#you can always talk Lunya with me

[hqmillioncorn]

⭐⭐Sweet Magic~!⭐⭐

Babycorn nervously turned up the flame of the stove. As her frying pan got hotter, her anxiety grew. A little voice in her head kept telling her that now wasn't the right time to grab the food with her hands. "It's too hot for that! You'll burn your tongue!" The voice told her. The voice also sounded suspiciously like her friend Lunya. "...But it's so yummy loooking!!" Babycorn whined. "You can wait a few minutes!" The Lunya in her head reminded her. Before it could say anything else, Babycorn grabbed the fried egg and stuffed it in her mouth. "OWIE!!!!!!!" Babycorn yelled and spit the egg back onto the frying pan. Lunya, who had actually been standing behind Babycorn the whole time and was NOT a voice in Babycorn's head, could do nothing but shake her head.

Lalapril 4/25 Gratitude with @windupnamazu 's Lunya lanya

welcome to coooking with babycorn!!!!!! today we're gonna be cooking!! cookies!!! or is that baking? same thing! with special guest warrior of light lunya lanya!!! yipppeee!!!!

“Okay I think I got everything…” With one last look at the ingredients balanced precariously on Cherrypit’s head Babycorn carefully opened the door to her room and let her brother waddle out.

Last time they had done this she had placed one too many things on him and that resulted in the stack hitting the top of the door and tumbling down on top of her.

She would have liked to avoid that happening again. 

As soon as Cherrypit waddled his way out into the hallway Babycorn let out a small cheer. Cherrypit lifted his arms up and also let out a small “Yippee!” All that was left for them to do now was make it to the kitchen! That would be as easy as flipping over a fried egg! 

Which of course always had to land directly onto her head. There was absolutely no other way that was done of course!

“Follow me Cherry!” Babycorn happily sang, as she skipped on ahead towards their destination. Cherrypit ran in place for a little bit before taking off right after her. He babbled something excitedly in his little baby language, probably something about how hungry he was. 

They hadn’t eaten since breakfast and that was a whole fifteen minutes ago!

Yesterday, in a spur of the moment sort of thing, Babycorn decided that she would make cookies for everyone to eat after dinner. It took her a minute to decide what kind of cookies she would make but eventually Cherrypit had the great idea of making lemon cookies. 

Initially he had suggested chocolate-chip but after learning he would have to share them, Cherrypit quickly changed his mind. 

Those lessons about sharing things with other people were still having a little trouble sticking to him sometimes. 

So lemon cookies it was! Honestly Babycorn didn’t even know cookies came in lemon flavors but it was silly of her to think otherwise. There were so many flavors out there in the world that cookies could come in any flavor! Maybe somewhere out in the world there was a cooking that tastes like mud?

She would definitely ask Lunya about it when she found her!

Babycorn knew that Lunya could do a lot of things. Like fighting, paying for really expensive things and making pretty clothes. All of which of course meant that she could obviously help her with baking cookies. “It’s like I always say-! Making cookies is just like fighting a really big sandworm!” Babycorn explained to Cherrypit. “So Lunya can totally help us!”

He nodded, though Cherrypit really had no clue what she was talking about. But if Babycorn had said it, then it must be right!  Hopefully Lunya wasn’t busy with anything else. If she was, then Babycorn could always bake cookies some other time.

Babycorn hummed a song to herself as she made her way towards the stairs leading to the basement. “Hmm…Actually, Cherry? Do you think maybe I can bake the cookies by myself?” Baking cookies wasn’t too different than juggling right? “If I can juggle I can make cookies!” She grinned, taking the first step down the staircase.

Cherrypit, who was jumping down the stairs two steps at a time, looked up and nodded. “Yeah! We can make lotsa cookies!” He bounced up and down while letting out a little cheer. The outrageously tall stack on his head jumped along with him. 

While Cherrypit knew his way around the kitchen after his time at the Culinarian’s guild the oven was still unknown territory to him. It would be really exciting to finally be able to use it!

“Yeah! We got this! That way Lunya can be surprised too!” This was such a smart idea! Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier?!

Babycorn took a single step into the basement and felt a foreboding feeling in front of her. 

“HUrK?!” Babycorn froze. She hadn’t even seen whoever it was that was standing in front of her but by instinct alone she decided that the best course of action was to hide behind Cherrypit and his comically tall stack of ingredients.

Cherrypit turned around and looked at Babycorn and then turned around again to look in front of him.

Standing in the middle of the basement was Lunya Lanya herself, arms crossed and hair flowing dramatically behind her. All while looking like she was trying really hard not to burst out giggling. “Hi Lulu!” Cherrypit waved over at Lunya without a care in the world. He babbled and wiggled around happily when Lunya waved back at him.

“Hi Cherry!” Somehow Lunya had been the ones to find Babycorn and Cherrypit instead of the other way around. 

It made sense. After all, it was said that Lunya had some sort of sixth-sense when it came to knowing when Babycorn was about to make a poor decision about anything.

