#some of them im not sure i can part with...

[real-camera]

so i dont actually have a lot of stories about getting injured, and that number is wayy lessened due to my kinda bad memory so if it’s fine, im just gonna infodump a bit abt the summary of the brain-multiverse in my mind bc thats the only thing i can remember mostly clearly with a timeline (<- has been building the world since before covid)

uhh so like we start with characters made from songs or stories, ocs to do cool stuff, and at some point i realized that there’s too many universes so i do a purge of them with a ceremony, the multiverses (at that time, only one multiverse) are destroyed, yet still remain as fragments for the characters

i make an oc that i plan to use more frequently than the others, and the other previously main characters are still main characters, im just not making them the spotlight character, or the character that i focus on/imagine from their perspective-ish, as of that time. All the previously made characters (like a hundred kinda developed ones bc they tend to stick to a genre of music or story) are now in the same universe, but none of them have the memory of the previous multiverse. due to my character’s (call them M for now) backstory and role in the world (which would take too long to actually explain) theyre one of the few who are actually aware of the multiverse, with the multiverse being canon in their memories due to the multiverse being part of the ‘host’ M. they are able to travel multiverses, but can only interfere with select labeled multiverses (interactables?)

there’s chaos events (limited to the universe, caused by C) world events (limited to the universe, caused by world/NOT outside interference, and universe events (limited to universes of that type, cause is kinda funky depending on the event)

so im not too sure about all of that, they may change, they may get more added on, doesnt matter because for every thing that is, there is one where it isnt and many inbetween

so now that we got the Origin multiverse, or the High Magic multiverse, due to many people there and the world being very powered, and kinda op compared to the other worlds, its part of the Named side, in which basically all the characters are named.

Then we move onto the semi-Named side, originally based in a Danganronpa world so Ultimates and stuff exist before eventually adding magic. theres also an M there, however very few other characters there are also named compared to the High Magic multiverse. the M there is different from the M in the High Magic in what they are, their origins, and a lot of stuff, however they are also aware of the multiverses due to how their character originated and branched from the other M

while some characters are exclusive to their multiverses, some characters are in both, so in the crossover universes (in which the higher magic universe crosses to the lower one, as they have magic to spare so they can bridge the gap) there may be more than one character with the same name and appearance

there’s also those two people, not M, who have their own lore i wont be saying but who are related in some way (cousins or brothers or idk) who literally moved from High Magic to Middle Magic, so the Ms check up on them from time to time.

then there’s the Low Magic multiverse where magic is rarer. (High Magic has magic, basically everyone is magic in some way, and there’s a lot. Middle Magic has magic, most people have magic, there’s not really a lot but also not little. Low Magic has magic, it’s rare to have magic, and the amounts of magic there is kinda lower than average.)

this one is odd bc i spent the least time here so each plotline/universe varies from each other in many ways

i have to be kinda vague bc each M has a different plotline and if it was different enough for me to know it, it’s different enough from other Ms. also important note: magic isn’t exactly magic, im just saying it because that’s the easiest explanation

now i think that’s basically the gist of it? theres been a recent development in which i switched spotlight characters in the High Magic (i often use High or Middle Magic) and im starting to develop another character a bit more now, also adding more characters as well lol, but besides that, yeah that’s the summary :3

uhhh idk if this summary infodump was fine but oh well, i dont have injuries that i remember that seemed important

uhhhhhhh

@hero-dualies-3 ?? idk i dont talk to my other mutuals i talk/interact the most with like two mutuals and one of them tagged me

open if anyone not tagged wants to join ig

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[cookies-in-chees]

I wish those Mouthwashing fans would stop attacking everyone who draws Anya as pregnant. First of all I'm pretty sure (Im not an abortion expert so I might be wrong) even if they got back to Earth safely Anya would be too far along to get one so it's not realistic but that's not even my main issue.

