kikyo folds her hands delicately across her lap

“You know how important this alliance is, Illumi.” She scolds, “her family will be a vital asset.”

Illumi nods stiffly, adjusting his black haori. He doesn't want to marry. He doesn't want someone tying him down. 

“Excited, son?” Silva has arrived, Zeno grumbling behind him. Illumi shakes his head.

“I don't want to marry,” He protests. SIlva laughs, landing a hand on Illumis shoulder.

“I know, but this match is quite important to the future of the Zoldyck clan.” He explains, patting Illumi gently on the shoulder. “Name is a powerful woman, whose talent will certainly be useful in the future. Not to mention an alliance with her family is ideal for us.”

Illumi nods obediently, absorbing the information. But nothing they say truly makes him want to do this. Silva laughs.

“Don't be too upset, son. I hear she's very beautiful.” He says with a chuckle, giving Illumi one last pat on the back, and moving towards Kikyo. She eyes him up and down, taking in his work attire, and sighs a great, gusty sigh. Before she can complain, the main door opens with a slam. They're here.

Kikyo stands tall, Silva next to her, Illumi beside him, Zeno on his other side. They stand in a neat line. Awaiting their visitors.

Illumi can make out five figures. Two silent handmaidens clothed in dark blue kimonos, sharp eyes demurely pointed down. Their obviously trained bodyguards. They walk in front of the three figures, deceptive smiles on their faces. 

Next come two older figures. A tall, muscled man, who glares around the room. And a shorter woman, who smiles almost too kindly. They must be your parents, the leaders of your family. And before the, almost surrounded, almost protected, is a figure clothed in white and red.

You stand out brilliantly against the blues and blacks of the backgrounds, the white and red of your kimono almost glowing in the lamplight. But what strikes Illumi silent, is your face. You are beautiful. Illumi feels a weird beating in his chest. Your eyes dart nervously from person to person, never quite landing on him. Illumi fights down the odd desire to move forward, to do something. He doesn't know what. Kikyo is the first to speak

“How lovely to meet you,” She says, moving forward. Your mother moves in return, smiling at Kikyo and moving forward. The adults dissolve into pleasantries. Illumi stays still, as the room springs into motion around him. All he can see is you across from, glowing and clothed in white. Spit is gathering in his mouth, and Illumi gulps it down and moves forward.

“Hello,” He says when he stands before you. He sounds like a robot. You smile shyly, ribbons of hair falling down around your shoulders.

“Hi,” You say, offering a hand. Illumi looks at it. Your hand is small and delicate, with small rounded nails. They shimmered in the light. Illumi had the urge to kiss it. You frown.

“Not one for handshakes?” You ask, disguising your disappointment with a small laugh. Illumi frowns, grabbing your hand as it recedes.

“No!” Illumi gets out a little too eargerly. You look up at him, confusion in your pretty eyes. Illumi takes your hand in his own.

Your hand is soft and the back of his neck and his ears suddenly hot. You giggle nervously as Illumi gently lowers your hand, and a pretty flush graces your cheeks. Illumi almost preens like a bird. You liked him. He liked that. He liked you. 

“We haven't introduced ourselves properly,” You say, a smile gracing your painted lips, Illumis eyes follow the movement. He feels strangely hungry. 

“Yes,” He says. You wait, and when the silence continues, you speak first.

“I am Name Lastname, oldest daughter of the Yomi family.” You say. Your name is as pretty as you. Illumi nods.

“Illumi Zoldyck, eldest son of the Zoldyke family.” He says. You smile again, posture relaxing a little. Illumis eyes catch on the flash of skin as your collar slides down a bit. He can see a hint of collarbone.

“It's nice to meet you, Illumi,” You say. He likes the way your mouth forms the syllables of his name.

“You too, Name.” He returns. He still sounds like a robot, but as you smile, he feels himself relax a bit. The adults are still chatting around you, in a small circle as they talk about anything and everything, but all he can see is you in front of him. Suddenly, marriage doesn't sound so bad.

“Do you, um, want a tour?” he asks, his voice cracking a bit, he hopes you don't notice. A grin lights up your face, and you nod happily.

Oh yes,” You say, “i'd love one.”

Illumi almost smiles, but instead offers his arm. For a moment, he worries your won't take it. You’ll scoff and roll your eyes and leave to marry a much nicer boy—

Your hand wraps around his arm, heating his cold skin. Illumi shivers. As he leads you through the archway and deeper into the house, he can feel your presence next to him. The scent of your perfume lingers in the air. Intoxicating. Illumi feels hot, flustered, and emberassed. And for the first time in a while, happy.

“Well, what do we have here.” 

Illumi looks up, already dreading the sight he knows hes gonna see. Sure enough, Hisoka stands before him, wearing jeans and a black tutrleneck and grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Illumi frowns.

“Whose this?” You asks. Your peartched beside him on the couch of the library, hands folded neatly in your lap. Illumi holds back a groan as Hisokas eyes slide to you. His eyes take you in, your pretty face and your white wedding kimono, and he smirks. 

“Yeah Illumi, introduce me to your pretty lady friend.” Hisoka says. You giggle, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Illumi’s stomach sinks. 

“This is Name, my fiance.” he says. “Name, meet Hisoka.”

“Hi,” You say, offering your hand to shake. Hisoka grins. 

“Positivly enchanted to meet you.” Hisoka says, and grips your hand in his pale fingers, bringing it up to press a kiss to the top. Illumi glares. You giggle again, as the tips of Hisokas red hair brushes your wrist. Illumi glares harder. After what feels like forever, Hisoka recedes, and Illumi watches your hand fall back into your lap. 

“So, Illumi.” Hisoka says, plopping between the two of you. “You didint tell me you were engaged.”

“In his defense, we just got engageed today.” You say, and Illumi is certain he can spot a blush across your cheeks. He curses Hisoka as you continue. “Are you guys close?”

“No.” Illumi says. HIsoka pouts very fakely.

“How rude.” He says, and illumi digs his finger into Hisokas side as the man leans over, stage whispering into your ear.  “Im his only friend. Hes embarrassed.”

“I see,” You say with a laugh. “How old are you Hisoka?”

“20.” Hisoka says, swiping his hair away from his face. 

“Oh, your older than us, huh.” You say, smiling much to nicely for Illumis liking. You sound like your enjoying yourself, and that makes him feel weird. 

“You must be the same age as Illumi?” Hisoka asks. He continues at your nod. “Your so pretty and socialable, hes lucky..”

You laugh. Hisoka winks. Illumi jabs a second finger into Hisoka’s side.

“Thanks, your handsome too.” You say. “And very funny. Both of you are.”

Illumi digs a third finger into Hisoka’s side, but it only seems to egg him on. He only shoots Illumi a gleeful grin, then turns back to you.

“Why thank you, dear—”

“Im going to talk to him alone for a moment.” Illumi interrupts him, yaking him by his hair and dragging him away.

“Alright.” You say, waving them away with a smile.

Hisoka blows you a kiss, and Illumi yanks his hair harder, dragging him around a nearby bookcase, and release the hair like it had burned him. Hisoka is grinning from ear to ear.

“You jealous.” He says

“No!” Illumi shouts, then looks around frantically, before shaking his head. “No.” He repeats more calmly.

“Dont be embarrassed,” Hisoka says, leaning against the bookcase. “Its only natural to be jealous of me after all.” 

He runs a hand through his hair with a grin. Illumi fake gags. 

“Im not jealous.” Illumi says, doing his best to maintain his eaven tone.

“Oh really” Hisoki says, raising an eyebrow into his hairline. “Can i kiss her then?”

Illumi knows it bait. Hisoka is only doing this to annoy him, or taunt him. He always does shit like this. But he still feels all wierd. Illumi takes a deep breath.

“I dont care.” He says, putting on his best performance. “I dont even like her.”

“Oh yeah?” Hisoka asks, folding his arms. “You dont think shes pretty?”

“She’s unremarkable.” Illumi suplies, Hisoka doesnt look like he believes him, so he tries his best. “In everything, from looks to talents, she seems unfit to marry into this family!”

Hisoka’s eyebrow creeps higher and higher, but Illumi maintains his blank stair until he with a sigh. Theres silence for a moment, until Hisoka pushes off the bookcase, 

“If you really dont mind, i think i will kiss her.” He says, walking back the way they came. 

Illumi moves suddenly, grabbing Hisokas arm in a death grip. Hisoka turns around with a smirk, and sudcenly, Illumi understands hes been got.

“So you do li—”

“Shut up.” Illumi grinds out. “Dont tell.”

Hisoka grins. “Sure.”

♡♡♡

You never were friendly with him after that. You had vanished when he and Hisoka had returned, and you were cold and standoffish in the times he saw you, both before the wedding and in the two years that had passed after it. Illumi didint mind. Not a bit.

His chest feels a bit weird. Illumi brings his hand up, feeling above his heart. Maybe he was injured on todays mission.

He should check that out when he gets back to his quarters. Illumi walks down the long hallway, pausing for a split second in front of the only other door. Your door. You wouldnt want to see him. Still Illumi feels the urge to open your door, go in and see what you were doing. You were probably getting ready for bed. Illumi should just go to his room. With a huff of breath Illumi continues down the hallway and closes his door behin him. His chest is hurting more. He shrugs of his top, pocking at the skin over his heart. Oddly enough, theres no wound, only a few minor cuts on his side and abs. 

“Illumi? I need to speake with you.” He hears your voice, coming from the connecting door between your room and his. His heart suddenly feels better.

“Come in.” He says. You enter, closing the door behind you with a creak. The hinges must be rusted. Your eyes skan him up and down taking in his half naked state.

“Why are you shirtless.” You say. Your ears are red, you must be hot.

Illumi gestures at his chest. “Injuries. What did you need to speak with me about?”

You ignore the first part, moving forward with worry. “Your injured?” You say, looking around the room. “Wheres your first aid kit. Ill help.”

“Theres no need.” Illumi protests. 

You glare. “Am i that incompetent? Just let me do it.” you say, hands on your hips. Your wearing some satin nightgown thing. Its black, and the silky fabric stops high up on your thighs, fluttering distractingly. The fabric draws his eyes to the unbleamashed skin of your thighs. 

You tap your foot on the floor. “First aid box?”

“In the bedside drawer.” Illumi settles back onto the bed with a sigh, you march over, first aid box in your vengeful hands and plop it down onto the bed. Rummaging through it, you find some alcohol and dab it onto a cotton pad. Illumi feels your breath on his skin as you bed over, disinfecting his first wound. He feels weird.

“You wanted to talk to me?” He prompts, ignoring the strange feelings in his gut. The silk of your nightgown slips a little, a black strap sliding down one sholder. You move it back up. Illumi moves his eyes from the movement. 

“Oh yeah,” You say, gentle hands placing a bandaid on his wound. “I had tea with Kikyo this afternoon.”

Illumi frowns. Kikyo loves you, and always makes sure to assure him hes lucky to have you. Whenever the two of you have tea, its sure to prelude an angry summon and admonishment. His mother believed he wasnt working hard enough on your relationship. Illumi knew you would prefer he just leave you alone. His mother always rambled on about how you were hurt, and he was a fool. Illumi was not a fool.

“Fun.” Illumi says. You move to disinfect another wound.  “How is she.”

“Good. She wants grandchildren.” You say. Your neck is also red. Illumi coughs.

“Are you hot?” Illumi asks. You frown in confusion.

“No?” You say. You look up, and Illumi watches the lace slide across the top of your boobs. He digs a hand into his thigh, trying to mute the arousal starting to creep through his body. He deosnt know much of sexual activity, but he certainly knoews this feeling. 

“Ok.” Illumi says. You put one of his brothers discarded little mermaid bandaids on the cut under his left pec. He shivers involuntarily when your nails scrape his skin. “I can get grandchildren.”

You jerck up, a shocked expression on your face. “What?” Your face is flushed, the cotton pad dangling close to falling from your hand. He feels himself swell up, body heating with the things he had implied, and prays you dont notice. Illumi frowns his, heat gathering in his face. 

“I can go steal some.” He explains, “Hisoka meantoned a friend of his who—”

“No Illumi.” You say, laughing a little. Illumi is proud he made you laugh. You move back towards him with the cotton pad as you continue. “How is Hisoka doing?”

“Fine.” Illumi says. He feels all grumply all of a sudden, and his heart is hurting again. “Hes fighting at Heavens Arena appearently.”

“That sounds perfect for him.” You say with another chuckle. Illumi feels his fingers dig into his palm, and relaxes them slowly. The arousal, which had faded slightly at Hisoka’s name, comes back in full force as your hands return and you lean down. Illumi gets and eyefull of your boobs, cupped in a plane black braw under the black lace. He looks up abruptly, begging you dont notice. You would probably never talk to him again if he made his arousal obvious. Thankfully your too busy tending to his wounds to notice.

“Anyway, Kikyo gave me something to give to you.” You say, your hand pressing a third bandaid, this one of lego batman, onto his abs. You smooth over it, hands lingering for what feels like hours on his abs. Illumi resists the urge to grab your wrists and guid them a few inches lower, to the part of him that really, really wants it. You sigh, pulling back

“There, all done.” You say.

Illumi feels both let down and relieved as you pull away, as your scent fades away with your body. Suddenly, you’re jerked to a stop.

“Illumi?” You say, glaring down pointedly. For a moment, Illumi fears you’ve discovered his obvious arousal. You’ll probably look at him in disgust or worse, storm from the room and nevver talk to him again. Illumi follows your eyes, and finds his hand has reached out to grab your wrist. He lets it go.

“What did you have to give to me?” he asks, pulling the offending hand back into his lap, trying to subtly cover any hints of his arousal.

“Oh right,” You say. “I forgot it in my room.” 

You move through the door again, and Illumi finds his eyes drawn to the sway of satin over your ass. He curses his eyes, and takes a moment to at least try to banish all signs of arousal before you retur n. 

“Here,” You say. In your hand is a vhs tape. “She said you should watch it.”