Or when she was about ten minutes from setting the kitchen on fire.

It occasionally overlapped. 

Cherrypit waved his arms around excitedly and waddled over to Lunya, the squeaking of his shoes walking away from her let Babycorn know that she was no longer safe. “YEEP?!" Babycorn hastily stood up and looked around. When she spotted Lunya her worries mostly disappeared. 

“Lunyaaaaaa!!” she cried out, running towards her with open arms. 

Babycorn screeched to a halt right in front of her

Is what I would have said if that actually happened, but no, instead Babycorn tripped and sent herself flying over Lunya and right into a wall.

“AH?! Babycorn?!” Lunya flinched as the sound of Babycorn colliding with the wall sounded through the basement. It wasn’t the first time this had happened and it probably wouldn’t be the last either. Both her and Cherrypit ran over to check to see if Babycorn was okay. “Bebe? Bebe hurt?” Cherrypit asked, looking up at Lunya to see what she would do next. 

“UWuawuaguwgauwaguUWUA…” Babycorn had bounced off the wall after hitting it directly with her face. There was a red mark on her forehead but otherwise it looked like she was fine, if not a little dizzy. It was best to make sure though.

Lunya had the idea of asking Babycorn how many fingers she was holding up but she thought of a better question. “Babycorn if you had to choose between eating a worm or a banana split, which one would you pick?” 

“I would choose both of em’. Ahahaha…..” 

Lunya sighed, “Well she’s fine.” She flicked a simple benefic at her forehead to heal the wound away. Her attention turned now instead to making sure Cherrypit wasn’t scared. 

She pulled out a small lollipop from the pocket of her shorts. The lollipop was shaped like the head of a namazu. “Here Cherry!” She made sure to take the wrapper off the candy right in front of him so maybe he could remember for next time. “You were really brave just now, good job!” 

Cherrypit bit down on the lollipop and pulled it from Lunya’s hand. “Mmmhmhmmh!!” He thanked her the best he could. Then he crunched down the lollipop and swallowed it whole, plastic stick and all. 

Lunya made a note to herself to remind BOTH siblings that you weren’t supposed to eat that part. 

“LUNYA!!!!!!” Babycorn suddenly screamed.

“NyAAAAHAHA?!” 

Babycorn had sprung back to life and was back to standing on her own two feet, albeit a little off balance. “There you are! Me and Cherry have been looking for you for the past…” Babycorn paused, it looked like she was concentrating really hard on something.

She raised up her hands and began counting with her fingers. “One…Two…Three…” 

Until she gasped, holding up her hands towards Lunya, “Five! We’ve been looking for you for five minutes!” That was a pretty long time! Wasn’t it?! “We need your help with something! If you don’t mind!” 

“Don’ mind!” Cherrypit repeated. 

“I don’t mind! I’m happy to help.” Lunya nodded. There was a sense of apprehension though, considering what was standing right in front of her. “Does whatever you want help with happen to involve that…?” Lunya pointed at the giant stack of assorted things on top of Cherrypit’s head. 

For some reason Lunya couldn’t actually tell where it ended. 

‘Yeah! It does!” Babycorn gestured over to the tall stack of things still perfectly balanced on Cherrypit’s head. “I got everything we need to make lemon cookies!” Babycorn took a look around to see if anyone was listening. “I wanted to make some for everyone. As a thank you” For what? Babycorn didn’t quite know. The urge just hit her suddenly, maybe it was a thanks for putting up with her since the beginning? For still letting her pal around? She really had no clue.

Lunya smiled warmly, “That sounds nice! I’m sure everyone would love some! Including me!” 

“I knew it!” Babycorn beamed, tapping her feet excitedly in place, “And since you’re helping you can get extra cookies!” That’s how it worked after all.

“I was planning to get extra either way!!” 

If the cookies were edible this time at least.

Lunya took a closer look at the tower of ingredients. Traveling from the top all the way from the bottom she could see things like milk, a huge bag of flour and eggs all separately stacked on top of each other. For a moment Lunya worried over not seeing lemons along with the other ingredients but chances were Babycorn was just going to borrow some from the kitchen anyway.

It was a pleasant surprise to see Babycorn using edible ingredients to make something for once. 

Before Lunya could even congratulate Babycorn on a job well done, she noticed her pulling something out of her braids. Something that had no less business being in there than her usual baby corns did.

Babycorn proudly flashed a familiar shape in front of her. “I even got these cute little B’ig Nunh shaped cookie cutters!” Babycorn wiggle it around with a giggle. 

“We are not using those~!” At this point Lunya was getting worried with how much B’ig merchandise Babycorn was somehow getting her hands on.

“Okie dokie!” Babycorn tossed the cookie cutters over her shoulder with such ease that you would think she probably had ten more of them at home. Which would be wrong. She has thirty. “Okay! Let’s gooooooooo Cherry!” 

Babycorn took off running towards the kitchen with Cherrypit right behind her. 