Mouthwashing is a PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR GAME that is about people's bodily autonomy being stripped away from them. Yes Anya could kill that thing in a perfect world, but the world of Mouthwashing is very specifically not a perfect world and Anya's pregnancy is incredibly important to the narrative. "But they said it was a good ending au" ok and usually Curly is still severely burned, obviously this is a good RELATIVE TO CANON AU, not the sunshine, rainbows and baby bunnies au.

Anya's pregnancy is the catalyst for everything that happens in the story. While yes there are definitely pro-lifers who are making content like that to push their agenda, that's not where most of this is coming from, and attacking random who people are drawing psychological horror art for the psychological horror game for it just makes you look like an asshole.

I know "Drawing something doesn't mean you condone it irl" Is largely used in shipping discourse but I feel like Mouthwashing fans should be able to understand that "Exploring dark/depressing themes in art, especially fan art of a game like Mouthwashing, does not mean that you think that this is the best possible situation in the real world"

Edit: Also (while I don't think people who do this are bad or media illiterate) I feel like just saying "Well in my AU Anya can just abort that thing and everyone else who does it differently is wrong" kinda misses the point of Mouthwashing. As I said Mouthwashing is a game about the horror of losing bodily autonomy and how these men have failed Anya, it is incredibly important to the narrative and horror of the game that Anya is forced to keep the baby. 

Obviously, I think people should be allowed to write AU’s where Anya has the choice of getting rid of the baby because it is a nice alternate universe but to me at least it feels like a bit of a cop-out. These au’s actively reject one of the main themes of this game and the creators tend to (not all of them, just some) act like they are better than everyone else who tries to engage with it because conveniently getting rid of one of the most important parts of the game's story and horror makes them feel better even if it ruins the narrative. Don’t get me wrong making an AU so you can feel better is great, I do that all the time, but you shouldn’t be harassing people for doing things differently. (Oh yeah and harassing people over AU’s is extremely childish and gross)

[monayen]

how about something sfw for a change? can you do a ranking of who’s best at cooking?

Cooking Headcannons

➷ Paring - Multi x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - very light mention of consuming blood and cannibalism. that’s about it !!

a/n - i feel like im a bit rusty at pure sfw stuff… but i will try for NNN ~_~ this isn’t a ranking, since a good chunk are either just bad or barely cook. mostly just hcs about food they like, what’d they’d make you, and habits etc. ratmen are excluded cus you know those boys scavenge rather than cook !!! also ignore any mistakes i wrote this really fast

Sebastian

While Sebastian did work at a pizza place for a bit before becoming Randal’s pet, it was just as a delivery boy

I like to think he was in the training process of learning how to make the food, but he got lost before he learned anything skillful. He does have half the recipe for garlic knots memorized though 

A personal hc is that his parents were semi-absent with him (which probably helped lead him to being in the adoption center in the first place), so he survived a lot on sandwiches and microwave meals since they were easy and available

He wasn’t a big fan of it then, but now he craves them a lot. His favorite were the microwaveable kraft dinner mac & cheese cups. Foods like that are a comfort for him, and he’ll love you forever if you manage to get some for him to eat

Luther doesn’t trust him in the kitchen, so even if Sebastian wanted to cook, he wouldn’t be allowed. Deep down, he doubts his cooking skills anyways

Randal

A terrible cook. He has no idea how to properly prepare a meal and his attempts often end in disaster

Randal doesn't understand the concept of recipes or following instructions. He just throws random ingredients together and hopes for the best. “How to Basic” levels of culinary skills

Despite his terrible cooking skills, Randal still insists on trying to make meals for people (or you) to try. Truly believes he's good and everyone else just can’t handle his exquisite tastes

Once, Randal tried to make surprise pancakes for breakfast. He used baking powder instead of baking soda and the pancakes turned out hard as rocks. He still ate them anyway, breaking a couple of his teeth in the process. Don’t worry, they grew back by supper

He used to try to cook at least a couple times a week, but Luther banned him after he 

somehow managed to set water on fire on the stove. Now he’s restricted to just the microwave. Which is alright, just remind him to add the water in his instant noodles before they explode

Randal will also eat almost anything if it's covered in enough sauce or condiments. He's been known to put ketchup on his cereal and maple syrup on his pizza. Swears by it, will probably make you try all his weird food combinations

Satoru

This little show off!