Illumi takes the tape and drops it thoughtlessly onto the bed beside him. You turn, moving back towards the door. Illumi feels the odd urge not to let you leave. Its probably the arousal talking.

“Wait.” He says impulsive. Your turn.

“Yes?” You ask, tapping a foot on the floor. “What else?”

Illumi frowns helplessly. He feels the strongest urge to keep you here with him. But your glaring at him, and he cant come up with an excuse to stop you from leaving. So he lets you go.

“Nothing.” 

The door slams behind you and his eyes sink to the Vhs tape beside him. Its obviously old, the label worn with age. It says ‘instructional tape,’. Gingerly, Illumi sets the vhs tape on his coffee table, and with sweaty hands, and arousal pumping through his body, goes to change for bed.

♡♡♡

 Your tyring to walk away from him again. Desperation fuiling his fingertips, Illumi reaches for you. If you leave now, through the black hole of a door between your rooms, he knoes he’ll never see you again. Illumi feels his fingers close around your thin wrists, jerking you to a stop. You turn, looking down at the hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What do you want, Illumi?” You ask. The black fabric of your nightgown highlights your skin, and you look so beautiful under the lowlight. Illumi finds himself taking a deep breath.

“Mother wants grandchildren.” He says, voice stilted. You nod, as he continues. “So, we should maker her some.”

You stare at him for a moment, before yanking your arm from his wrists. Illumi almost begs you to stay. You cant go, you cant reject him like this. He doesnt know if he’ll ever recover. But instead of rejecting him, you bring your hand up, tipping the strap of your night gown down your shoulder. Illumi watches as the black fabric slinks down your body, hugging your every curve as it slides down until it falls off your hips and hits the floor without a sound. Your left clothed only in your simple black bra and matching panties. Illumi feels his dick swelling with exitement in his pants as he reaches out, hands shaking to grip your waist delicately. He feels as if you might break if he grips to hard, or you might leave if he holds you too soft. You smile at him.

“I thought you’d never agree.” You say, a vision before him. Illumi feels the urge to comfort you. Gingerly, stifly, he pulls you into a hug. Your body is so much warmer than his, your temperature leaking off your skin and sinking into his own. He can smell your scent to clearly he almosts tastes it. 

“Ill do whatever you want.” Illumi says truthfully, and before the embarrassment sinks in, he pulls back enough to press a kiss to your lips.

Illumi has only ever kissed one girl. Ounce. On a dare from Hisoka. When he was thirteen. So its safe to say he doesnt have the most experience. He can tell you dont either, but that fine. You’ll figure it out together. The first press of lips is simple, just your lips colliding softly. And then the little knowledge Illumi had read begins to kick in and he moves his lips against yours. You smile against him, hands gripping his muscled shoulders as he winds his own arms around your bare waist. Your skin is so hot, hot like your breath as it collides hits his lips when the two of you pull back. 

You step backwards drawing him forward until your bug hits the bed and the two of you tumble onto it with a thud. You giggle a little, and move back in for another kiss. He can feel his body reacting to your touch, to your kiss, and as you girp his bare shoulders, he bites back a groan. He wants you so bad, he practically achs for it. 

You pull away from his lips, reaching around your back to undo the strange clasp that holds your braw together. Illumi watches in awe as you tosse it to the side, followed by your underwhere. 

“Look Illumi,” You say, grabbing his hand and tracing it down. Down your chest, through the valley of your boobs. Down your abdomen and navel and through the hair below to find something. Illumi watches in fascination as you press his fingers into a wet heat. “I want you so bad.”

Your back arches off the bed, body curving with what seams like pleasure as a small sigh escapes from your lips. Illumi feels himself twitch.

“Can i put it in?” He says, somehow sounding even more emotionless than usual. You nod, letting go of his wrist to bring your own hands to his crotch, pawing at the bulge in his pants. Illumi fights down another groan, shedding his pants and quickly as possible. Your lying on your back when he gets back, your legs propped up, and grinning. Illumi carefully grips himself, and concentrates on finding the prize you had shown him before. The wet heat is easy to find again, and Illumi carefully lines himself up before pressing himself inside.

Your mouth opens in a moan of his name, and Illumi almost lets go as he feels what must be heaven for the first time. He goes as slowly as possible, as your hands scrabble, gripping his wrists, the sheets beneath you, the nipple of your boobs until hes fully sinside of you, body between your spread legs, hands digging into the comforter on either side of you.

Strands of hair are caught in the sweat of his back, while others tumble down to brush your boobs. Illumi lets out a small groan. 

“Move,” You say. You must see his look of confusion, because you grin up through eyes hazy with arousal. “Grab my waist and thrust in and out.”

Illumi obeys, watching as your back arches, and your eys close in what must be pleasure. Its addictive to watch you, his eyes darting back and forth between your face and the places where your bodies connect. The world around him is hazy, your the focus. You always have been. The pleasure in his body is building. He feels like a chord is wrapping nots in his gut, and its going to snap. As if to match him, you grip his wrists.

“Almost there baby.” You moan. Illumi’s hips stutter as you continue. “Kiss me.”

Illumi feels himself close to loosing control, and with the last bit of his sanity, bends down to kiss your lips—

He wakes up tangled in his sheets, with the words ‘I love you’ on his lips and a wet spot staining his pants. 

After a cold shower and a long thought, Illumi decides that maybe its time to woo his wife. He sets off down the hall with his usual blank expression, but fi you looked close, there was a small bounce in his step.

.......

Endnotes: yaya first day done! btw i think the fanfic writer curse got me too, a bunch of person stuff was happening and i was already upset and i was preparing for kinktober...

and then BAM!!!

my grandma died!!!

btw if stuff is a little late thats why, cause im also sewing the dress im gonna wear, because she used to sew(im actually using her old machine)

anway, enjoy your smut dosage!!

[oneforblu]

yona of the dawn 264 thoughts

as always, this chapter was insanely well written. chapter 263 was already "creepy" enough with the dragon gods pretending to be the dragon warriors, but this chapter made things so much scarier.

the dragon gods making a hak clone just to make yona stay was so infuriating. all of her loved ones being used as puppets to keep her stuck in the chalice while yona fights for her way out was so heartbreaking to read.

yona is incredibly resilient, and even when facing the gods themselves, she doesn't back down. she loves the dragons more than anything and has already decided she won't leave them behind no matter what. it's what king hiryuu wanted, and yona will carry his dream out.

hearing the dragon gods say yona is going to the heavens brought me to tears. although she's willing to sacrifice herself to save her loved ones, it's another thing entirely to come face to face with the idea she will never see them again. her terrified face as she falls through the flowers is a beautifully haunting scene. the art and scenery are gorgeous, but the reality of the situation is awful. she has so much to live for and do, and yet it seems like there's no chance for her happiness at the moment. she was given a chance to save them but at the cost of her own life? i don't think she ever thought a moment like this could happen. after all, she always envisioned her reuniting with the dragons and live together again.

finally, seeing the dragons again made me so happy to know that they ARE, in fact, alive, but the scene after made me so anxious. becoming humans at the expense of yona's life isn't something nobody wants. even if zeno is willing to do anything to die, he says he needs to bring yona back to the real world. doesn't matter if zeno no longer sees himself as a part of yona's dragon family; at the end of the day, he will protect her.

zeno's face in this panel tells me he knows what happened to yona. this is one of the most anxiety-inducing cliffhangers we had in a while. i believe the series will end with everyone together, but i have no idea how yona will make it out of this. i'm assuming that zeno might put himself in a life or death situation to bring yona back. or perhaps it's yona herself that has to come back to earth.

this chapter was so insane but so amazing. i'm so excited and very scared for what comes next.

[imagobin]

🔯Zoldyck Family HCs🔯

I wish this had been explored more in the actual manga, because to me the Zoldyck family is one of the most intriguing things in HxH.

We did get this chart which is very interesting, but I wanted to expand on it with a couple more headcanons and speculations. Doesn't include Maha, Zigg or Grandma Zoldyck cause there's too little info on them (Seriously Zeno, where do you keep your wife?)

---

🪭Kalluto🪭

Starting with Kalluto because he's the youngest and also gets very little time to shine.

It is commonly agreed that he cares about Killua a lot and wishes he'd pay attention to him, and I think so too.

His relationship with Illumi is possibly one of mentor and apprentice, they go on missions together and Illumi supervises him to make sure he carries out assassinations properly, without toying with his victims too much.

We don't see him interacting with Milluki at all aside from flashbacks, but the two might have a pretty positive relationship. I think it still means a lot to Kalluto that his shut-in brother would take time out of his day to go on walks and play with him, even if that hasn't happened in a while.

As for his relationship with Silva and Zeno, I do like the idea of both father and grandpa being proud of Kalluto for mastering Nen at such a young age, though Silva might be a bit disappointed that Kalluto disobeyed him and became part of the Phantom Troupe.

---

🧸Alluka🧸

Such a sweetheart aaaa I wanna see more of her and Killua's future adventures.

Ever since her ability was discovered by the other members of the family, Alluka's either been used to get something (Looking at you, Milluki), or feared. Silva and Kikyo definitely fear her powers, and Zeno probably does too. Though... I have a weird feeling that unlike the rest of the family, Zeno would be like Killua and at least respect Alluka's pronouns, if she likes 'she/her', Zeno doesn't see the problem with referring to her as a girl.

I think Alluka on the other hand really wants to love the members of her family, despite how horribly they've treated her. She probably doesn't even understand why they all became so cautious around her at one point.

The only family member that Alluka does not like is Illumi for... pretty obvious reasons. Illumi isn't subtle at all with his desire to control her and her powers; plus, Illumi's hurt Killua the most, I don't think she could ever be okay with someone who's hurt her big brother so much (even by Zoldyck standards).

---

🪀Killua🪀

Not much to say about Killua since we see him interact with most of his family a bit more in-depth... aside from Kalluto-

Killua has definitely always favored Alluka over Kalluto, despite how much the youngest Zoldyck strives to get his attention. This is probably because of how close Kalluto is to his mom.

Killua finds Kikyo annoying, and definitely doesn't trust her, so since Kalluto spends a lot of time with their mother, by proxy, Killua can't bring himself to trust his younger brother either.

Aside from Alluka, whom he obviously trusts deeply, the other member of the family he trusts the most is probably his grandpa; Zeno clearly favors him and seems to be more supportive of Killua's choices compared to the rest of his family.

---

🎮Milluki🎮

Milluki my beloved, how I wish you weren't just the butt of a joke 90% of the time.

Physically speaking, he's probably the weakest Zoldyck besides Alluka, so he's most likely afraid of the other men in the family, and would definitely not want to get on their bad side.

He obeys and respects both Silva and Zeno, but I also think Milluki would like to be treated like Killua by his grandpa, that's why he shares his invention ideas with him; he wishes Zeno would praise him some.

Milluki is 100% a mama's boy, he cares about her so much, he definitely had the strongest reaction out of everyone when his mother's safety was threatened by Nanika's powers. Despite this, Kikyo doesn't seem to give him any particularly special treatment, again, that is reserved for Killua.

He's most definitely also the unlucky middle child, I think he was definitely put to the side once Killua was born; his family fully focused on Kil since he's the heir, and left Milluki to kinda do his own thing. I feel like this consequentially brought him to be jealous of Killua and all the attention he gets.

I swear he's even worse off than Kalluto, cause at least he's got his mother's love, Milluki's basically neglected even by Zoldyck standards.

---

📍Illumi📍

Man's the family's workaholic, you can't change my mind, he's also a little fucked up, but we love him for it.

He definitely cares about his whole family in his own twisted way. That includes Milluki too, they were the first two Zoldyck siblings so until Killua was born, they most definitely spent a lot of time together. Illumi doesn't really understand his brother, but he humors him.

His relationship with Kikyo is never really explored, but I see them as being definitely close, not as close as she is with Kalluto, but close. They share the same mindset when it comes to Killua. Illumi was also her first child, so she definitely poured her heart and soul into training him into being the perfect assassin, and it definitely shows.

Illumi's dynamic with his father and grandfather is definitely one of mutual respect, they may not agree on everything, but they trust each other's strength. Silva also appreciates Illumi's dedication to the family's business.

---

👒Kikyo👒

M'lady- okay no girl needs to take a chill pill, her fashion tho, on point.

Obviously her view of love is completely warped, growing up in Meteor City and marrying a world-renowned assassin didn't do her mental health many favors. But just like Illumi, she does love her kids deeply in a really twisted way.

She plays favorites, Killua and Kalluto are the ones she cares about the most, and with how dismissive of Milluki she is, he's probably her least favorite, kinda tragic since Milluki loves his mother a lot... but then we have Illumi, where does he stand? Kikyo cares about her first born child of course, she's very proud of him, and trusts him a lot with keeping Killua in check, since they seem to share opinions on how he should be trained. She wishes he'd spend more time with her for sure.

Her opinion however is way too often brushed off by Silva, not because she's a woman, but because she's not been raised like a Zoldyck, she doesn't fully know their ways, so she's not seen as a valid voice. It's an unfair treatment, and it really pisses her off.

---

☄️Silva☄️

True winner of the 'Father of the Year' award, along with Ging, great job you two.

Silva honestly has evil mastermind vibes, he cares about Killua, but also wants to constantly control him and test him in his own way (the needle was a massive proof of that). He's just a lot more subtle with it compared to Illumi and Kikyo.

He loves his wife, no doubt, even if he doesn't show it very often, I think the man is prone to small displays of love, and definitely shows it more with his actions than his words. (Him agreeing to let Alluka out of her room because he doesn't want Kikyo to die is definitely the biggest display of this we've seen canonically, he's aware of how dangerous Alluka's powers could be, but he still chose to risk the consequences of that over sacrificing his wife).

His relationship with his other kids is not really explored that much, but I believe he's mostly satisfied with all of them. I don't think he's super disappointed in Milluki either, but he definitely doesn't expect much of him, he does wish he'd take things more seriously.