“Babycorn don’t run so fast!” Lunya shouted, chasing after the pair of siblings. At this point she would have hoped that Babycorn would remember that she wasn’t allowed inside of the kitchen by herself. 

And having Cherrypit around didn’t count, as many people had explained to her already. 

Not after the cereal combustion incident two years prior…

As Babycorn narrowly dodged running straight into a chair, she pulled up to a stepstool and climbed up to the top. Then she slammed her hands on the counter, “Okay Cherry! I’m ready!”. On cue Cherrypit gave her a tiny salute and expertly threw the stack of things off his head which all landed neatly around Babycorn. Including an apron that just kind of fell on Babycorn’s head.

Lunya clapped alongside Babycorn, “Wow! Good job Cherry!” At this point Lunya noticed that Cherrypit had also brought along with him some tools for measuring and even a mixing bowl for everything. “Babycorn, did you actually bring all of this…?” It was almost too good to be true. 

“Yuppers!” Babycorn nodded, as she tied the apron in front of her. “I’ve been watching people make cookies all week and I memorized what they were using!” 

“Oh? Is that so?”

“Yeah!” 

Lunya put her arms behind her back and smiled, “And you didn’t happen to take these things from Himbo’s room did you?”

“N-No…? Of course not!”

“Oh course not!” Lunya grabbed a measuring cup and turned it around to see the insignia of a beaver on it. “So I’ll just go tell him that a raccoon broke into his room and stole his things!” 

“What?! No it wasn’t a raccoon! It was me!!” Babycorn couldn’t cover her mouth with her hands fast enough. “I-I mean…!”

“HA-! Wait no. Give me a second.” Lunya quickly ran out of the kitchen and into the designated break room.

Babycorn and Cherrypit sat there in silence with only the sound of distant rummaging while they waitied for Lunya to come back. When she finally did, she was holding a similar step stool to the one Babycorn was standing on. Lunya ran over and placed the step stool next to Babycorn and climbed up until both girls were almost at the same height. 

Lunya pointed a finger directly at Babycorn. “HA! Got you.” She did a little excited bounce and wiggled her arm around. 

“Noooooooooooooooo!” Babycorn wailed, “How did you knooooow it was meeeee?!” 

“Well you pretty much admitted it.” 

“That’s true!” 

Lunya felt something poke at her side, when she looked down she noticed Cherrypit standing right under her. There was a big bag of flour on top of his head. “Lulu!” He jumped up and down to show her what was on top of his head, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Can you open the flour?” Babycorn asked, she put her hands together. “I couldn’t open it! I thought I could but it's really really strong! Please please please please!”

“Okay, okay! You don’t have to beg.” Lunya moved her hands in a calming motion to ease Babycorn’s worries. Cherrypit walked closer to her and moved his head in such a way that Lunya could easily reach the flour. “Alright! Let’s start making these cookies!” She grabbed the bag of flour by both ends and pulled them apart. Thanks to her strength the bag of flour opened with ease. The bag let out a white puff of flour in defeat.  

“Yippppeee!!!” Cherrypit and Babycorn let out a cheer as Lunya poured some of the flour into a bowl. “Go! Go! Lunya! Yaaaaay!!!”

Lunya blushed lightly, “Aw you two…” At this point Lunya was well aware that both Starsinger siblings cheered at just about everything that she did. No matter what it was. And for some reason she always felt a little more energized after hearing it. Not only her but other people too…

Surely it was nothing. 

Lunya took the still sorta full bag of flour and went to carry it out of the way. “Okay Babycorn what’s-?” She began to ask, but her question would never see the light of day because Babycorn would cut her off with something that chilled Lunya to her very core.

“Okay thanks for the help Lunya! We’ll take it from here!” 

Lunya stopped in her tracks and looked back at Babycorn, dropping the flour right where she stood. Her eyes were shut and a wide smile was frozen on her face. 

“Eh?” What had she just said? “What do you mean?” 

“We only needed your help opening the flour! Me and Cherry will bake all the cookies so you don’t have to worry about anything!” Babycorn was wildly waving a wooden spoon around in the air. Cherrypit grabbed a smaller metal spoon and held it in his mouth. “Cookies!!” He gleefully shouted.

Lunya looked around the kitchen. There sure were a lot of things in here that were flammable. And pointy, And poisonous. And capable of causing tummy aches. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind helping!” 

“Yeah I’m sure!” Babycorn grabbed an egg and handed it to Cherrypit. He cracked it on the edge of the bowl and expertly dropped the insides into the bowl. “I promise I’m not gonna set the kitchen on fire again or stab myself or eat something I’m not supposed to!” 

Given Babycorn’s past history Lunya had a very valid reason for not quite being convinced of Babycorn’s claims.

On the other hand, Babycorn had brought all the right ingredients for making lemon cookies. Cherrypit was also with her and she had seen his cooking skills first hand during a barbeque last month. 

Babycorn was even using the measuring tools she had (admittedly) stolen to measure things and asking Cherrypit if it was okay before adding it in.