Cooks and bakes purely to give it away to you or Randal. He doesn’t even eat them himself, always insisting you try his new recipe

The reality is that he steals most of his ideas from cookbooks. While he has the skill to execute them, coming up with his own dishes and perfecting them is a bit beyond him—but that’s a secret he keeps to himself!

He’ll sit there, watching closely as you eat his carefully prepared food, studying your reactions and asking if it’s good, like a chef waiting for feedback

But he’s memorized what you like already, and he makes sure to tailor his dishes just for you, hoping to earn your praise when the flavors hit your tongue

Exceptional at chopping, so fast at it you worry he’ll cut a finger off or something if he’s not careful enough. A part of him doesn’t mind if you taste something that has a little bit of his blood in it…

Doesn’t exactly have a favorite meal or food, he likes whatever you like :) is a bit partial to Japanese cuisine though, especially sashimi

Nyon

Nyon's cooking skills are quite limited. As a catman, his preferences lean more towards raw meats and simple  foods. Or whatever Luther gives him

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like a good home cooked meal, but if you put him in a kitchen with every ingredient and tool that could potentially make something avant-garde or delicious… he’d probably just end up making hard boiled eggs

He does have an odd skill of picking though. Pickled cucumbers, onions, beets, all in unlabeled, merky, mason jars. Has a goal to pickle everything that can be pickled, just to try

Keeps a stash of it in the pantry and munches on them when he gets high. Will share if you ask (he kinda wants you to, pickling takes practice!) 

Nyon has the stance that he’d much rather wash the dishes and put away the ingredients than actually prepare the food, as it’s a lot of effort and stress on his part that’d he’d rather avoid

Nyen

Really only ever cooks for himself. Not a fan of sharing and to be honest… you probably wouldn’t like what he makes anyways

Lots of slabs of undercooked chicken and beef, barely seasoned because “it doesn’t need that.” Protein buff, but not keen on eating beans… or eggs… or fish… Okay, usually just eats chicken to maintain his muscles

Unironically picky, doesn’t eat a lot of what isn’t what he usually eats. If you give him a plate of pasta or something, he’ll just stare at it like you handed him a severed cow head. Even Luther knows this, making sure he keeps the fridge stocked with Nyen favorite foods so he’s in the best condition to get through the day!

Does have a small sweet tooth, so you can coax him into baking if he’s in a good mood. His favorite are raspberry muffins :)

You still might have to do most of the work, but he’ll mix shit and keep track of the dessert in the oven for you. Don’t ask him for anything else—just hand him a muffin and clean up the mess, okay?

Luther

Quite the chef! 

He’s domestic, and even though Randal always begs him to get fast food to eat, he always prefers to make something at home

Uses “passed down” recipes. Passed down from who? Who knows. He keeps them all in a little old notebook, pages yellowed and worn out. The last ingredient in all the recipes is always “love ♡”

He’s also a big fan of those southern mom baking shows, especially during the holiday season, he’ll bake like a madman!

Likes nature, so he does have a small garden in the backyard of the house he’ll tend to when he has the time. Specializes in exotic vegetables you probably aren’t used to eating. Ask him how his kohlrabi harvest is going, he’s quite proud!

The type of humanoid to surprise you with your favorite meal after a long day. Makes enough for everyone, of course, but Luther puts in effort to see the smile on your face when he presents you with it at the dinner table

He does expect compliments after you eat any of his food, even if it’s something as simple as scrambled eggs. It means a lot to him, so don’t forget to do so. He might take it the wrong way if you don’t 

Luther swears up and down that he’d never eat a human. Cannibalism is wrong! But he did get very close to once… just to “expand his pallet”

[rosepetalkitty]

ngl hdg kinda amazes me in its ability to cater to my kinks pretty much perfectly while simultaneously triggering several of the worst parts of my trauma.