---

🐲Zeno🐲

My favorite anime old man! I really wish people would pay more attention to him, he's cool as hell.

Zeno is probably the most chill man in the family, maybe cause he's old, but he's definitely the least likely to snap back at any of his family members.

He has a very strong set of morals, with him not wanting to cause any unnecessary deaths and all. I feel like because of this, he silently disapproves of Illumi's ways, especially regarding his Needle People, and the older brother's desire to control Killua.

Zeno doesn't really think much of Kikyo, he acknowledges her skills and such, but doesn't really go out of his way to interact with her. These two have definitely had their disagreements, mostly because Zeno tends to act on his own without consulting anyone, let alone her, which inevitably angers Kikyo.

He is quite proud of all his grandchildren, even if he's mostly focused on Killua. Much like Silva, he is happy that Kalluto mastered Nen at such a young age. He also sees more potential in Milluki, but wishes he was more committed to the family's business and used his genius to its full potential.

---

[writingwrench]

Kicking off her shoes, the girl sighed in relief. It had been another long twelve hour shift at the hospital. She slung her work bag onto her coffee table before collapsing onto the couch.

"Rough night?" Came her partner's voice from behind her.

"Extremely. We had a code blue and two call-ins," she replied, eyes closed, as Piccolo came around the corner to sit beside her. He was silent as she told him all about her night, sparing no details, which was almost unfortunate for the poor Namekian.

"Sounds tiresome," he said after a moment. She only nodded. She was so tired, but she had to bathe and get all that sweat and sickness off of her.

Almost as if he'd read her thoughts, Piccolo picked her up off of the couch. It was like she weighed nothing. She'd never get used to it. He carried her to the bathroom, where he carefully set her on the counter top.

He bent over the tub, turning on the water. Next he rummaged through the cabinet and pulled out bath salt. He sprinkled a decent amount into the pooling water, careful not to touch it. He found it easily dehydrated him and almost burned. His lover arched a brow at him quizzically.

Noticing her confusion he awkwardly cleared his throat and said, "I was told to 'pamper' you because of how hard you work."

"Oh?" she asked, even more puzzled. Piccolo barely took council from anyone that he didn't train with on the regular and the Saiyans weren't necessarily romantic (or Dende and Popo for that matter.)

"Chichi" he answered simply, shrugging a shoulder.

"Oh," she said. Piccolo and Chichi had gotten closer since Videl and Gohan had gotten married and had Pan. She was grateful that the human woman had taken a liking to him. Him practically living there with the Sons during the Android and Cell scare probably had a lot to do with it too. She was a good friend to Piccolo and taught him many human ways.

He stepped closer to her before carefully taking off her dark blue scrub top. Her skin turned to gooseflesh as the cold air hit her. Next he took off her bra, then her socks and finally her pants and panties. Last to go was the tie in her hair. His face was dusted with purple as he scooped her back up and deposited her into the warm, bubbly water. The woman let out an almost sexual moan as she instantly relaxed into the bath.

Blush darkening, Piccolo began to pour the water over her. She let out another moan and he almost stopped all-together.

He wasn't used to human romance, no matter how long they'd been together. He didn't display his affection often at all really. (Y/N) seemed fine with it, but Chichi had had other thoughts.

"You know," she'd said when he'd told her that this was (Y/N)'s third twelve hour shift in a row, " human women like to be pampered! You ought to physically show her how much she means to you before she gets tired of it!"

So, here he was, bathing her. 'Pampering' her. He didn't really get it, but his love seemed happy and honestly. he'd fight Zeno himself for her if he had to.

He gently began lathering soap into her beautiful (H/C) hair, making her eyes roll back in pleasure. He carefully rinsed it out, motioning for her to lay back into the water. She obliged, sighing happily. Piccolo quickly washed her, loving the serene smile on her lips.

After she was nice and clean he softly dried her off before using his clothing-beam on her. It was a gi exactly like his, but without the shoulder pads and shoes. (Y/N) smiled, loving that he decided to clothe her in his attire.

Piccolo picked the girl back up and took her to their kitchen where he set her down in a chair and began piling a plate high with rice, meat, and vegetables.

"What's all this?" she asked, eyes sparkling.

"Chichi also said you'd be hungry because you wouldn't get to eat much while at your job...so she taught me how to make something Goku liked to eat after training," he replied simply, setting the platter in front of her. The mountain of food was definitely enough to be an appetizer for a Sayain, but she was so hungry she finished half of it before she gave up.

"Thank you, Piccolo," she said softly, laying a hand on his. Tears pricked her eyes. He was amazing.

he smirked softly, before picking her up one more time and carrying her to their bedroom. He laid her on the bed, then reached over to their nightstand and got a squirt of lotion.

Gently taking her foot into his smooth but firm hands, he began to massage it.

"Oh, Piccolo!" she moaned, making his blush return.

He continued his rubbing before finally setting her feet down.

He rose, stripping off his gi top before crawling into bed beside her./ He kissed her mouth, before trailing it to her ear.

" Shall I continue?" He whispered, making her breath catch. Before she could question, she nodded.

He kissed her neck and used his clothes-beam to transport them off of her. She squealed in surprise, making his ears twitch.

He kissed down to her breasts, then further down where he plunged his head in between her thighs.

"Do you want me to continue?" He asked, slightly brushing his cheek against her leg.

She thought for a moment then shook her head.

"I'm so tired, love, I'd honestly rather sleep."

He nodded, quickly coming back up to hold her. She knew well enough to know that he wasn't disappointed, he just wanted her to feel loved and cared for. He was her safe space and as she drifted off to sleep in Piccolo's arms, she knew they were meant to be together, saving the world in their own ways.

[acesw]

Knowing our Arcanists 3: Lilya

Welcome to entry three of my series: "Knowing our Arcanists"! This is a series in which I introduce and tell the stories of our fellow characters in Reverse: 1999. Today our character is: Lilya!

Hilariously enough, I think that I was introduced to Lilya with the small fuss surrounding her representation as a character who was born during Soviet-era Russia. But I really found joy in her character despite being mainly known for her brash drunkard personality. However, lets get started.

Lilya is an arcanist born in Moscow, Russia during the era of the Soviet Union, somewhere in the late 20th century. While having no clear age listed in Global, she is infamously known for being labeled as being 17 years old in CN. That aside, I'm also not sure of what her arcane skill exactly is, but she's known to be as one of the greatest broom pilots produced by the Zeno Armaments Engineering and Technology Academy.

She's a very straightforward, prideful, and aggressive person. Notably a drunkard and a rule-breaker, she's a seasoned soldier and undoubtedly very skilled at what she can do as a pilot. Even does her best to upkeep her broom Su-01ве.

Have I mentioned that she's an alcohol enthusiast and will be found drinking most of the time? She started drinking at an early age which is somewhat hilarious in nature, but also a bit strange of her to be drinking so young. It becomes an integral part of her character. A flaw at best, but it can't really be taken from her now.

Lilya has always had a passion for flying growing up. She was one of the arcanists picked and sent to the eastern-dominated Zeno Academy, and trained relentlessly there throughout her years. She was well known to be a troublemaker, but an efficient broom pilot. Being one of the best of the best, she was given her broom at a young age as well, and touched upon her potential. Lilya became famous for her insane speeds, and slowly became more involved as an important unit. Eventually, she became a cadet in Zeno's Air Force Reserves, beginning to board on aircrafts at 14.

One of her first few missions led her to war-torn Juhalerat, a city in Central Asia, where she provided support for Lieutenant Bertholt, who was secretly tasked to retrieve confidential documents taken from the academy. To everyone else's knowledge, they were carrying out a rescue mission. This would be one of the first instances where she was heavily involved in war and artillery, as her mission has led to multiple gunfights and her first encounters with real death in front of her.

In the aftermath, she was interrogated for the events due to one of the surviving soldiers in that unit turning himself in for arrest, atoning for the death of another unit and a friend they made in that time. (despite his innocence)

The next event had Lilya involved in SPDM, where she and other pilots took care of the manus-produced olitiaus that were making trouble around the building as a means to attempt taking some children from the Foundation, and was also one of the last few obstacles that faced the breakaway kids from leaving the school. (yet as we know, she failed to do so)

She continued to train in Zeno, eventually graduating as "Graduate of the Year." She rose to her current position as a lieutenant and was greatly rewarded for such. She became such an exceptional individual that she had become an inspiration for cadets and low-ranking soldiers alike.

One of her most notable feats (or incidents) was when she intercepted a reconnaissance plane over the Barents Sea by herself. Its likely that this is based off of the story of the Sukhoi Su-27—named "Red 36"— intercepting a Norwegian Lockheed P-3 Orion over the Barents Sea, making collision with it after 3 passes. If that were the case, it would likely be why Lilya also nicknames her broom as the "Red 38" despite it being labeled as "Red 36." But that won't be delved into as of now.

Prior to the present, Lilya had accepted an unnamed position in the Foundation's headquarters, rarely sent out for missions but has been found to be drinking or training in Laplace often. She becomes involved again as she becomes an important character in Chapter 4, 5, and 7. In Chapter 4, she accepts Vertin's request to aid her newfound friends and also took her out of her coma in the Laplace Rehab Center, while in Chapter 5 she fought against the gorgon in the Aegean Sea in efforts to protect APPLe II before it was inevitably sunk. Lastly in Chapter 7, she brought home Apeiron's scroll back to Laplace amidst the oncoming "Storm."

While I already mentioned her brute personality, she's also capable of being insightful and caring. She puts a bit of care to those she considers as friends, and will make efforts to look after or spend time with them if she ever feels she could. For example, her relationship with Vertin from when they first met slowly grew into a close friendship; as Vertin gives Lilya some good alcohol she can find, and Lilya gives Vertin exclusive free flights on her broom. (and will also offer a drink)

To conclude, Lilya is a soldier familiar with the nature of war and makes effort into serving her duties as a soldier and pilot on the field. Don't let either her brashness or her ability to care fool you. Lilya is the Goddess of Victory after all, and she's not afraid to utilize her arsenal and her broom's artillery to pick a fight.

[kharia-adarkim]

Freedom

Fordola sighed as the telltale crimson hue of sunset crept into the prison halls. Pulling a stone from beneath her cot, she scraped another line into the wall. Five days since her last visit. Fordola sighed. The Warrior of Light's visits had become her one comfort in the prison cell. Each day for over a month since the Lakshmi incident, the two of them talked - about their childhoods, about recent news, about Kharia's forays into somanoutics. Sometimes their conversations had no words at all, and the two simply sat in each others' presence, sharing their feelings through the Echo. Kharia had been teaching her to control this power, to prevent her from being overwhelmed by it, and for that Fordola was grateful - being able to shut out the guards' contempt for her made the stay more tolerable. But like everything else, Fordola reasoned, even that bit of peace had to end. She sighed and laid on her cot, waiting for sleep to take her.

The vivid clank of keys echoing down the hall caused Fordola to lift her head, stirring from her near-rest. Her hopes faded as she heard the shuffle of four - no, five - pairs of feet proceed down the hallway. The footsteps were heavy, and carried the telltale jingle of mail. She silently cursed herself for getting her hopes up. Of course the slayer of Zenos had moved on. She was a fool for getting accustomed to the silver lining to this monotony.

"Fordola rem Lupus," a man declared to the bars of her cell. She looked up in confusion. It sounded like...

"Raubahn?" she sneered, "what're you wasting your time on me for? Finally time to let the mob have their way?"

"Many in the city have called for your head," Lyse replied.

"Indeed. But if we're to build a new Ala Migho founded on justice, we must resist the siren song of revenge," Raubahn continued. "Lyse, myself, and many others have spent many long nights discussing your sentence. Your crimes against the people of Ala Migho are many, and-"

"Oh stuff it," Fordola interrupted, "I've lost track of the days I've spent in this cell, and my only visitor's gone without a trace. Put me out of my bloody misery already." She glared at each of them in turn - Raubahn, M'naago, Lyse... As she locked eyes with the girl, Fordola's resonance flared, and she felt... smugness? Amusement? Was she enjoying Fordola's torment? "Well?!" she shouted. "Out with it! You're here to sentence me to death, is that it?!"

"No Fordola," Raubahn answered. "That may have been in the cards at one point, but you saved a great many lives from Lakshmi. It wouldn't be right to repay that kindness with death. Your sentence is not execution, but exile." Fordola stood silent in a mix of relief and confusion. Raubahn continued his speech. "We've someone waiting outside to escort you out of the city. Barring express invitation of the government of Ala Migho, beginning sunrise tomorrow, you are not to set foot upon her soil, nor will her laws protect you from those to whom this verdict may seem unsatisfactory." He nodded to one of the guards, who unlocked the door to her cell. Fordola simply stood in place, trying to reconcile her emotions. She'd spent her whole life fighting for a better future in Ala Migho, and upon Zenos's death, resigned herself to her own impending demise. What relief she may have felt on learning she was to live was soured by the knowledge that she had naught left to live for. Eventually, she shuffled from her cell with some prodding from the guard.

"Just so you know," M'naago hissed from behind as they began their walk to the surface, "I was against this. But you had someone unbearably persuasive in your corner. You owe her." Fordola's brow furrowed in confusion. A few minutes later, the vanguard opened the rear door of the prison, and Fordola and the others filed outside.

"Are one of you two my escort?" she asked the guards of their entourage, who ignored her as they unlocked her shackles. Fordola rubbed her sore wrists.

"No, that'd be me," a voice replied from nearby. Fordola looked to the source, and saw a small, bespectacled auri woman in an emerald gown. The woman kept a level gaze with her for a few moments before cracking a grin. "I told you I was going to get you out of that prison," Kharia smiled sadly. "I'm... sorry, that this is how it played out. I know how much Ala Migho means to you. But several of the officials involved were adamant that letting you free to roam the city would undermine trust in the new government. I hope you can forgive me." Kharia placed a hand on Fordola's shoulder. Though the woman's face was stoic, Kharia could feel the conflicted feelings poring over her through the echo. Knowing she'd never crack, especially in front of the likes of Lyse and Raubahn, Kharia pulled her into an embrace and whispered into her ear, "Let's get you home. A new home. With me." Fordola was quiet a moment.