And she wasn’t even taking a bite of the raw ingredients?!

Could it be that Babycorn was…LEARNING?!

Dare she say, Lunya was feeling more than a little proud. It almost brought a tear to her eye.

“Okay Babycorn!” Lunya took a step back to walk out of the kitchen. As she neared the exit Lunya let out a little cheer of her own, “You and Cherrypit got this! Don’t keep all us waiting! Because I’m sure those cookies will be super yummy!”

“Thanks Lunya! I promise me and Cherry are gonna make them taste super duper yummy!” Babycorn did an excited little dance and waved Lunya a short little goodbye before looking back at her counter in front of her. “Okay time for the secret ingredient!” 

Then, Babycorn pulled out a bottle of Lemon-scented dish soap with a hearty Tada! Cherrypit mimicked his sister and said the world's squeakiest tada! after her.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?!) he did not have a smaller version of dish soap with him. 

Lunya’s eyes widened to an almost absurd degree. The speed at which she turned and ran back into the kitchen could not be understated. She was almost afraid to ask, but it had to be done. “Babycorn. Why do you have that?”

Let it be known that it was a brand new bottle too. “I just bought it today!” Babycorn helpfully explained. 

Then without breaking eye contact with Lunya once, Babycorn began to empty the entire bottle of dish soap into the bowl full of flour. An aroma of lemony freshness soon began to overtake the entire kitchen as Babycorn smiled. “Yummy! Yummy! Yummyyyy~!” Babycorn happily sang to herself. 

The dough was starting to smell really good so that obviously meant that the cookies would taste just as good too! 

Lunya could do nothing but stare in horrified silence, her mouth agape. 

“B-B-B-B-Babycorn y-you really shouldn’t…” Lunya tried to say. But there was no stopping Babycorn at this point. Lunya could now only watch helplessly as Babycorn added an entire bag of bird feed into the bowl alongside the dish soap.

Needless to say, no one but Babycorn and Cherrypit touched those cookies that night.

[b-rainlet]

📂 for Lunya since no one else ships it?

Oh boy do I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about Lunya. A. LOT.

And I probably already babbled about all of them but I just love them so much, you know? That’s an actual OTP where I’m like ‘with some build up….and some healing time thrown in-between….this actually could work out in canon’

So yeah, tua producers, if you’re out there, hire me. I’ll build this ship out of the ashes you left behind with that Season One Finale.

For instance I am convinced that Luther always, always included Vanya on family matters. Luther is so hell bound on protecting his family and he’s one of the sibs who actually genuinely sees all of them as his siblings (except maybe Allison lmao) and he keeps including Vanya in decisions that are about them as a family and not the superhero team (Grace, for example).

So most of their childhood was probably him knocking on her door like “Hey Vanya, we’re gonna sneak out and eat donuts until we puke-, well, until I puke. Wanna come?”

Or “Vanya, are you coming to Ben’s room tonight? We’ll stay up ‘til midnight for our birthday!”

Or even “Vanya come quick, Klaus and Diego have a breath holding contest and I think Klaus is gonna pass out soon! Let’s see how long it takes until he remembers Diego can hold his breath forever.”

But I am also convinced that he never gets an actual answer from her, Vanya pointedly ignoring him until he falters and goes “Well….okay then. Tell me when you change your mind.” and runs back to the others.

Because she thinks he isn’t doing it because he wants to have her there but because he feels somehow indebted to include her - being Number One and everything.

And even if he wants her there, the others surely don’t.

(I see Vanya as standing in her own way a lot of the time because she’s afraid she’s gonna get shut out again the moment she dares to hope).

Still, Luther never stops trying. Never.

“C’mon Luther, we’re gonna be late! She’s gonna say no anyway, she always says no!”

And still he will run up to her room, jacket hanging off one shoulder and shoes still untied.

“You gonna sneak to the cinema with us? They’re showing a horror movie!”

This goes on until he comes up to her room one day to see her packing.

“What’s going on?” - “I’m leaving for college.”

And that’s it. No other explanation. No real goodbye.

(Luther still hugs her, even though she freezes up when he presses his nose into her hair. This is his little sister after all, he has to react somehow).

“Well….take care of yourself. Call, if there’s anything…..when you need something. From Me. Or someone else. Or Me.”

And Vanya nods, eyes shifting to the side and they both know she’s not gonna call.

They don’t see each other for at least 11 years. Luther misses her like he misses everyone, like he misses the old times. Like he misses earth.

But being back isn’t better either because it all ends in chaos and betrayal between those two and there’s a lot of hurt there, hurt they haven’t even acknowledged yet.

There’s a fight at one point, a few weeks after the planned apocalypse, on their second try. A month after they’ve already experienced the apocalypse but who can keep track at this point?

And there’s screaming on Vanya’s part, a lot of it, and some plates flying without hands throwing them but there isn’t any white bleeding into Vanya’s eyes so Luther feels safe enough just letting her rant.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through! Always Dad’s favourite-” - “Wait, you think I was Dad’s favourite?”