like how is it that it hits on everything i like on the surface, provides semi-decent worldbuilding to back it all up and enable the creation of stories, and even has consistent backstory and stuff, and yet the entire damn thing instills this looming sense of dread and fear that i can't shake enough to properly enjoy it...

below the break im gonna talk in like. moderate detail. about the parts that scare me. so uh yeah be aware that it'll get heavy that's just how it is.

ok, so the worst thing for me. wellness checks. the idea is cute and kinda hot on the surface. "make sure you're okay and if you're not you're getting domesticated" (which is supposed to be like. a happy thing. "now you get to just chill and be happy and get taken care of forever and in return you give me only your submission"). yeah, fuck it, im into that. hell that's not even an uncommon trope in the realm of cnc/mc writing.

except whenever i read an hdg wellness check story (in the sense of those long-ish tumblr posts that people write—i haven't even really considered reading the longer form content on ao3) there's something viscerally... off... about the tone. it stops feeling like kink and starts feeling like a nightmare when things happen to line up just so, and then it clicks, and reminds me that i knew people, real people, who had "wellness checks" happen in real life, except that instead of it being a kink thing that made them happy and was genuinely for their wellbeing, it was that their parents had hired people to kidnap them and drag them to a psych ward when they just needed a therapist. not all of those people that i knew have come home, as far as im aware. some have been gone for years.

and what about the whole idea of the non-consensual part being okay because "it's for your own good". in hdg-land it is. it's genuinely good for you and everyone seems to be happy with it, other than the occasional "bad guy who hates good things" trope (feralists, in hdg, afaik). but that's exactly what they told me when they cut contact between my boyfriend and i while he was in the hospital. "it's for your own good." guess what, it wasn't. his parents didn't like our relationship. they wanted me to forget him. they either didn't understand or didn't care that i couldn't. it was a year and a half before he came home and i had forgotten nothing.

our loss of communication was the tipping point in a series of events that, had i made one decision differently in the end, would have killed me. thankfully i fucked it up and am here today, no longer in that bad of a place may i add. im choosing not to share any of what happened to me directly right now because i don't want to turn this into a full on trauma dump, but suffice it to say there are recurring themes.

it's so interesting to me because in a lot of ways i have found comfort from those experiences in kink and writing. take flames of averon: mech pilots are neurochemically bonded to their handlers. how different is this from what the affini do to their florets? well, you have to sign up to be a pilot, and there's no authority in the world threatening you if you choose not to. even the coalition military wouldn't dare force you to become a pilot against your will, though they might never stop sending you promotional flyers if they find out you're able to tolerate the cyberware /lh

hell, im into cnc. im really into it. i chose to leave it as an opening between pilots and handlers in foa. the implication exists that if a handler tells their pilot to do something the poor thing will have a hell of a time saying no. that's intentional. it's hot to me, on either end. but the safety comes from other things.

yes, your handler has a lot of influence over you at a level that's hard to imagine, but you chose them and they chose you (most of the time), or at the very least neither of you had any complaints to raise with your supervisor when the paperwork came in for syncing your link chips (holly and astrid from seat of consciousness).

yes it's true, you can't be reassigned now that you're bonded, but that doesn't mean you have zero recourse if your handler is treating you badly. if you need to, you can always file paperwork with your commanding officer to request that something be done.

plus, handlers go through a lot of training, which includes screening to filter out people who would actually harm their pilots. yeah, some handlers are a little sadistic, but when it comes down to it they are on your side. if that wasn't the case they would never have passed pre-basic.

put another way, as a pilot in flames of averon, the closest thing ive ever written to a floret, there are a multitude of points at which you could have said no and didn't, and although that's obviously still noncon in the grand scheme of things, it's "signing away your freedom" cnc compared to the hdg flavor of "you 'consented' via it being the best thing for you whether you like it or not."

even if your handler just told you to "stay" for the first time and you're currently panicking and trying to figure out why your legs won't move, you still have some tiny amount of agency—an escape hatch, so to speak—and you'll just never end up having to use it.