"Fine," she answered softly, "let's get out of here." Kharia wiped the precious few tears from Fordola's face and waved to the Ala Mighans assembled.

"We'll be out of your hair now. Thank you." Kharia said to the others. M'naago rolled her eyes.

"It's not as if we could refuse a request from the one who freed our nation from the grip of the empire," Raubahn chuckled. "Safe travels."

"Have fun," M'naago growled, "I hope I never see you again."

"Mutual," Fordola answered, grabbing Kharia's wrist. "Let's get out of here."

[elliewiltarwyn]

FFXIV Write 2024 | #4: Reticent

Word Count: 423

Fourth Umbral Moon, 29th Sun

She asked me a question today. She has before, of course, but this one felt different somehow: “why me?”

I expressed confusion as to what that meant, and unfortunately that only seemed to make her more uncomfortable. It took a fair bit more needling to extract something I could work with - she’s as reticent as ever, extremely unwilling to give an ilm more than she thinks necessary. Which is understandable, if frustrating at times… But we got there eventually: why go so far out of our way for her sake? Why use the Light stored within Hydaelyn’s final gift to return her form? Why bring her back with us to the Source, instead of leaving her for the other voidsent to devour once she had become a liability to us?

“When have you ever been a liability?” I asked her in return, genuinely confused. “You’ve been naught but helpful, and sealing Scarmiglione and Barbariccia is honestly the least of it. Bringing you here, where you could recover much easier, was the least we could do for you after how much you’ve helped us.”

She didn’t quite seem satisfied with that, though. “The ledger runs deeper than that.”

I got it then: this was about Zenos. How he used her against us - against me, especially, in Ultima Thule. Surprising that she carried any amount of guilt over him - she didn’t seem the type for regret, especially over actions she had no control over.

“…I wasn’t,” was her reply when I brought that up. “It gnaws at me now, though, after several days in your world, under your wing. I do not know what has changed.”

“Clearly I’ve been rubbing off on you,” I teased, to which she pulled her hat down to cover her eyes once again.

It’s a half-joke, but it’s also… not not true, I think. I truly don’t bear her any ill will - she’s just as much a victim of Zenos’s depravity as the rest of us were. And I hope the way I’ve treated her since we found her has only served as further proof that I want to be her friend, for real, not by his definition.

I think it’s working. Even a few days ago, she’d have been too withdrawn and reticent to ask me such a question. She’s already made a lot of progress, and I am really eager to see more.

To what extent, though? That blush under her hat brim was no no no I am not going there dammit

[voidsentprinces]

Having gotten through the Rite of Succession arc of Dawntrail. I feel like, Stormblood really did itself a disservice by dividing it between Ala Mhigo and Doma. We could of gotten an expansion this strong for Lyse to grow into being a leader of the Revolution had they maintained focus and stuck with the regions of Ala Mhigo. How Garlemald's reign effects each region and understanding the history. By giving us an "Oh shit, you're not suppose to be able to free Ala Mhigo yet" 12% through and then sending us trouncing around Kugane, the Ruby Sea, Doma, and the Azim Steppe for 65% of the story. Before sending us back to Ala Mhigo and padding the ever loving shit out of the last 23% of the story. Really makes me angry, that Lyse didn't get the shot she could of had that Wuk is for Dawntrail.

It was not done right, in my eyes. And the improvement from Shadowbringers and Endwalkers narrative learning has shown me what they could of done with Stormblood. Which feels as rough around the edges as A Realm Reborn. And every time they bring back a character from Stormblood. They don't seem to really know what to do with them or they're caught in the condensced roughness of a Post-Patch where no one really gets to shine. Not even an Arc villain like Elidibus who mostly accomplishes everything off screen. (Though I imagine thats because of COVID so another example is Golbez just kind of being a nothing burger)

She should of gotten it similarly, Conrad or Meffrid should been allowed to slowly bring her to the larger regions of Ala Mhigo in its entirety. Learn of its people and beast tribes living in the realm and how they reflect on their relationship with the Mad King's reign, the uprising that followed, and how they have functioned for the last 20 years under Gaius's rule and how the recent arrival of Zenos and the increased presence of Fordola and her Skulls have oppressed them further.

But, Void, that would mean Doma would of had to wait for another expansion.

I hear you, but you know how Yoshi P is big about the sky as influence for a story? Well Stormblood was suppose to be colored by the afternoon and you know what comes between Stormblood's afternoon and Shadowbringer's night? Dusk. Doma could of been fully explored and realized with the addition of either larger Othard or Dalmasca as a point where we throw off Varis and fight him properly with Zenos defeated at the end of Stormblood. We could of still had Bozja which would continue our march to free regions from Garlean rule. This would of still allowed them to save Hingashi for later expansions as they seem to want to. And Dusk is the time between the nights coming and the days loss. The House of the Fierce operating in shadows now free to wander in the remaining light left by the freeing of Ala Mhigo previously, without Zenos to cause issues. We could of fought Varis, Asahi, Yotsuyu, and Elidibus through this expansion.

Just as the war machine starts boiling to ahead with Ghimlyt Dark we carry onto Shadowbringers and Endwalker in a similar fashion. Just as the world begins to ready to fully face off against the Garlean Capital. A new world is endangered by the revival of Emperor Solus who is, of course, Emet-Selch starting machinations in the First. We carry on as we do and of course, we never get to march on Garlemald because Zenos eventually reclaims his body, kills Varis, banishes Elidibus who we defeat on the First and Garlemald collapses in on itself.

It would of also of granted the Twins a wider area to bounce off of and with when they eventually bring what they've learned from Dawntrail back to the remnants of Garlemald and let them proceed wherever they're going with that.

But, hey, hindsight is 20/20 as they say. I just wish Lyse had gotten a better chance as Wuk Lamat and Erenville are getting cause...boy...Stormblood is ROUGH and Dawntrail is showing how far its grown to pull a similar arc with a similar character. Though I will admit that Dawntrail has the benefit of letting us explore each character in an era of long peace and not one of oppression and strife. So what do I know, eh?

[imagineanime2022]

Zoldyck Family Reacts To Kianna Being Pregnant

Illumi X Fem!OC, Milluki X Fem!OC, Killua X Fem!OC, Alluka X Fem!OC, Kalluto X Fem!OC, Silva X Fem!OC, Kikyo X Fem!OC, Zeno X Fem!OC

Requested: @nunezs-stuff

Request: Original Request

Illumi

📍 To be honest he didn’t have much of a reaction at first, the idea of pregnancy was something that was expected of him, so in a way he was happy but not for the right reasons at least not at first. 📍As things progressed and the pregnancy got further along to more protective he got and the more he realised that he wanted this for himself and not his family. 📍He spent more time at home than before, but that didn’t mean that he was taking on less work, it just meant that he was getting everything done much quicker so that he could get back home. 📍Literally pays people to make sure that Kianna is safe, Hisoka included, as much as he distrusted the man he was good at his job when he’s paid for it, though he warns him about getting too close. 📍The true weight of everything settles in when Yuki is finally born and he’s holding him. He saw how happy Kianna was to have him and realised that the small family was all that he needed.

Milluki

🦟 Milluki honestly did not care, it did not change anything that he thought about his life or the way that it would play out. 🦟 It did however change the way that he viewed his older brother and his girlfriend, as far as he was concerned they were the scariest pair that they had seen past his parents. 🦟 It honestly scared him that carrying the weight of another human didn’t stop Kianna from chasing him down and demanding whatever stash of snacks he had in his room that she wanted (probably where Yuki got the sweet tooth from). 🦟 Milluki was terrified of the mood swings so he often stayed out of the way, only ever appearing when it was absolutely necessary. 🦟 Like is said, nothing changed for him apart from the fact that he spent more time in his room (which he didn’t hate) and he had less snacks (which he definitely hated).

Killua

⚡ Killua was the one that seemed the most afraid of it but it wasn’t because he was worried about his place in the family or anything close to that. ⚡ He remembered the way that Illumi treated him and worried that his child would somehow be treated worse, it took a long time for him to talk to Kianna about it, mostly because she was never alone anymore. ⚡ However he did see the way that Illumi treated Kianna, he had to admit that his brother had changed but he still didn’t believe that the way that he trained his child would change. ⚡ Killua had even decided that if Kianna and Yuki needed it he’d come back and he’d be the one that protected them. He loved Kianna and wanted to keep her safe; this is something that he could do. ⚡ Killua came to terms with it, he wasn’t sure that he was happy with Illumi having a kid but ultimately it wasn’t his choice and he knew that so instead he would wait and see if he was ever needed.

Alluka

🎭 Alluka was happy about the idea of a baby and a bigger family, her understanding didn’t really go past that. 🎭 Alluka had no care for the structure of the family, she barely knew her brother past him wanting to use her as a weapon. 🎭 Alluka liked Kianna and assumed that she would raise a good child and even despite her own experiences, she could see that Illumi was different around Kianna. 🎭 Alluka didn’t have to worry too much about Kianna because she wasn’t around her very much but if she ever was with her she was careful, not that she was anything different when she was with Kianna before. 🎭 Alluka just didn’t see the importance of it all, she still had a lot to learn about the world and honestly she didn’t think about it too much.

Kalluto

🪭 Kalluto was actually excited, this would be the first baby in a long time and it would be the first time that he’d be able to properly remember someone growing up from baby to adult. 🪭 Kalluto loved having Kianna around more, Illumi had her on the grounds more than usual and Kalluto was usually the one that would be around to help her out. 🪭 He’d often get whatever Kianna wanted when Illumi wasn’t there to make sure that everything was taken care of. 🪭 He worried about Kianna towards the end of the pregnancy considering she was in pain, but she constantly told him that it was normal. He had never seen a pregnancy before so everything was new and concerning. 🪭 Kalluto was quiet, careful and efficient whenever he was with her, making sure that Kianna was properly cared for no matter what she needed.

Silva

🟣 Silva was only interested in one thing and that was the parent that he was going to take after. He wanted to know the ability that the baby would share with his parents. 🟣 He kept Kianna healthy and safe considering she was carrying the baby of one of the members of the Zoldyck family, he expected the baby to give him something in return after all it was Illumi’s son. 🟣 He expected a sort of dedication to the family once the child was born to pay back for everything that he was giving. 🟣 During this time, it was the most the Silva had really spoken to Kianna, going as far as asking her how she was feeling, even if he had no intention of listening or caring about the answer he was given. 🟣 Silva did no more than what he deemed necessary, he wanted a strong, healthy new member to the family and that was all.

Kikyo

👒 She worried to say the least, with Killua being as aloof as he was there was all the chance that someone more dedicated could be picked for the family head, and there was all the chance that it could be Illumi’s child, should the genes favour him. 👒 She became even more worried when she found out that it was a boy, no word of a lie contemplated orchestrating some kind of accident, she never ended up doing it though, knowing that if it failed that she would be worse off. 👒 You would have thought this would be the time that they both ended up bonding but instead it seemed to push them further apart, she almost seemed jealous. 👒 It gets worse the further into the pregnancy Kianna gets, it was a problem she could do nothing about and yet no one else seemed to see it. 👒 When the baby was born and took after his parents in features and ability, she was relieved, she no longer had to worry about Killua’s place in the family and could go back to ignoring that Kianna even existed.

Zeno

🐉 Zeno was actually excited about the new addition to the family, in part because of the new power but also because the family was expanding. 🐉 I truly think that given his age Zeno appreciates the dedication that each of his grandchildren show towards the family, there were still other things that should be focused on in life and he hoped that the rest would follow the example of their older brother. 🐉 He presented the baby with a family trinket as the first of the next generation of Zoldyck’s, nothing fancy but something to commemorate the occasion. 🐉 Zeno did see it as part of his duty to look after Kianna when he was at the house, given the fact that he was one of the strongest members of the family. 🐉 Zeno wanted to welcome the baby into the family and allow them the life that each of the others have had, nothing more and nothing less.

Request Here!!

[laspocelliere]

Day Eleven: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Hades had loved once before.

She’d come into his life like summer rain and autumn sunsets, bubbling over with an infectious energy that swept him up and carried him beyond what he’d thought possible. She was power, and beauty, and laughter, and she was his, she was his, she was his. And he was hers in return, completely and irrevocably, his soul tied to hers in ways that defied all reason so he no longer wondered where he began and ended; it was only her, ever her, the two of them together and facing the world even as it threatened ruin.

Until she was gone.

Until she left him, and he stood alone in ashes.

He would never love again.

—

Zenos had loved once before.

While he couldn’t be certain what love felt like, he knew bliss, and reason, and that was close enough for him to grasp tight, squeezing the sensation until he could compress it in his palm, hard as stone and twice as indestructible. 

The elation he’d felt – that she’d given him – was something that couldn’t be replicated. He felt it in every blow dealt, in every drop of blood spilled. Finally, giving way to her base instincts, he’d seen the truth behind her eyes, and had bathed in it blissfully. Her rage, her indignation, her utterly beautiful broken heart; she bared it all to him in that moment, and he wanted nothing less than to take it from her once more, to share that adrenaline rush that came only with combat, and death.

Without her, life was once more meaningless.

He would never love again.

—

The Exarch had loved once before.

She was young, but he was younger, and his infatuation had only grown once she was gone. He remembered a hero, strong and true, with a reservation behind her eyes that he felt a desperate, deeply-embedded need to unravel. The mystery of her haunted him through the years, decades beyond their meeting, and far longer than he ever could have anticipated. He devoured stories about her, frantic for any mention of her name, or her titles, no matter how fragmented the document, or how badly passed-down the story. She consumed his thoughts, and so he consumed her story, taking her name and making it sacred, as it should have been from the start.