They both thought the other was Reggie’s favourite.

“You always spent so much time with Dad, you were always so close to him….”

“You had so much free time. You could do whatever you wanted to, could have any hobby you wanted…”

“You were allowed on missions and you were allowed to talk to the press and you called the shots as Number One….”

“You never had to train a day in your life, no lifting weights until you passed out….”

“I always thought Dad loved you…” - “I always thought Dad loved you.”

And by the end of it they realize that neither of them were their Father’s favourite. That both of them had a horrible time but while Vanya was always outspoken about it, Luther only now realizes that maybe he had been abused too.

Basically all my Lunya ideas, hcs and wips involve slow burn and a lot of hurt/comfort, with those two realizing how similar they are.

I leave you with an image that didn’t leave my head all day:

Vanya slowly - deliberately - kissing the self harm scars on Luther’s arms, the ones that happened when Luther got too frustrated in his own skin, got tired of trying to rip away the fur and leather only for it to grow back and just wanted to hurt, to make it last at least this once.

Vanya holding his arms as he presents them to her, wrists up, and her leaning down to trail the lines of red with her lips as Luther watches with wide eyes. Gently draws one arm back so he can reach out and tug a strand of hair behind Vanya’s ear, can trace her cheek with his fingertips as she keeps kissing his skin.

[whitherliliesbloom]

eyes fixed upon a shiny ray

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #24 - illustrious ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,858 words ]  ★ [ aetherweave au ]

witch / wizard academy au i’ve never written for. features mintdrop’s totomi and windupdragoon’s kirishimi. mentions heirsofdiscord’s moth’ir, ancientecho’s laurelis, peachteaoni’s lily and windupnamazu’s lunya.

illustrious-  famous, well respected, and admired

asking the star student of the most prestigious magic academy in eorzea out to the end of year prom is as daunting as it sounds

“Gods, sulk all you want, but can you at least stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.” Alisaie sighs heavily, resisting the urge to yell only because she knew full well that her voice would echo through the halls at lightning speed, and she’s already been reprimanded for noise disruptions one too many times in the past now. 

Where she sat atop the wooden desk, she glared down at her twin, who has been walking laps around the back of the classroom with his hands plastered upon his chin for the past 10 minutes now. Alisaie had hoped to spend her free period practicing Blitz Ball, but it would seem that her brother and practically the rest of the academy was far more hung up about the upcoming end of year promenade dance, and she’s close to getting sick of all the endless chatter about who everyone was going to ask out as their dance partner.

The young witch in training had about just the same amount of interest in her brother’s love life as she did history of the arcane arts, which is to say none at all. But family is family... and if Alphinaud failed in his endeavor to ask out the girl he’s had his eyes set on for the past year now, she will never hear the end of his relentless mutters.

“Just ask her directly. It’s not that hard is it?” Thancred thinks to chime in from two desks away, fiddling with his jet black wand. 

And though Alisaie wholeheartedly agrees with Thancred’s assessment, she cannot bring herself to pass up the opportunity to call him out either.

“Hah, like you’re one to talk. How long again did it take for you to ask out Moth’ir? And you’ve known for what, almost your entire life now?” 

Light banter and friendly, healthy amounts of spite is normal among their group, and Thancred seems to be unaffected by Alisaie’s words as he throws his hand up and shrugs with an unapologetic smile. 

Alphinaud doesn’t stop pacing - not until he feels a light zap of lightning strike his bare hand and jolt him out of his focus, his head turned up to look at the wide chesire grin of the transfer student who twirled his leopard patterned wand between his index and middle finger playfully. Internally, Alisaie thanks the high heavens.

“Hien!” Alphinaud’s voice is a mixture of accusatory, confused and startled, and the raven haired student could only let out a hearty laugh before leaning himself back against the wall.

“Relax! A little jolt won’t kill you.” Hien begins waving his wand recklessly in the air, no doubt asking for reprimand if a teacher were present. “Anyways.. Who’s the lucky girl who’s caught the eye of our Alphinaud here? Must be someone quite special for him to be so nervous.”

Everyone’s eyes collectively widen, now fixed upon Hien as Thancred opts to answer on behalf of his friend.

“You don’t know? It’s Illya. It’s always been Illya.”

“Mm... Sorry, the name doesn’t ring any bells.”

The silence lingers a little longer now, as the other three exchange wide eyed glances of shock between them. 

“Y-you.. you don’t know Illya?” Alphinaud sounds utterly taken aback, and Alisaie almost speaks up to remind him that not everyone would be as enamored with the star student of Aetherweave as he is. 

“The little witch of a thousand miracles? Lady of the endless garden? The viola nebula? The star blossom? The tamer of the beasts? The one who pulls down the stars and wears them under her hat?” As he listed off the top of his head some of the most famous titles that had belonged to the object of his infatuations, Hien could only hum softly in thought as a response.