and to me, the loss of that minute level of agency which will never be invoked is the difference between "this is hot as hell and feels perfectly safe" and "this is the abuse that was once leveraged against those i cared about, and to some degree myself, and it's simply been repackaged with a kink sticker slapped on."

none of this is to say i hate hdg, it's fans, those who write about it, or even the parts of it which scare me. i do think the idea is hot. hdg is pretty cool. hell, it was one of my inspirations in writing a lot of the pilot/handler dynamics in flames of averon. but it does scare me. and no matter what i tell myself i can't shake that fear.

it's frustrating, because oftentimes fear can be part of what makes something hot, but the particular flavor of fear which hdg instills in me is one which makes bitter all that it reaches. maybe someday i'll grow out of it. the traumatic memories from which that fear stems were only created in the past couple of years, to be fair. but something tells me a piece of that fear will never be fully dislodged from my mind.

so, all this to say, while i am into hdg, it's a complicated relationship.

(and on a sillier in character note to lighten the mood—please feel free to respond to this with roleplay or whatever you like!)

to any Affini out there who might be reading this, know that im not scared of you. im not scared of what you represent. im only scared by the fact that you mimic that which has left the scars you see on my soul today. im not against being taken in as a floret, and none of this is to say that i hold any level of disdain for you.

i only ask that you be gentle with me. what has been broken once can be broken again. please, do not let it come to that.

[teffiyx]

let's talk about mouthwashing!

spoilers for the game. duh.

trigger warning for abuse, SA, death.

i feel like we all know how complex the story telling for the game is yet theres still people that don't seem to get it entirely. i decided to ramble about that. im sure others have done it before me but let me ramble about my hyperfixation god damn it.

this is the first out of 3 posts so strap in. the 3rd one is a LONG one. second post | third post

before i start a few disclaimers: i am rather new to mouthwashing so i do not know EVERYTHING. im just talking about my own interpretation, if there's any missing details pls inform me!

Anya is a shy and timid character!

this of course is not true but i've noticed a few people that still cling onto this interpretation of her. even though its not a vocal group that has this idea, i'd like to talk more about this.

Jimmy is an unreliable narrator, we were given that knowledge with a scene where we see multiple working cryo pods post-crash, despite us knowing there is only one functioning cryo pod.

so of course, knowing that information, most people would start to realise everything we went through as Jimmy post-crash, it was all biased, we were in the eyes of an abuser, and we trusted the words he used to describe Anya as part of her character. that's also part of the horror for this game in my opinion. the horror that i agreed the views of an abuser horrifies me.

"He - It just hurts him so much. I can't stand the noise."

"...You did make it through nursing school, right?"

"Pony Express sure does know how to cut corners, if nothing else."

-

"I was hoping you could help me with Captain-"

"Curly."

"Right, sorry ...w-with Curly's medication?"

"People have to be worth their titles."

"Don't you think, nurse Anya?"

"...Y-yeah. Forget I asked."

these two different conversations happened in the same scene at the start of the game. after going through the game we can see now how Jimmy talks to Anya is downright insulting. maybe some people have picked up on it during their first playthrough that the way he talks to her is not normal, but we didn't think much of it. but now, now things are different.

"Anya never got into medical school because she's... well, let's be real."

"And how many employment years Swansea got left in him?"

"Daisuke will be fine, mommy and daddy have him covered. So there's that at least."

"But you."

"Headed for bigger and better, right?"

this string of dialogue came 6 days before the crash, when everyone is gathered for Curly's surprise party and Curly decided to drop the news that Pony Express is letting them all go. (this dialogue will be brought up again for something else.)

he was almost insulting everyone sitting at the table, yet in this string of dialogue, he completely disregards Anya. summing his point about her as "well, let's be real.". it shows how much he views her, which was practically nothing. but first-time playing, you didn't think much of it. because he also insulted everyone else.

to summarise this whole thing, Anya as a character is not shy or timid, it is simply how Jimmy views her. but even so, we probably will never know how Anya is truly like. because even when she mentions this won't be her worst moment, she is only remembered as a poor crew member that god abused and assaulted by another member, which is, her worst moment alive.