When he arrived on the First, he kept his eyes hidden, refusing to meet the gaze of anyone who wasn’t her – his long-awaited, storied hero, finally brought back to him across time and space, no matter the cost.

He’d heard talk about his romantic interests, but they were nothing. He would wait, and when the time was right, he would call her to his side.

He would never love again.

—

She came back wrong, and Emet-Selch hated her for it. 

Her soul was perfect, that much was plain to see. It was what it had arrived in that he held issue with; this woman who dared to claim her own individuality over that of his beloved, who had the audacity to separate herself from who she was, no matter how hard she fought. She looked at him with those piercing eyes, and he told himself he felt nothing. She wept, alone in her room and alone in her burdens, and as he watched from the shadows he told himself he felt nothing.

She faced him, naked sword in hand, bound together with the strength of his Azem and her own might combined, and felled him in a movement that he thought he’d been waiting for for a long, long time.

Then he was gone, but the memory of her stayed.

And when the time came that she needed him, desperately, he would come.

He would never love again.

But he loved her anyway.

—

Zenos came back wrong, and she hated him for it.

Her hatred fueled him, serving only as coals to flame the fire of his determination. She loathed him with a passion that kindled his own, his very own mirror working in tandem to him even as she denied their bond. She consumed his every thought, waking and nightmare and anywhere in between, her very essence calling out to him to reunite once more in that moment of unity and life that no other living creatures could possibly experience together. 

He allowed the presence of the Ascian, and he gathered aether, and he honed his blade for her supple flesh, and he waited.

Somewhere along the way, he’d identified that what he felt wasn’t love. Love, as an emotion, was fragile and meaningless, and far beneath any descriptor of what he was offering his hero in exchange for his devotion to her in combat. Love, after all, wasn’t something he cared to experience.

And yet it was still the only word that seemed to fit.

He would never love again.

But he loved her anyway.

—

When G’raha Tia returned to the Source, he began to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the only one who was different.

He’d spent so many centuries poring over his hero’s name that somewhere along the way he’d turned her into something mythical, even beyond what she’d managed on her own. When he’d summoned her to the First, she wasn’t the young adventurer he’d explored the Crystal Tower with in his youth. Something had irrevocably changed in her, something that couldn’t be defined in history books.

Or maybe he hadn’t been looking hard enough the first time.

With the sensation of carefully closing away a precious relic, or a childhood security, he tucked away his affections for the Warrior of Light, somewhere alongside his Exarch cowl and his penchant for theatrics. The girl he loved no longer existed; instead, there was a woman who had fought for worlds, with the weight of millions on her back, and had won. And that, too, was worthy of loving, even if it wasn’t a fraction of what he’d known before.

He would never love again.

But he loved her anyway.

—

Aymeric hadn’t understood love.

Through his life, he’d encountered facets of it, like reflective shards of a precious jewel. His adoptive parents, his comrades in the Holy See, the goddess Halone, the people of Ishgard, the rough beauty of Coerthas itself. He’d tried to understand it, an affection-starved child growing into an equally starved man, spending a lifetime finally understanding that there were certain things that some people weren’t entitled to have. Love, it seemed, was only for the worthy.

And then she’d walked into his life, and turned everything he thought he knew asunder. 

She was quiet, and she was strong. She was bright, and she was stubborn. She was the break of sunlight over the mountains, the shaft of moonlight filtering through stained glass, the wild beauty of the distant pines, the warm comfort of a private hearth. She was the air he breathed, the standard he held himself against to make himself worthy of her. She held as many walls around her heart as he did, and she was braver than anyone he’d ever known, because she lowered them for him, even through her sharp, bracing fear, that she then allowed him to hold in his hands, trusting him not to let them loose.

Aymeric didn’t understand love, any more than any man.

But what he had, he would give to her, and give to her, and give to her, to make up for all that she was starved of. And he would expect nothing in return.

He loved her, and he would never love again.

He would simply love better, every day that she breathed.

[tritoch]

miscellaneous wol characterization thoughts post-dawntrail

since wolund is supposed to be as close to canon wol as possible i think about this stuff a lot. huge spoilers through the end of 7.0. non-exhaustive list

we're WAY more chilled out now. very consciously avoiding combat or taking up arms until absolutely necessary. in retrospect you could sort of tie that back as far as the endwalker patches so maybe my new canon is now just that wolund lays down his sword after the zenos fight. we're done looking for new fights because we fought our greatest rival at the end of existence in a place made real by our willpower and where we were strengthened by our emotions. the conflagration of our clash scorched even the stars--and now we are kind of burned out!

there's a recurring thing where alisaie keeps saying you should take a break when you've not done any more work than the rest of the team, and there's also the moment where she's like "oof okay. i guess you gotta go into living memory. aight :\" and i think that's fun. as far as scions go this was really her and g'raha's expansion emotionally.

so much of the wol's stuff here is about what you don't do or say. you don't step in during the bakool ja ja fight, either the kidnapping or the wuk lamat fight. during valigarmanda, you very pointedly don't talk about prior experiences fighting primals or even your experience with the auspices, because this is wuk's big moment and you've gotta let her have it. you don't ever draw direct comparisons to emet-selch or other things with wuk lamat when sphene comes up because you're letting her figure things out herself. we've evolved from hot-blooded hero to wizened mentor, and we've gone sharply back to a heavensward-ish number of dialogue options. we're VERY quiet.

the gulool ja ja fight really is the one time you cut loose! and you're explicitly denied the chance to test yourself against him in his prime 1 on 1. there's a subtle undercurrent that basically every single fight in dawntrail is kind of "beneath" the wol in the sense that it doesn't require their exclusive attention in the way that Only You Could Fight Meteion, even if you're clearly the strongest combatant and wuk lamat says they couldn't have beaten zoraal ja without you. no one except gulool ja ja really takes your full measure in this expansion. i think a g'raha-level fighter probably could have helped the wuk lamat team clear everything just fine, and he's definitely supposed to be below you and estinien level even if he's an all-rounder.

that kind of denial of anything truly satisfying on the wol's level...seems very intentional? it's interesting that after the credits you're explicitly like "yeah i'm gonna be outta here soon." shadowbringers you had to resolve the scion's dimension hopping problems, endwalker cuts you off before you can say what's next, but here you're like "yeah this was fun but honestly not that big a deal to me. i like you and i know you think of me as surrogate family after losing your dad and mom and brother but i am in fact gonna bounce." the key is obviously more immediately interesting to the adventurer than anything about tural.

oh my god. oh my god wolund is already a deadbeat dad to a young woman in her 20s. he's gonna ditch wuk lamat too. my god what an asshole. this is so fucking funny.

i think i'm gonna go back and have wolund be a scholar as early as 6.1 and see how that changes things for me. i think i'll find it a lot more satisfying if i'm like "he came to tural because he's done fighting" instead of the "he now loves fighting even more" i'd been carrying through endwalker patches.

[lyricalive]

We spend our whole lives waiting for the stars to align, but maybe it's already happened.  The fated alignment of me, and her, and me.

——Say, Renko.  Have you ever heard the legend of the purple mirror?

幻想惑星直列 〜 Phantasmal Syzygy

#01  The Mystery in Your Town

    – "11:59:55..."

    – "Huh?"

    – "And there it is, 12 o'clock!  Happy birthday, Merry!"

My name is Maéreverie Hearn, but I've become far more used to the nickname given to me by my club partner.  On top of nearly forgetting my own name, I'd also nearly managed to forget my own birthday.  Between odd course schedules and late-night excursions, it's a bit hard to keep track of the days.

    – "Oh, so it is."

    – "Hm...  Even though I say 'happy,' you don't look too happy about it."

My partner, Renko Usami, rests her cheek upon her fist as she sees through my forced smile.  I wave my hand dismissively at her concern.

    – "Well, it's not like I was born at exactly midnight.  No need to celebrate prematurely."

    – "What time was it, then?"

    – "How should I remember?"

    – "Do you happen to have a photo of your birth?  Maybe I can tell from the sky."

    – "I wasn't born out in the wilderness, you know!"

The special ability of Renko's unusual eyes is to tell the exact time by looking at the stars and the exact location by looking at the moon.  Studying photographs for this information is how we've gotten our leads for various occult investigations, but there are limits to its practical usage.

Even so, I treasure those eyes very much.

She goes on for a bit, pestering me to call my family overseas to ask for this trivia, which I defiantly refuse.  Any contact with them feels like a distant past that I have no wish to go back to.  I moved to this faraway country for a reason.  That reason was to learn more about my own unsettling eyes, something I always expected to do quietly and alone until Renko came along.

It's surprising to think that's it's only been three years... or three years already.

#02  Higan Retour ~ Riverside View

Three years ago.

It was shortly after our trip to the ghostly field at Rendaino, where we got our first glimpse of another world together.  On the heels of this, one of our earliest successes, Renko had insisted that we carry on the momentum full-force.

She decided to investigate a certain abandoned shrine that cropped up a lot in her stash of old photos.  Her source for these photos seemed sketchy to me at the time, though there's plenty of evidence for their validity by now.

I remember the silhouette of the shrine building, looming just a short way back over my shoulder.  Surrounded by trees and moonlit darkness, Renko pulls me along by the hand, as she always does.  Then she suddenly stops, narrowing her eyes at the moon in the sky.

    – "The area here is so strange.  We've been walking for almost an hour, but we've barely changed location."

    – "Are you sure you're not just navigationally challenged?"

    – "What are you talking about?  I'm a human GPS!"

    – "You're also a human clock, yet you were late to our meeting today."

    – "Touché."

I used to be rather harsh with my teasing, didn't I?  Nowadays, she's usually the one who teases me instead.

    – "Still, it feels odd to me too.  Hakurei Shrine…  We keep cycling back to it somehow."

    – "Hey, Merry.  Do you know about Zeno's paradox?"

    – "Zeno's paradox?  The name sounds familiar."

    – "It has to do with the infinite nature of limits... the phenomenon of getting closer to the goal, but never reaching it.  I strongly suspect that's what's happening here."

    – "Are you saying this barrier is impossible to cross?"

Renko shakes her head with the absolute confidence I've since come to expect from her.

    – "Of course not.  Not for us, anyway."

The sparkle in her eyes as she says this is as bright and vivid as a dream.

Despite her confidence, we didn't end up solving the mystery that day.  That's usually how our club adventures go.  We spent some time searching the shrine, and we took home a souvenir that we found in the ruins for further study.  Just a small hand mirror, silver-rimmed, not particularly valuable.

But for its own sake... it was fun.  Although we couldn't get close to our destination, I think it brought the two of us closer.  And with that, subtly, something important shifted in my perception.

    – "Let's keep searching together, until we find it!"

No matter who or what may be manipulating the distance, the other side must exist somewhere.  There's a part of me that wants to get there, no matter what.  And there's also a part of me that doesn't want the search to end.

It's as if Renko brings forth a new definition of "dream."

Come to think of it, it was rather soon after this excursion that I started experiencing my first strange dreams…

#03  Gensokyo, Past and Present ~ Flower Land

    – "Is there anything you want as a birthday present, Merry?"

    – "Yes, there is.  An eight-tier cake with gourmet chocolate and genuine fruit toppings."

    – "Darn.  I think our local café is fresh out…"

With a smirk, Renko turns the joke on me as expected.

    – "Hee-hee, I'm just kidding.  I don't need anything in particular."

    – "Aw, don't give me that.  There must be something."

I put my hand to my chin and think a little more deeply.  What is it that I want…?

To be honest, the certain circumstances of today have made me somehow anxious about getting through the night.  So, as mawkish as it may be, the best gift that I could receive is just the comfort of her presence.

    – "Well… I suppose it would be nice if we shared a good dream tonight."

It hardly sounds like a request worthy of a special occasion.  I can visit dreams at any time.

In fact, it's grown increasingly natural to visit this one particular world every time I close my eyes.  Overflowing fields of golden flowers… cool air stirred by a wind god's wings… the sound of younthful fairies' laughter… and bright sparks of fireworks even against the daylight sky.

Whenever I think about it, this is definitely where I want to be.  It's such an amazing place that I could almost lose myself in it.  I could almost forget to wake up.

That is, until I remember Renko waiting for me in reality.  It's awfully ironic that Renko was the one who inspired me to be so interested in my own dreams, by showing me how much fun they can be to chase.  Yet she's also the reason I fear them most—the fear of being apart from her.

Then, the ideal dream is one where she and I can explore it together.  That's what makes this request special.

Maybe it's selfish of me to want the best of both worlds.  My heart aches to imagine ever having to choose.

Of course, if it came down to it, my choice would be…

    – "Let's do that!  It would be my pleasure!"

I smile at her earnestness, and wonder why we don't take advantage of this method far more often.  It's as simple as holding her close while we sleep, placing my hands over her eyes...

As soon as we turn out the lights, the mood of the room shifts.  We lay down on our sides, and I feel the curve of her warm body against mine.  I slip my arms past her waist, bending them up toward her face, and rest the palms gently on her eyelids.

And so, as Renko and I go to sleep together that night, we share a dream.

However... in the world we see, there are no fireworks, no fields of flowers or fairies playing.

There is only, against a twilight sky, a strange woman with a parasol standing before a vaguely familiar shrine gate.

#04  Eternal Spring Dream

Three days ago.

During one of many perfectly average meetings set in the clubroom of our university, Renko and I are engaged in conversation.  Because it's only the two of us in such a wide room, the space between the walls seems cavernous, like even a whisper would echo all the way across.

    – "I've been doing more research on the dream realm."

    – "Research, meaning...?"

    – "These notes."

Of course, she means the thorough collection of notes that can be sourced back to the Secret Sealing Club of a former era.  They were originally digital files, but Renko had printed them out for the convenience, and perhaps for the aesthetic, of tactile experience.  For a modern girl, she has some surprisingly old-fashioned values.

    – "Is it that theory again?  About the dream self?"

    – "It is.  Supposedly, every person alive has a corresponding dream self."

She straightens her tie with nimble fingers and prepares to explain.