“I’ve heard of a few of those titles... I didn’t think they were all referring to the same person, however. Just how many names does she go by?”

Had it been anybody else, Alisaie would have probably accuse them for living under a rock - because anyone who has studied at Aetherweave academy would certainly not go long without hearing of Illya’s name. She didn’t know a single person in the academy who has not heard of at least one of the girl’s heroic exploits with her friends. 

Hien however was a transfer student, one who came from a sister academy back in the Far East only a few months ago, and despite having settled into his new surroundings comfortably, is still not entirely aware of all the gossip and rumors that run rampant in the magical halls of Aetherweave. 

“More like.. what name doesn’t she go by.” Alisaie’s shoulder rises and falls. “Have you heard of what happened just three months ago? About the Guardian Tree at Everschade?”

“That rings a bell. It was in the process of dying but somehow magically got rejuvenated and started to bloom purple flowers, didn’t it?”

“That was her doing.”

Now, Hien’s eyes are wide in surprise, letting out an elongated whistle as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“By the kami...”

“She was also one of the few students in the academy to have not only met but also tamed a wild wyrm. They say her new dragon friend, Midgardsormr is sitting right in her backyard.” Alphinaud adds, “Her friends and her were also the ones who were at the front of the charge in the winter of last year, defending the school when there was a surge of Sineaters coming from Lakeland.” His hand rises up to hold his chin. “Not to mention, she’s a top student. She’s consistently been in the top 5 of our year when it comes to grades. And her command over magic is praised even by grandfather himself.” 

Praise coming from Archon Louisoix himself? That certainly is something worth prestige and recognition. Rightfully impressed now, Hien’s lips turn upwards into smirk as he turns to look back at the boy. 

“Well, I can see why you’d like her. What’s the problem then, friend? Is she not easy to get along with?”

At Hien’s suggestion, Alphinaud quickly shakes his head.

“Oh, no, she’s not like that. She’s very approachable. Perhaps a bit...shy, and not very good at speaking to strangers at all, but she’s a wonderful person. Perhaps... a bit too nice, is all.”

With his response, Alphianud drops his head with a heavy sigh and casts his glance downwards onto the floor in exasperation, and it prompts Hien to hold back any further questions. He merely turns to look at Alisaie and Thancred, who can only frown and shrug respectively in silence.

It wasn’t that Alphinaud hasn’t tried to ask the girl out - he’s been trying to for months now, well before even the details of the promenade dance had been released and he saw it as a good opportunity to finally ask the girl out to be his dance partner. 

He’s tried many times, and failed spectacularly an equal amount. 

Perhaps as a result of her kindness, Illya has found herself surrounded by a group of other equally individualistic and unique friends who, in one way or another, has interrupted Alphinaud’s attempts to ask her out at least once. 

He remembers Illya’s best friend, Laurelis, a joyful miqo’te girl who was well aware of his affections for her friend and is even the most enthused out of all of Illya’s circle about helping them get together... but has also unknowingly sabotaged his attempt to ask the girl out to movie date when she’d pulled Illya to town right after school for an impromptu shopping trip.

Lunya, a sharp-tongued girl who had been in a different class from Illya had been ecstatic to find that her friend, who she would not normally get much time to study with, had opted to take the same astrology and fortune telling electives as her. And for the three months that they had been together, she would always swiftly pull Illya away from him with a protective glare. 

And Lily, who studied in the year above them and was close and dating Illya’s pseudo big-brother figure, had busied Illya with the task of tutoring her after class on how to become better at healing magicks, an endeavor that took up almost all of Illya’s spare time and he could not in good conscious ask her to abandon her close friend’s heartfelt request - especially after learning that her wish to become better at healing stemmed from an accident that Kaye had almost sustained a fatal wound for during last year’s battle against the Sineaters. 

He can no longer keep track of the number of times he’d failed in his attempts, let alone take into account his own confidence beginning to waver... but the two golden foil tickets and a pressed lily in his pocket weighs heavy, and as Tataru and Krile had so eloquently egged him on and warned him, he might not get another chance ever again if he missed this one. 

“OI! HIEN!” A loud, boisterous voice calls out, and a loud thud and an ‘oof’ from Hien sounds out, followed by a breathless chuckle as he shakes the woman who had tackled him against the wall off himself. 

“Kiri, your greetings are enthusiastic as ever, but we’re in the middle of something now.” 

“Huh?” Mismatched eyes finally turn to look at the twins and Thancred, and she lets out a nonchalant shrug. “Oh. Uh, sorry I guess. I can leave ya guys to it then.”

“No, it’s quite alright, Kirishimi.” Alphinaud smiles warmly at his senior, the tone of his voice amiable as ever. “We weren’t talking about anything important.” 

“I didn’t know you considered you not being able to ask Illya out to prom as being unimportant.” His twin sister snickers, and Alphinaud bites back an aggrieved huff. 