[husbandograveyard]

LALE

Im going to have to put it here because i am fairly certain tumblr will yell at me for too many tags if I don't.

First of all.

You didnt have to, you really didn't. But heck 😭 thank youuuu.

This was so intensely sweet, i feel like i have to go brush my teeth again. I was hooked from the absolute beginning. ROLLED UP SLEEVES?? COUNT ME IN.

And then the banter. The remark about the lap??? Mickey can attest, I yelped. Kuroo the man you are 🫠

Cats immediately being attracted to him? Mee-ow. Can't blame them for sure.

Him smelling irresistible? I BET he does.

The ARM behind you??? I am deceased.

Ugh and the soft slow burn. I love how you manage to always build up something, some tension, how your characters can bask in the feeling of crushing, of first love, of getting into it and I love that so much, makes the payoff even more sweet.

AND THEN THE EASTER EGGS???? All the references 😭😭😭 my coffee orders, my food 😭😭😭 the way i gasped. 10/10 no remarks

The passing seasons, the snow storm (the cinammon rolls) the way you think about living with him already the first minute you're in there and how that would look. WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

Ugh so happy and proud to be part of the Kuroo kisser club.

Lale this was such a cute and smart and wonderful and comforting read. I am tucking it away in a corner of my heart. And also in a list with links for infinite rereads because you can be sure ill be back for this one so many times.

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

im finally going through my stuffed animals to choose which ones to donate (most of them. ive been putting this off for a long time ahaha sobs) and each webkinz i put in the box kills me inside

[hinamie]

playing around w slightly different hair renders

[shiraoyagi]

hot take ??

the only reason people say that "mafuyu and tsukasa have nothing in common" when presented with mafukasa parallels is because they equate mafuyu and tsukasa being similar to "tsukasa has depression" because the fandom equates mafuyu's personality to being depressed and nothing else.

it doesn't help that people (primarily younger people in the fandom) who DO believe in mafukasa parallels end up making the mistake of portraying tsukasa as depressed because as of right now he is not (although it's possible he was in past because of his Very Unclear Middle School Backstory but that's irrelevant)

anyways, mafuyu and tsukasa are narrative foils because their core personalities are built off of the concept of wanting to make the people around them— especially their families— happy.

they both developed personalities at a young age based on someone they looked up to. for tsukasa, it was seiichi amami's performance that inspired him to be a star— a hero that could cheer anyone up. for mafuyu, it was her mother taking care of her that inspired her to be a nurse— and you can see the similarities from there.

for mafuyu, her identity would first come into conflict when her mother expressed her want for mafuyu to be a doctor— suddenly, "everyone's" happiness didn't match what she wanted to do, leaving her in a state of disorder and eventual depression.

for tsukasa, his identity was something he nearly forgot in its entirety at the start of the main story— becoming arrogant and fully absorbed in a hero persona, forgetting the kind person he truly is. furthermore, his current character arc seems to be foreshadowing that what "being a star" to him is going to be called into question— maybe it is something more than just being the main character that saves everyone.

their insecurities are incredibly similar.

in mafuyu's first mixed, mafuyu feels insecure towards ichika because unlike ichika, she feels as if her lyrics have no genuine meaning to be expressed to other people— despite them being her very real feelings. this is brought up again in her second mixed as well.

in tsukasa's third focus event, something similar happens. when watching seiichi's performance, he thinks that his acting is "real" and feels inferior towards him, which is ironic because tsukasa has been method acting this whole time. when tsukasa is acting out rio or bartlett or really anyone at this point in the story, it's not just those characters— it's a reflection of his traumas.

just like mafuyu, tsukasa undermines his passions he's poured his feelings into because someone else's work is more genuine in his eyes.

now, then, foils have many similarities and parallels (and i could honestly list a lot more), but how i define them is that they usually have some kind of major branching difference that MAKES them foils.

for mafuyu and tsukasa it's pretty straightforward.