    – "The dream self is almost identical to the person it belongs to—except that it carries their deepest and most repressed wishes, which explains how unrestrained people act in their dreams."

    – "Essentially, it's a self with fewer boundaries."

I have to chime in, because she's overstepping my specialty a bit.  The psychology of the self is something I've studied a lot.  Of course, it's a study that tends to lead fruitlessly in circles.

A person's unique consciousness is born from their choices under free will.  At the same time, people have thoughts that they choose not to act upon, which remain within the subconscious.

But because those hidden thoughts and wishes do exist, there must also exist some quantum reality in which the person consciously chooses such thoughts.  So, the person who would have been born from the choices which you didn't make, but which you could have made... but which you did make, sometime and somewhere...  Calling this a different person is pure semantics, right?

Well, I suppose that the quantum entanglement of multiple possible realities is Renko's specialty, too.  So I let her continue.

    – "Something like that.  This similar yet distinct entity is the one who actually experiences the physical events in the dream realm."

    – "I'm not sure if I follow.  In the first place, I still have scars on my own body from things that happened in my dreams."

    – "Exactly.  So here's the question raised by that contradiction:  Assuming there is supposed to be a different body taking the hits for you…  Where exactly is it?  Where is your dream self?"

    – "Ah, I see...  Maybe my dream self is off playing hooky somewhere, and I'm being forced to take her place."

    – "Right.  It really would explain a lot about the way you experience dreams compared to everyone else!"

    – "Oh, but you know me.  I'm so well-behaved.  No version of me would ever be so irresponsible."

    – "Ha ha!  I'll give you credit; that was a good joke."

    – "You aren't supposed to laugh that quickly!  How rude."

Despite protesting, I giggle along with her.  Within a few minutes, though, her expression grows serious again.

    – "There's also another way of looking at it."

    – "What's that?"

    – "Think about it, Merry.  What is it that you always say?"

    – "…"

    – "'Dreams and reality are the same.'  If this is your objective truth, then..."

    – "Then, my dream self is..."

Just me...?

    – "Crazy, right?  I still think there's got to be some consistent logic to dreams.  But the way your dreams work doesn't make any sense.  If only one person in the whole world could be an exception to the rule, it's you."

Renko flips the page of printed materials, eyes wildly scanning it all over.  I don't really know what to make of all these theories right away, so all I can do is look down at the documents.

Most of the text on the pages is typewritten, as if on a word-processing application.  But there are a few lines scribbled along the side of the document in very messy handwriting, perhaps via a tablet's touch screen.  I've never focused on those lines before.

I tilt my head to try and make out the words, which Renko doesn't seem to be acknowledging as anything but random symbols.

    – "Purple... mirror."

    – "What's that, Merry?"

    – "Mm, nothing."

The words that I was casually reading didn't mean anything to me at the time.  But they lingered in my mind long enough that I decide to type them into a search engine that night.

...A terrible choice.  The search results send a chill down my spine.

Which brings me back to my terribly anxious feeling on the present day.

#05  Charming Domination ~ Who Done It?

We awaken from our dream.  With a heavy exhale, my bedfellow stretches her arms high in the air, rustling the pillows beneath us.

Unfortunately, I didn't enjoy the dream as much as I hoped I would.

    – "She was there.  A beautiful woman with blonde hair.  You saw her, right?"

I rub my cloudy eyes as I try my best to recall the image.  In the dream, we had tried to approach the woman, at Renko's insistence.  But no matter how far we walked, we never seemed to get any closer.  It was as if the stone path at our feet were a travelator conveying us in the opposite direction.

Her demeanor dark and solemn, the woman didn't seem to acknowledge us at all.  Eventually, she folded her parasol without a word and vanished into the shadows.

    – "You say beautiful, but she seemed pretty nasty to me."

    – "What do you mean, nasty?"

Most disgusting, the parts of yourself that you don't want to see.

    – "..."

I open my mouth to speak.  But the words that had come to mind are so unintelligible, I have no reason to say them.  These intrusive thoughts have been bothering me more and more lately, and I can't understand where they're coming from.

    – "There was an aura of elegance and mystery.  She was so captivating; I couldn't take my eyes off of her."

    – "All right already.  You don't have to obsess about her."

Renko laughs, a sharp and carefree laugh.

    – "Merry, don't tell me you're jealous."

    – "Huh...?"

My cheeks grow warm at the accusation.  Is that really what I'm feeling?  How silly, to be jealous of an image from a dream...  Surely, that's all she is to Renko.

The problem is that I sensed something off about her... in a much different way than anything else.  Her expression as she stood before us in that dream was difficult to read.  Lonely?  Somber?  …Menacing?  I couldn't trust her.  Or maybe that's just my excuse.  I pout stubbornly.

    – "You know, she kind of reminded me of you.  But don't worry.  It can't beat the real thing."

'Real'...  It's always such a funny word to hear.  I don't think I'll ever quite wrap my head around just how she uses it.  After all, to me, dreams and reality are the same.

That makes this scary person all the scarier.

#06  Yorimashi Between Dreams and Reality ~ Necro-Fantasia

    – "Hmph!  I'm telling you, I don't think that person and I had anything in common."

I feel the need to exaggerate this, in order to make myself feel better.

    – "Eh?  Take a look in a mirror.  I swear it was your eyes, mostly, that seemed so similar."

Never one for talk without action, she quickly begins scavenging around for a mirror.  Conveniently, there happens to be one resting in the top drawer of the bedside dresser.  I recognize the object that she withdraws.

    – "Oh.  That's the magic item we used at the bar."

Our riskiest club activity to date, we had visited a shady tavern and entertained its patrons with visions of other worlds, reflected right in this silver mirror.

    – "Well, we told them it was a magic item, but it's just an old relic we borrowed from a shrine a long time ago."

    – "Borrowing something usually means you bring it back at some point."

    – "Irrelevant.  The point is, it was only magic because of your abilities.  You can use it for everyday purposes too."

I wonder about her words as I glance into the mirror.  The picture is blurry at first, maybe because I'm still drowsy from sleep.  I try my best to focus.

Staring into the glass, I recognize the shape of my face, round cheeks thinning into a dull point.  Wavy blonde hair falls over my thick eyebrows.

And below that... Renko often compares my eyes to a kaleidoscope.  Changing with the light at different times of day, the color is always a surprise, even to me.  Bright gold, vivid red, calm blue.  I widen them for a clearer analysis, letting the light absorb into them.

Right now, the deep color I see is...

 I am you, but you are not me.

No.  Something's not right.

My fingers began to tremble in a way I can't control.  Instinctively, I draw in a sharp gasp of breath.

    – "Ah, careful!"

Renko's arms wrap around mine, her tight grip steadying the object before it drops.  I let out my held breath in a dramatic rush as I jolt my head in her direction.

She's gazing back at me.  The moment that I can see myself reflected in her own dark brown eyes instead of in the mirror, somehow, it calms me down.  I relax against her grip.

    – "…Thank you.  I don't know what got into me."

She removes the glass from my hands and places it safely back on the dresser before leaning in for a peck on my forehead.

    – "Never mind, Merry.  On second thought, it's like... the difference between a binary star and an optical double."

    – "Huh?"

    – "In celestial astronomy, two bodies may seem to overlap, even though they're actually be very far apart."

    – "By that, you mean..."

    – "You and the dream-you aren't even comparable after all."

Her analogies are roundabout, but her logic is straightforward as ever.

    – "Mm.  Well, congratulations on your good taste."

#07  Romantic Escape Flight

It's the morning after our dream, the morning of my birthday, and classes will be starting in a few hours.  There isn't a single part of me that feels motivated to do something as mundane as listen to lectures.  I linger idly in front of the closet as Renko uses my bathroom to brush her teeth.

From the rack, I choose a dress in my typical style, which is a rather atypical style for our era.  Living chronologically is overrated, isn't it?  The charming frills and lavender color are timeless, in my opinion.  I'm not thinking very deeply about it at the moment, though, as I half-heartedly pull the collar over my head.

    – "Backwards, Merry."

    – "Eh?"

    – "You're a grown adult now.  The only ones allowed to wear their clothes reversed are little kids and reflections in the mirror."

    – "Very funny."

Renko, finished with her own preparations, hovers behind me with an air of that playful tone I know her for.  I immediately pull my arms back through the sleeves and adjust my mistake.  But by the time I finish flipping my hair out of the collar and glance back at Renko, her tone has shifted.

    – "Hey, ever since last night…  No, even before then, you've been a little off.  There must be something big on your mind."

Renko is always very physically observant of her surroundings, but she picks only the strangest times to be emotionally observant as well.  In this case, she isn't wrong.  I must be making it all too obvious.

    – "Sort of.  Say, Renko…"

Have you heard the legend of—

Wait, no!  That's not what I want to say.  It's the very last thing I want to say!

    – "Huh?"

    – "Ugh, I'm sorry.  It's… something I really can't talk about."

Even as they leave my mouth, I know I've chosen the wrong words.  These words will only pique Renko's curiosity all the more.

    – "But we're partners, aren't we?  You can tell me anything!"

    – "It's not that I'm trying to keep a secret.  It's... complicated."

    – "I'm pretty smart, you know.  Maybe I can help figure it out."

I know.  The problem is she's so studious that, if I mention it, she'd certainly start researching it immediately.  Renko is someone who believes that all knowledge is good.  But I've read enough horror stories to know that the most curious one is always the first to fall.

    – "I'll tell you tomorrow, all right?  I promise.  Today, I really need to clear it from my mind."

Renko blinks a few times before her lips curve into a frown.  She beholds me with a somewhat pitying expression, clearly not understanding how I could be so negative on such a positive day.  She reaches up gently and rests one hand on my right shoulder.

    – "Merry.  Could it be... you're afraid of getting older?"

#08  Voyage 1970

Am I afraid...?  Is that part of why I've been feeling so strange?  Twenty years isn't even all that old in our modern era where such long lifespans are possible.

Besides, age is just a number.  It's always been difficult for humans to come to a consensus on when a person has fully matured.  The age of attending school, the age of drinking alcohol—all of these things change with society.  And yet, based on the development of the brain, modern psychology still might not consider me an adult.

I believe, and my partner would surely agree, that the best measure of life is by the knowledge we gain and the experiences we have.  If that's the case, shouldn't I be excited to grow up?

Well, it's not that simple.  The state of the body, the state of the mind, and the state of the world that continues to change with time all affect the opportunities to experience things.  If I'm being honest, my ideal might be to freeze time and remain on this very boundary of childhood of adulthood, where it seems like every opportunity is offered at once.

Oh.  Renko asked me a question, didn't she?

    – "Not at all~  I've decided, I'm going to be eternally seventeen."

My partner's grin returns.  She seems satisfied with my genuinely positive answer.

    – "Seventeen, huh?  Nice choice.  You'll have good physical fitness, and you'll never see a single gray hair."

    – "That's not really why...  Seventeen was freshman year.  That was my age when we met.  It was an interesting year for me."

The year of our partnership.  The year of our first club activity.  The year of my first strange dream.  My life changed so much.  It began to feel like the life I want.

    – "Then, let's keep living it!"

At her words, I feel a mischievous smile cross my lips, boosting my spirits.  Though I didn't know it before, I realize that this is exactly what I hoped to hear from her.

I want to keep living it right now.

    – "…Hey, Renko.  Are you up for playing hooky today?"

[Intermission]  Last Occultism ~ Esotericist of the Present World

You there.  The one who is so interested in urban legends.

...Hm?  There's no need for that frightened face.  The incident has been long resolved, so I'm not angry with you anymore.

In fact, in exchange for all the fascinating tales you brought to us, I simply wanted to offer you one to take back home in return.

Have you heard the legend of the purple mirror?

Here is a small warning in advance:  Those under a certain age, you might want to cover your ears now.

Oh, my, did that make you all the more intrigued?

This story is about a sickly girl, who spent most of her life being treated for her strange illness.

When she was young, her parents gave her a gift—a beautiful antique hand-mirror that had been passed down for generations.  She always carried it with her, and treasured it dearly.  When she looked in the mirror, despite the unpleasant effects of her ailments on her body, she was able to see herself as beautiful.

However, one morning, just short of her 20th birthday, she found that the metallic rim around the glass had been painted purple.  She had no recollection of making this change herself.  But those around her had witnessed her in the act, eyes focused, paintbrush in hand.  They had even heard her give a very clear reason in her own words—simply, "I love the color purple!"

Having no recollection of the trancelike state in which she had done this, the girl was frightened.  Her illness began to worsen, and her mental state began to deteriorate.  From then on, when she looked in the mirror, she no longer saw herself as beautiful.

What did she see instead?  That much is unclear, but it can only be assumed that it was something far more terrifying.  In her impulsive fear, she threw the mirror to the ground and smashed it to pieces.  No longer was she able to see anything at all.

The day before what would have been her coming-of-age ceremony, she locked herself in her room, repeating the words, "Purple mirror.  Purple mirror.  Purple mirror"—over and over again.  Ah, how her loved ones blustered with concern!  But alas, there was no longer anything they could do to help.

These were the last words ever heard from the sickly girl.  She passed away in her sleep before she could ever see her 20th year.

Through the intense feelings of this young woman, these words now carry a strong curse.  Just by hearing them, dear listener, I'm afraid you are also in danger.  It is said that, if one still remembers this story by the time of their 20th birthday, they shall suffer the same premature fate.

The moral of the story is…  Oh.

Why, how embarrassing.  I seem to have completely forgotten my own point.

I'll leave it to you.  What do you think is the lesson here?

#09  Eternal Shrine Maiden

    – "Hakurei Shrine.  It seems like fate keeps leading us back here."

We're lucky to have caught a train that got us all the way up to the mountain within the hour.  We had a small bit of hiking to do, just like last time.  I end up less winded, so I must have gotten a bit more in shape over these few years of excursions.

Still, no amount of stamina could clear this endless path.  This is as close as we're likely to get.