“Alisaie-”

“Illya?” Kirishimi’s expression lights up, ears perking as she places her hands upon her hips and gestures towards the direction of the front entrance of the school. “Speakin’ of her, I think she’s leavin’ to go on a date with someone. I saw them going down the stairs after I passed by her classroom and they were talking about uh... ‘desserts’ or something.”

“W-What? A date?” There’s panic evident in her voice, normally already fair complexion on the elezen boy rapidly paling now as he takes a step towards the taller woman. “Is...Isn’t it still in the middle of the school period?? They can’t possibly-”

“Town’s only a few minutes walk away though?” Kiri retorts with a shrug, “They’ll have plenty of time before the next module an hour later... and maybe they’ll even have time enough to work in a kiss or somethin’-”

“I-I... I have to-” Before even hearing the rest of Kirishimi’s sentence, Alphinaud finds himself bolting out of the classroom door and down the hallway towards winding flights of stairs and talking paintings, who chime out in surprise and ask a collective series of ‘where are you going?’ which goes unanswered.

Thancred turns to look at Kiri, a suspicious glint in his eye as he quirks an eyebrow out. 

“She’s not really going on a date, is she?”

Kiri merely shrugs, a mischievious smirk plastered on her face as Hien wraps a proud arm around her shoulder, an equally triumphant grin upon his face.

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

By the time Alphinaud’s found himself past a few feet in front of the building, and sees a familiar curtain of swaying white hair and a tall witch hat crowned upon it walking towards the fountain in the middle of the academy square and towards the front gates of Aetherweave, he’s already rapidly short of breath and found his legs aching, his lungs gasping and burning desperately for air. 

But he doesn’t allow himself to stop- cannot allow himself to stop as he swallows back the lump in his throat and continues sprinting forwards, his voice calling out to her loudly from across the pathway.

“Illya! Illya wait!” 

He thanks the twelve when he sees the lalafellin girl stop in her tracks and turn around with a bewildered expression, her companion beside her equally startled and stopping  next to her as well - though he pays no mind to them... cannot bring himself to exert enough energy to focus on anyone other than Illya. 

It isn’t until he gets closer to the pair, sweat trickling down his brow, his chest heaving as he pants for air heavily and his hands gripping onto his knees as he lurches forward does he finally recognize just who the mysterious student that Illya has decided to go on a ‘date’ with.

“W-wait.... wait a minute..” Alphinaud mutters in between huffs and sharp inhales, navy blue eyes staring down at a lalafellin with familiar straight cut bangs and ruby red eyes. “M-m.... Mint?!” 

Mint.... is Illya’s date? The genki self-proclaimed witch idol peppermint?? Who also happens to be dating his friend Estinien??? She’s who Kirishimi tricked him into thinking was Illya’s date?!

“Whaddya want Alphinaud??” Peppermint lets out a huff and a pout, seemingly unconcerned at his haggard state as she crosses her arms over her chests. “Illya promised to get cream puffs with me during our break time. If you wanna have some, you’ll have to get in line!”

“W-what...? That’s not...”

Twelve forfend... He’s been deceived utterly and completely... He’d like to think he would be a bit more perceptive and intuitive enough to know when he’s being lied to or played but... it would seem like all sense of rationality of his flies out the window when it comes to Illya.

The girl in question merely gazes up at him with concern swirling in her lustrous violet eyes as she tightens her hold on the book she had been holding close to her chest. 

“A-are you okay, Alphinaud?”

The worry in Illya’s voice urges Alphinaud to quickly swallow and give her a nod, a reassuring smile gracing his features despite his drained complexion.

“I’m... I’m quite alright. Thank you, Illya.” 

His heart skips a beat when his smile is mirrored by her, and the radiance of her presence is almost enough to leave him dumb and speechless until she speaks up once more to question him.

“Did you need something from me? You seemed like you were in a hurry-”

Oh seven hells... how is he going to explain his way out of this now? He could make perfectly reasonable and well timed excuses for his other failed attempts... and he could just as easily lie to her and say that it was nothing now... 

But he knows not only would that arouse suspicion, especially with someone as perceptive to people’s lies and intentions as Illya was... but it’d perhaps put her on edge around him in the future. 

And though he’d have liked to invite Illya to prom in private and free of an audience member consisting of someone from her circle of friends, he’s already made a right fool of himself and caused a scene between them.... So to hide away or run from the situation would be...

With a defeated sigh, Alphinaud fishes out one of the tickets from his uniform pocket and holds it out to the girl with trembling fingers, watching in anticipation as her own starspangled eyes widen in shock. 

“I-I.... I just wanted to ask... If you would perhaps like to go to prom with me?”

The normally talkative Mint is now completely silent, holding back impish cheers and laughter as she merely steps back to pump her fist in the air, leaving Illya on her lonesome as a heat quickly spreads across the girl’s fair cheeks and reddens the bridge of her nose. 

It doesn’t take much thought at all for Illya to raise a hand up to take the ticket from him, gazing down thoughtfully at the reflective golden foil and the silver letterings etched into the shimmering surface until she finally remembers to nod in answer.