mafuyu's people pleasing behavior comes from external expectations and pressures— her mother's demands.

tsukasa's people pleasing behavior comes internally, from himself— if he can't meet his own standards, if he can't be the perfect big brother or the perfect star, then he is nothing.

and even then, there's some overlap.

tsukasa's behavior was indirectly encouraged by his mother praising him for being a "good big brother" over the phone instead of asking him if he was okay while home alone.

mafuyu's terrified to be herself around other people because she doesn't want to worry or bother them— she doesn't want to be a burden— and projects her mother's expectations onto them, not realizing that they would prefer the real mafuyu if they knew the truth.

and the concept of mafukasa being foils is most perfectly and blatantly portrayed in these two cards.

mafuyu, the marionette, sitting limp on the floor— puppeteered by her mother's demands and donning a mask to hide her true self.

tsukasa, the jester, standing above everything else— puppeteering silenced plushies— his feelings. he's not being completely honest with himself, and he doesn't even realize it.

mafuyu has cut her strings and ripped her mask in half. she has acknowledged her true feelings and expressed them to her mother, even if she had to run away in the end.

tsukasa has not yet cut his.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

further

ok i spent A Long Time running around the forest/crossroads for random enemy spawns to work out orb/dagger a bit too and i do think it is helpful for those big mobs of lower power enemies for sure, so ty tho those who recommended that. it still has not fixed my issue of dying to the 3 powerful enemies who chase me over the whole map BUT i have davrin/taash now so at LEAST i can use taunts to give myself some breathing space i hope :|

realized another way that it is frustrating me is that the camera seems weirdly hard to control during combat sometimes. i THINK that it is automatically directing a certain amount of control so that you stay facing the battlefield, but unfortunately due to the "needing to run for my life" bit when this engages it prevents me from seeing WHERE the clear areas are to run and adding to my frustration. bc like i keep either accidentally getting stuck in corners/ledges or leaving combat grounds (AND THEN EVERYONE HEALS BACK UP FUCK ME) bc i cannot simply TURN AROUND AND LOOK ABOUT. like clearly this is a feature thats supposed to be helpful and if you are playing the game a different way probably is/probably most people don't even notice but i do think it's part of whats making it hell for me rip.

like i just did the taash recruitment and during the final antaam fight was DESPERATELY trying to pan the camera to look for health potion vases to smash and it simply would not let me, and would not let me turn to move towards them, and kept forcing the camera view back to the battlefield center. i had to backwards roll basically off the map/into the water to get control of it again so i could swing the damn camera left to look for the vase and this is when it realized i was out of bounds and it gave everyone their armor/barrier and some health back and im still very mad about this. had to take a bunch of screenshots of a silly little slug lizard to calm down again.

gameplay combat comments (complaints)

jesus fucking christ i am playing a warrior next bc it SUCKS how long you have to wait to get one… i’m so fucking squishy and so is everyone else but the horrible armored mercenaries just spend all of combat SPRINTING directly at me and so i spend 15 minute dodge rolling around while neve/harding/bellara barely make a dent in them. it’s not fun!!!! this is not fun combat! WHEN WILL I FINALLY GET A TANK… like i know i’m bad at combat at the best of times but spells for mage also feel so slow i wish i could kill the animation and just get to damage bc by the time it’s gone off i have gotten stabbed 3 times and am on the brink of death

[babblingbonnabel]

🥁 | hurray for Imp and Skizz!!

Other Hermitcraft x Soul Eater designs: Stress + Iskall

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[ophernelia]

i am showing you the test hairs that i made like a child with a finger paint picture waiting for praise

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

More MDZS and Hollow Knight! The cool bugs I found in my backyard have started to unionize.

Part 1 - Part 3

[seiwas]

there is a very specific image in my head of early-mid 20’s iwaizumi hajime

[seawing-vibes]

Some sillay doodles!! Qinterwatcher + trans jade-winglet doodles <3 I tend to do these silly (very off model & probably real out of character) jade winglet doodles as warm ups & cool downs after bigger drawings !! They’re fun to do