    – "I remember this like it was just yesterday, and the mysterious way that the scenery kept looping."

The shrine grounds are overgrown and abandoned.  But there is a sort of lively spirit that shines through it.  Even if that liveliness is not the truth of this world, my eyes must be seeing the truth somewhere...

The iconic gate, more rust-colored than red, and asymmetrically inclined with age, welcomes us into the only landmark of an area on the otherwise unbounded premises.

    – "We know, from last time, that the area out further than this is protected by some sort of illusion."

    – "Mm..."

    – "But maybe there's an alternate way through?  A clue we didn't find yet inside the shrine building.  A key, or a back door..."

It's a fine idea.  But there is something else on my mind to do first.  Something I want to return, rather than something I want to take.

My eyes gravitate toward the central altar of the shrine.  On the altar, above the cracked remains of an empty donation box, there is an empty space.  A small metal stand, resting upon on a jutting wooden shelf.

    – "The stand is still here, just as we last saw it."

    – "Ah!  This is where we found that useful souvenir last time."

Renko approaches the altar, and instinctively assumes the position to make a prayer.

I follow after her, wondering whether I ought to have a specific prayer in mind.  Or is it all right if it's just a ceremonious gesture?

I clap my hands together twice, and close my eyes.

#10  Swim in a Sakura-Colored Sea

After making the prayer, I take a moment to look around.

Framed parallel around the altar are two large moss-covered statues, whose forms are difficult to make out.  But I'm rather sure that they're supposed to be Chinese lion dogs, guardians of the sacred building.

    – "Take a look at these statues, Merry.  They're kind of cute."

    – "I agree.  The moss looks a bit like shaggy green fur."

From her bulky dark-colored backpack, which she brings along on every excursion, Renko takes out a camera phone.  She then stretches her arm forward, so that the front screen faces the both of us while capturing the scene of the shrine altar in the background.

    – "Merry, look this way.  Say ah~un!"

    – "Ah~..."

    – "Un!"

Once she's snapped the photo, I rest my chin on her shoulder to look at the image on the screen.  Renko and I appear comfortably in the center, and the two statues appear on either side of the frame.

Traditionally, these guardians are supposed to be facing perfectly forward, on vigilant alert.  But amidst the dilapidation of the shrine, the ground beneath the statues' bases has shifted so that they are slightly skewed.

    – "How funny.  They're turned in opposite directions."

Komainu are a symbol of duality.  Rather than being two separate creatures, these dogs are actually two halves of the same divine beast.

What an interesting perspective that sort of existence must offer.  You might think that a single being can't look both ways at once, and yet...

I'm reminded of the task I wanted to do.  From my own knapsack, I retrieve the old silver-rimmed souvenir that used to be stowed in our bedside dresser drawer.

#11  Ore From the Age of the Gods

    – "Renko.  I think we should—"

Before I can speak, our attention is distracted.

Seemingly cast from behind, an odd shadow crosses our line of sight, streaking quickly over the mossy stone path.

    – "Huh?  What's that?"

By the time we turn around, whatever had cast the shadow is gone.

My brow furrows with a bit of concern, as I brush a lock of hair nervously behind my ear and inch closer to Renko's side.

    – "I'm not sure...  Such a vague shadow could be just about anything."

    – "So it was vague to you too.  I thought maybe you saw it differently."

    – "I'm afraid not."

    – "Well.  If Merry's eyes didn't see it, we can probably conclude it's nothing important."

    – "...Hm-hm."

I graciously accept the unbounded faith that Renko has in me.  It makes me feel at ease.

    – "It's frustrating to be teased, though.  The shape of a shadow is always only one half of the picture."

    – "Mm..."

My partner brings her hand to her chin, the gears in her mind turning as always.

    – "Hey, Merry.  Do you know about Plato's cave?"

    – "Plato's cave.  Yes, I'm familiar with that one."

    – "When people are stuck in a cave, instead of seeing what's happening outside, all they can see are shadows on the wall."

    – "And they have no choice but to assume that to be their reality."

    – "You know, I've always wondered.  In that allegory, what exactly is keeping them from just leaving the cave?"

I smile at Renko's simplistic sense of determination.  If all of humanity shared this enlightened straightforward attitude, philosophy would come to an end as quickly as physics has.

    – "If they aren't physically imprisoned, it must just be their own minds trapping them there.  I suppose that's the whole point."

    – "In other legends, the goddess Amaterasu was said to be stuck in a cave for a long time.  Do you remember what it was that lured her out?"

    – "Let me think.  She came outside because she thought she saw a brand-new god waiting outside to meet her.  Though it was actually just... a mirror."

Renko closes her eyes thoughtfully for a moment, then breaks into an amused smile.

    – "What an interesting lesson.  Sometimes, the way to the truth is through an illusion."

I glance down at the mirror in my hands.  It's such a timeless symbol.  We used this mirror to see images of the dream world... which makes sense, because a mirror itself is a boundary.

In ancient times, the very first human who saw themselves in a mirror reflection of water must have been very shocked.  The shock of seeing the other side of reality, that fear of boundaries, created something that echoed through time.

And the truth that you acknowledge echoes back.

...Something's wrong.

Once again, something is in my thoughts.

Something that I'm not quite sure is me.

#12  Ultimate Truth

I gaze into the glass of the mirror.

I'm uncomfortable looking at it, but at the same time, it feels like I need to.

Perhaps you should look closer.

Violet eyes stare back at me.  The image looks more dissimilar to me than it does similar.

Where are these thoughts coming from?  For the moment, it's the only voice I can hear.

Perhaps you should look away.

The thought immediately contradicts itself.  I don't understand...

My body is stiffly frozen in place, as I don't know which thoughts to follow.

This world exists for you to chase.

This mirror, we determined, was not a magic item.

So I don't believe the mirror is talking to me...

It must be because there is a strong spiritual sense in the air around this shrine, that my own perception is drastically acting up.

It also exists because you chase it.

This is a paradox.  A sort of riddle.

In a daze, entirely spacing out from my surroundings, I seem to have nothing better to do than to ponder this riddle.

    – "...?"

I'm reminded of something I once learned... about a certain definition of "dream."

Something that you want to reach—but it can only be called a "dream" because you haven't reached it.

The answer to the paradox might be a dream, or an illusion.  Like the dreamlike scenes that have appeared in this glass before.

Yet, I cannot allow you to chase too freely.

If contaminants get mixed in, they've got to be eliminated.

Without averting my eyes from the mirror, I mumble under my breath another paradox that I've heard recently.

    – "I am you, but you are not me...  ...!!"

With a sharp pang, I feel a pressure in my head, and a tightening in my chest.

I can't be sure if something external is affecting me, or if the charged atmosphere is compounding my own anxieties.  About this mirror.  About this day.  About myself.

    – "Merry!?  What's the matter?"

Renko's voice pierces through to my ears—

—as she draws her face close enough to mine to see herself in the mirror, too, to see what I'm seeing.

The thick strands of her brown hair, tied loosely in a red ribbon, are dangling next to my cheek.

Her eyes, those eyes that I so treasure, are open wide and round.

Catching small rays of the sun, which is just now beginning to set, I can see specks on light like stars glittering inside of them...

My star.  Like a binary star, bound by gravity.

    – "...Renko."

I watch the mouth of my reflection form the syllables of her name.

Even though the mirror image is backwards... it's showing me the truth.

Somehow, I can recognize my own face looking back at me more clearly when it's by her side.

Of course, this face is Merry Hearn, the dream-chasing member of the Secret Sealing Club.

This is just one tiny corner of reality.  But I you will do everything in my your power to defend it.

...

I calmly lower the mirror, and turn decisively to my partner.

    – "Renko...  I'm fine.  I was just thinking about how we need to return this mirror we borrowed."

    – "Oh?"

    – "There are other treasures out there.  Let's return it now."

After a moment to process my words, Renko sighs with a chuckle.

    – "I see...  I figured that's part of why you wanted to come.  I guess you are a well-behaved young lady after all."

#13  A Dream Transcending Space-Time

    – "11:59, and... 12 o'clock!"

    – "Ah...  It's finally over."

    – "And a very merry un-birthday to you."

The sky hangs dark with midnight.  The moon is at apogee, its farthest point—or so says my astronomy-loving partner.  It's hard to believe, but we had spent all day at this shrine.

Now we lay flat on our backs, in the patchy, withered grass on its abandoned outskirts.

    – "It was an unexpectedly pleasant day, thanks to you."

    – "Even if the professor's going to be upset when we get back, it was worth it."

    – "I think she'll understand.  If only the school would allow it, she'd be all for the idea of field trips."

Renko rolls over on her side, resting her cheek on one hand.

    – "So, Merry, you were going to tell me something once the day passed."

    – "Oh?  Was I?"

I glance at her, my chin tilted with a hint of confusion.

    – "You were!  I've been waiting so patiently.  Don't try to hide it now."

    – "Sorry, Renko.  I honestly don't know what you mean.  I can't think of anything I wanted to say!"

Maybe I had left the thought behind, along with other things, at the altar of the shrine.  If they happen to be important, maybe I'll have the experience of learning them all over again.

    – "Well, you'd better spill it as soon as you remember.  More to the point, though, how are you feeling?"

    – "Mm.  I feel refreshed...  Lighter somehow."

    – "That makes sense.  You did say that you aged down to seventeen.  That must be a nice feeling."

    – "Hee-hee."

It's time to return home.  I brush the dust off my clothes as I rise to my feet.  And I take one last peek over my shoulder.

The old mirror is carefully placed back on the sacred shelf, where we first found it, and it radiates a glossy shine under the dim starlight.

Renko joins me in this farewell gaze... but before we turn our backs to it completely, she does a quick double-take.

    – "…Wait, huh?  Was the rim like that before?"

    – "Hm?"

    – "Did you paint that yourself?"

I squint my eyes at the object from a distance, admiring the detail I see.

    – "Oh.  I don't quite remember that either."

    – "How strange..."

    – "But that's all right.  I love the color purple!"

Afterwords

With a clear barrier, we must keep dream and reality separate.  Wasn't that your her  idea, after all?

Our relationship will be… as humans and youkai have always been.  A duel, a mirror existence.

Finally, I get to express my most anticlimactic but satisfying wish:  for the Hifuu Club's everyday lives to never end.

I can't bring myself to process Merry and Yukari as the same chronological person—to imagine Merry actually turning into Yukari.  But I obviously want a satisfying explanation about their relationship.  That is...

Yukari is Merry's "dream self"—by definition, though not in practice.  A dream self, representing one's deepest and repressed wishes, including the desire to cross into fantasy.  Ironically, Renko awakened this desire as much as tearing her from it.  And Renko was the one, in "Changeability of Strange Dream," who suggested the need to keep dream and reality separate.  The same ideal that shapes the formation of Gensokyo.

There are many ambiguous details left to interpret about how and when things may have happened for these two entities to coexist.  Regardless, the important thing to me is that "Merry" will always be her own chronological character.  The character of Merry, defined through the concept of her togetherness with Renko, stays consistent when you focus on that reality.  The character of Yukari, defined by the concept of "Gensokyo," does the same.  One does not replace the other.  In parallel alignment, in syzygy.

This relationship is specifically not a "one-way street."  The road goes both ways, and the two sides have crucial roles to uphold.  In the same way that spell card duels in Gensokyo are intentioned to maintain an ongoing balance, rather than a war that decisively must be won, I think the struggle between Merry and Yukari is not meant to be settled.  This is a tone that makes sense for the open-ended presentation of the series, but also in-universe.  If the Hifuu Club remains constantly on the border of discovery, they will thrive on their curiosity while successfully preserving the mystique of fantasy.

The story adapted here in the interlude is an actual existing urban legend with many variations, all known as "The Purple Mirror."  As soon as I found out this existed, I was personally flabbergasted and offended that I had not seen it used in Yukaribel context just for the name alone!  Incidentally, the style of the legend's telling was trying a bit to evoke the narrative tone of Lafcadio Hearn's "Stories and Studies of Strange Things."

Thank you very much for reading!

Hifuu CD-style stories:

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  自封夢幻 〜 Sentimental Reverie

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  陶然夢幻 〜 Transcendental Revelry

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  羨望横断 〜 Unenviable Crossroads

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  外来土産 〜 Adventive Reminiscence

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3] 中古技術 〜 Electric Spirit Seance

»  [Tumblr]  [AO3]  幻想惑星直列 〜 Phantasmal Syzygy

[liliumblooms]

You make me wanna

For @anonymous-dentist’s Spiderbit Week Day 4

Prompt: Kiss

.

It was the moment, she could feel it. Almost as if the breeze carried the air differently, lighter, and the light painted the scene in front of her softly, like one of the many works of art her brunette loved. She could see her through the mirror’s reflection, reapplying her characteristic red lipstick and tucking the stray hairs, delicately falling on her face, behind her ears. Today, she wasn’t wearing her signature bandana, or one of the beautiful hairstyles she usually adorned her lovely brown curls with, which now cascaded freely down her back like a waterfall.

She wanted to frame the image in front of her eyes in a photograph, and be able to remember this day vividly for the rest of her life. Their eyes met in the reflection, receiving a wink and a flirtatious smile that quickly made her look away from the gaze, a brown rich and deep like her morning coffee, and feeling her cheeks blush a soft crimson, like the color of the dress Melissa was wearing, subtly accentuating her soft curves as if she were a Greek statue.

A gentle laugh filled the space within the bar’s bathroom where they were, magically lightening the atmosphere and the nerves she felt on edge. She knew they both could sense it; today was the day.

With newfound conviction, she quickly smoothed her lavender dress, adjusting the small wrinkles that were starting to form, and gave her reflection a fleeting glance to ensure she looked her best. She wasn’t used to wearing dresses or being in situations like this, but the beautiful Mexican woman by her side had managed to break down her walls, motivating her daily to see life with new eyes and experience new things. Turning her gaze back to her beautiful companion, she reached out to take her hand, gently wrapping her own around it.

“Cê tà pronta, guapita?”

“Estoy lista, gatinha.”

”Vamos voltar então.” she responded softly, leading her back to the dance floor.

She wasn’t used to dancing or going out at night, or going out at all. If you asked her friends, they would tell you that Celine was simply a solitary and introverted person, possessing a character similar to that of a cat, and she enjoyed her alone time and privacy more than anything else in her life, perhaps except for her work and her childhood cat, Zeno. This was why she had come to the city about five months ago, in search of peace, stability, and a new beginning after a few intense years of family conflicts that had finally overflowed her patience. She was deeply grateful to her past self for making that brave decision because since then, her life had never been so happy.

Her job as a writer allowed her to live wherever her heart desired, and she had chosen Quesadilla Bay because her publisher’s headquarters were there. It was said that the small town had a unique magic in its lands, making its residents cheerful and community-spirited. If you asked her, she didn’t believe much in those words, but perhaps the beautiful woman accompanying her tonight was the personification of those ancient legends.

They had met at the psychological consultation she had started attending a month after moving. She wasn’t her therapist, but they often took the same bus back to their homes, as they lived a few buildings apart in the heart of the city. It was Melissa who approached her first, with an extroverted and curious soul that couldn’t ignore the dark blonde after three weeks of leaving the same place and getting off at the same stop.

They quickly formed a friendship, built on a foundation of common interests and personalities that simply clicked. When her guapita found out that after two months of living in the city, she still didn’t know it beyond the medical consultation, her publisher’s building, the corner minimarket, and her own building, she made it her personal mission to introduce Celine to her new home, aiming for the young woman to fall in love with the unique magic brought by the coastal breeze of Quesadilla.

She had succeeded, it took just three months not only to make her fall for the hidden charms of the bay, but also for her beautiful and charismatic guide. She wasn’t someone interested in romance or particularly attracted to the idea of a relationship, her family giving her a poor example of them, but something in Melissa had awakened her senses, and after weeks of flirting that kept blurring the line between friendship and something more, she was more than ready to finally cross the invisible boundary she had set at the beginning of their relationship.

The brunette had managed to open and enter her heart, and every opportunity they spent together, getting to know each other more and more, made it increasingly inevitable to reach this moment. She knew she had to be the one to take the first step now, and she was finally ready to do so.

Back on the dance floor, she delicately placed her hands on her companion’s waist, subtly pulling her closer to her own body. She could feel the brunette’s arms resting on her shoulders, her slender fingers starting to play with the short strands of her hair. Both moved in a gentle sway to the rhythm of the song playing through the bar’s speakers.

“Your streak has grown out, maybe it's time I help you bleach it again,” her Mel mentioned, moving one of her hands to the older girl’s face to brush her bangs with her thumb.

The white streak decorating her hair had been an impulsive decision during a night of insomnia. Celine had sent a message around two in the morning, not expecting a prompt response, and maybe a brief lecture on why it was a bad idea in the morning, but she was surprised to hear knocks on her door and see the Mexican outside her apartment, just 20 minutes after sending the message, still in pajamas, with her satin bonnet on to protect her beautiful curls at night, and a bag that seemed to contain bleach and toner.

She knew she could always count on Melissa for whatever she needed, as the brunette always reminded her every time they met, but seeing her there, so ready and willing to help her in the middle of one of her identity crises, made her realize, for the first time, how her heartbeat simply accelerated in her presence.

“Do you want to come back to my apartment after we get tired of this place and do it?” she responded, in what she considered a subtly flirtatious way, not wanting to end the night too soon.

Tonight was a themed night at the bar near their homes, and she had taken the initiative to officially invite her to their first official date together, after noticing the Mexican’s interest upon discovering the event in a flyer on the street while they were walking Meli’s puppy, Firusflais. Since then, there had been a special sparkle in the young woman’s chocolate eyes, still present now, as they made eye contact.

“¿Te me estás insinuando, belleza?” she responded with a flirtatious tone, sparking a small panic within her.

“NAO! Quero dizer, sim!… talves?” Her quick, panicked babbling once again elicited Melissa’s soft laughter, which had an automatic calming effect on her nerves.

“Calma, gatinha, I know what you mean. I’m happy to go home with you tonight and help with your beautiful hair.” Her hand rested on her cheek, her thumb now gently caressing it. Her guapita knew about her asexuality, and although it was her nature to make flirtatious comments like this, she always assured her that those were never her intentions and that she simply enjoyed seeing the blush that always appeared on her cheeks when she was flirted with.

She couldn’t help, being so close and with Melissa’s gentle hands still in her hair and on her face, to take a small breath to gather her strength and shorten the distance between them a little more. The brunette, playing along, adjusted her body further into the blonde’s arms, now their bodies fully in contact and their faces just a few centimeters apart.

“Melissa, guapita, this night has been magical…” she gave a small sigh, briefly redirecting her gaze to the girl’s plump, red lips before quickly returning her eyes to hers. “And I really enjoy spending my time with you, you’ve changed my life, little by little, and I’m so fortunate to have you. Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

She paused momentarily as she felt her eyes well up, feeling like a loser for not being able to confess her feelings to the goddess she held in her arms, but before she could continue, Melissa stole the words from her.

“Dulzura, you’ve changed my life too, thank you for coming into it and making me so happy.” She whispered, looking directly into her eyes and still caressing her cheek, the gesture dissipating the tears that still clouded her vision. There was no need to speak louder; being so close, mere murmurs sufficed to understand each other.

“Meli, Lissa, guapita… eu gosto demais de você…” Gently squeezing her waist, she moved closer to whisper in her ear. “E eu adoraria, se você me der a chance, beijar você agora.”

She could feel how Melissa, still with one of her hands tangled in her hair, gently pushed it to establish eye contact again, their faces barely a centimeter apart. Both blushing but with beautiful smiles and a gaze that screamed love as they looked at each other.

“No hay nada que me gustaría más que besarte, corazón.” she responded, the brunette taking the initiative and finally bringing their lips together for the first time.

Melissa’s lips tasted like the margaritas she had ordered when they were still at the table, with a slight hint of cherries, probably due to the lip balm she always carried with her. With her eyes closed, her sweet scent filled her nostrils, almost visualizing her perfume in the back right corner of the psychologist’s vanity. And the touch of her lips, moving in automatic synchrony, completely clouded the rest of her senses.

But, more than anything, this first kiss felt like coming home, warm and comforting, and completely addictive. She knew right then that she would strive for the rest of her life, and all the lives to come, to continue kissing the lips of the sweet woman she could already assure would be the love of her life.

[headcansxfanfictions]

BLOODLINE: An Illumi Fanfic

Plot: Silva and Kikyo think its time Illumi finds a bride and continues the bloodline. Illumi is less than thrilled.

Chapter #1

“Master Illumi? Mistress Kikyo and Masters Silva and Zeno wishes to speak with you Immediately. They are waiting in the map room.” A butler informs before bowing and hurrying off.

Illumi nods to Milluki to continue the training exercise they had been working on, before heading towards the map room. He wonders what the meeting could be about. Whenever meeting are held in the map room they are serious.

When Illumi opens the double doors of the map room he is met by his parents and grandfather all waiting patiently around the dark oak table. The map room used to be used for exactly what the name suggests. The Zoldyck ancestors would plan their mission out in here over the many maps that filled the room. Nowadays physical maps were obsolete however the tradition of important meetings being held there stuck.

“Have a seat Illumi.” Silva commands, face showing nothing of what is to be expected.

Illumi sits and waits for a moment in case any of his elders are to address him first. When it becomes clear that no one will speak he says “Father? If I may ask, for what purpose have I been called here?”

“Illumi, you are my eldest child. We have called this meeting to discuss the future of the Zoldyck bloodline. By now your mother and I had assumed you would be the one to bring this matter to our attention. However seeing as you have never mentioned anything of the sort we find it necessary to step in.” Silva’s words sound foreign to Illumi as he tries to riddle their meaning. What does his father mean? Zoldyck bloodline? Oh… OHHH.

The thought hits Illumi, “Father, Are you speaking of procreation? And of marriage?”

Silva opens his mouth to speak but Kikyo beats him to it, “Illumi darling we think it is well due. You haven’t been a child for some time. I understand not everyone can be as young as I was with you but even so we have given you plenty of time.” Her voice drips with that strange twisted form love. She regards her son as a precious asset rather than a person but its the only form love Illumi has ever known.

Carry on the bloodline. Become a father. Illumi’s thoughts are spinning. He isn’t sure what to think. He had never even thought of finding a partner and having children. “I understand, how urgently are we talking? Do I need to find someone?”

Kikyo blinks and Zeno watches the interaction silently, “We assumed you had someone in mind? Do you not?”

Illumi feels slightly embarrassed all of a sudden. He contemplates lying but that wouldn’t get him anywhere. Illumi shakes his head “I don’t in fact have anyone in mind.”

Kikyo frowns and Silva stares emotionless.

Zeno speaks up for the first time breaking the tension, “You know I had an arranged marriage. My father chose your grandmother for me and once she was confirmed to be pregnant with Silva we got married.”

Illumi looks to his father for a reaction, the stern man runs a hand through his platinum hair, “That is a viable option. I will reach out to some respected families. Illumi you may also look for your bride and we will report to each other when eligible women are found.” “Thank you father.” Illumi nods, “May I be excused? You have given me a lot to think about.”

AN: Thanks for reading. Please give feedback.

[myreia]

wip whenever

tagged by @galadae and @coldshrugs, thank you! 💖

tagging @bearlytolerant, @thevikingwoman, @impossible-rat-babies, @hylfystt, @allaganexarch, @birues & @roguelioness.

I'm lost in an Echo scene from Chapter 5, Aureia's family sucks. ✌️Stormblood spoilers-ish.

Laughter hums on Elgara’s lips and she returns to her paperwork with smooth, controlled movements. Kallias has always been easy to rile up. It is his greatest weakness—and it is easy to exploit.

“That possessive streak will be the end of you,” she says, tutting lightly. “Go about it then, if you’re so inclined. You don’t need my permission. I’m sure the legatuses would be overjoyed to hear of the death of the Warrior of Light. Perhaps if you offer them proof, they would even reward you.”

He snarls under his breath and bites his tongue, his riposte contained.

“Or does the thought give you pause? Do you fear, perhaps, that you aren’t strong enough? Is that why you’ve come here, crawling back to your mother, riddled with doubt and uncertainty?”

“I don’t doubt, I—”

Elgara sets her pen aside and rises from her chair, unfurling to her full height. She towers above her son, casting a long shadow across the observation deck’s floor. “Kira has something you don’t,” she says. “She has had it her whole life, it is what made her unique. Special. An asset. Your father and I sought to tap it, but we did not have the knowledge or the foresight to understand what we were dealing with. But Aulus mal Asina did. He was a visionary. And someone must continue his work.”

Red. Blue. Red. Blue.

The lights cycle, flashing over Elgara and Kallias, casting them into darkness. The solider inhales once more, her breath as sharp as ice. She presses herself against the door, gazing inwards, her form unnoticed in the shadows. A shiver ran down her spine at the mention of Aulus’ name. She recalls him, of course she does. She remembers his youth when she met him near two decades ago, bright-eyed and intense, speaking theories dismissed by his superiors as fanciful dreams at best and psychosis at worst. It was he who first spoke of Echoes and Resonants, of gifting the Garlean people the ability to control aether.

She recalls what he did to Krile. What he did to Fordola… and Zenos, too.  

How his life ended, screeching about data and souls with his dying breath on the floor of the Ala Mhigan palace. Forgotten and abandoned by the prince he had devoted himself to.

His research, as he called it, should have ended there.

Inside the observation room, Elgara approaches her son step by dreaded step. She may be no soldier, and yet she engulfs him. Outmatches him. Outwits him. Kallias is no small man, and yet compared to her imposing height he is so small. So insignificant.

“Don’t you see, Kal?” she says, her voice low and strangely soothing in its intensity. The voice of someone who can lull others into implicit trust by the sheer power of command and self-assurance. “Kira is a liability, but liabilities can be exploited. Her usefulness to Garlemald has not ended. You wish to kill her; I will not doubt your thirst for vengeance, it is more than understandable. But think on it. Kill her and we lose her forever.”

He grunts, the panicked sound strangled in his throat. “Have you forgotten what she’s done, mother? What she—”

“Shh.” She arrives before him and places a hand to his chin. It’s a gentle gesture; on anyone else it would be caring. But on her it is empty, a gesture of inspection and observation. “Capture her and our opportunities are thrown wide. We can reclaim what we have lost, you and I. Theorzen will be a name to be respected; no longer will it be spat upon like the rest.”

He closes his eyes, his expression still.

“You deserve more than the lot you have been given, Kallias. And she can gift you the strength you deserve to carry. The skills and talents that should have gone to you. A transference. A replication. A Resonant of your very own, one derived from the Warrior of Light. With it, you can have your vengeance. With it, you can outmatch even Zenos himself.”

His eyelids flutter and he grimaces, lip curling back. Then he crumples into her and clings, shoulders shuddering with the aftershock of silent tears. In this moment, there is no sign of the operative and the spy. In this moment, he is a child coming home.

It makes the soldier’s blood boil. Lost in her anger, she slips and cracks her forehead against the door, helmet banging against the glass. Her vision blurs red and her knees give out from under her. When she finally clears her vision, she finds herself huddles on the stairwell floor, looking in as Elgara enfolds her son into her embrace.

A spike of jealousy flares in the pit of her stomach. Unwanted. Unneeded. Unexplained.  

She curses her inability to do anything but observe.

Elgara cradles him, a hand resting against the back of his head, stroking his matted hair. “Bring your sister to me, Kal,” she croons. “Bring her to me and I can make it happen. I wish for it to happen. It should have been you all along.”

Kallias stills. His expression hardens, his lips pressed firm together. Slowly, one by one his fingers lift as he loosens his grip. The danger and the malice return, blazing bright in his red eyes. “No,” he breathes.