“Um... Y-yes... I would love to-”

---------

Illya is grateful that nobody else other than Mint had been around to bear witness to what happened, or she’d be certain that the whole school would be privvy to the gossip before sundown. 

Mint’s teasing and chattering is enough on it’s own to deal with, as the girl cheerily munches into her cream puff and speaks in a hushed tone to the violet eyed girl on the other side of the table. 

“I’m so glad for you, Illya! Now you don’t have to worry at all!”

“Y-yeah... I-I suppose so..” The heat from Illya’s cheeks hasn’t dissipated, and she stares into the reflection of the warm milk tea in her hands. “B-but.. what am I supposed to do with the love letter? I’ve been working on it for weeks and now-”

Mint pauses for a moment, cheeks puffed up and full of food as she continues to chew and darts her eyes up to the white ceiling in thought.

“Hm... Well you can still give it to him! Maybe during the prom or something? I’m sure he’ll appreciate it very much!”

[fistsoflightning]

04 - chrysopoeia

baleful: foreboding or threatening evil. [Make-up for 9/12.] Thancred/Zaya, 2.9k words. Shadowbringers, post-’More Than A Hunch���.  Content warning for slight body horror. This fill starts out funny and quickly nosedives into angst! How did I do this to myself! 

After absorbing Storge's aether, Zaya starts to turn at an accelerated rate, which is terrible for both their mental health and the ongoing existence of the First. Great. (At least it looks kind of cool.)

“I never thought I’d be saying this, much less to you,” Thancred said, low but playful and kind as he set down a large paper bag on the dresser to their right, “But I’d rather not see you undress for me.”

Zaya stopped with their tattered coat balled up in their hands to look up at him. His face was carefully even, only the hint of a smirk toying at the corners of his mouth. Thancred’s emotions had dulled by the time Zaya made their way to the First, worn down by time (and trauma, but neither of them liked to talk about it), but Zaya could still guess their way through his expressions and posture, most of the time. 

They raised their hand towards his head, tilting their head as he blinked at them. Waited until Thancred leaned down, took their hand, and pressed the pads of their fingers to his temple. Relished the way he leaned, just a bit, into their hand.

And then they threw their balled-up coat into his face, hands moving to their hips as he sputtered and stumbled back.

Zaya tried not to laugh. Some of that was for show, and Zaya didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Only taking off the coat, you idiot.

“Of course, of course. Just joking about,” he acquiesced, one hand raised up in surrender before Zaya could peel off their gloves and toss them at his chest. He took their coat off his face with the hand not in the air, lifting it up and examining it. “Shame about the coat, though. It suited you.”

Zaya hummed, fiddling with the torn edges of their shirt. Raubahn said it did. Forced me to take it before I went to the Rising Stones to come here. Said my other jacket deserved some repairs and took that one to the best weaver he knew.

“Hm. We’ll have to apologize for needing to burn this one, then,” Thancred said, lifting up one of the sleeve ends where the blood from entirely too many sin eaters had stained it pure white. “Chessamile took one look and called your outfit a safety hazard for the Crystarium’s water supply. I’m inclined to agree.”

Have Alisaie put it on her training dummy, Zaya said, half-joking. Easier than going out and setting a fire.

Thancred made a considering noise. “Note taken. Go and get dressed—I’ll figure out something for you to eat?” When Zaya shook their head, he shrugged. “Something for myself, then, but do tell if you change your mind.”

The bag is clothes? Zaya picked up the paper bag, unrolling the top. Something inside clinked together—metal, maybe?

Thancred walked away with a soft huff. “Yes. The Exarch caught wind of me trying to find you a new set while you were out and took it upon himself to see you furnished with the best the Crystarium can currently offer. I went ahead and added a tank top to the pile—what was delivered is similar to Lunya’s robes, but I haven’t ever seen you with your stomach exposed, so.”

I do not like getting cold, Zaya said with a sniff. The first costume they wore in Ul’dah as a gladiator had always made them shiver, when they had to walk home after matches, and after earning the privilege to a damn shirt (even if they couldn’t close it) they’d decided to never go back. Thank you.

“Of course,” Thancred replied over the screen as Zaya moved behind it, the soft clink of a plate and cup being moved around following—somewhere by the cabinets, maybe. Before, Zaya might have been able to tell exactly where in the room he stood, but the crystal that replaced the missing bits of their horn made it—hard. Not impossible; they’d dealt with their horns being cracked or broken before and lived (which was very, very concerning and not at all normal, according to that healer who kept Hanami alive), but this was different. Minfilia said something about it before she left, permanently this time—something about dark matter, but for their horn? Attuning aether? Gradual adjustment? It was all scrambled with the fights in Malikah’s Well and the pain from Storge’s light, but she explained in too-complicated words that in time, everything should return to as it was before they wedged themselves between a rock and a giant minecart. 

Lucky them. All it took was the closest thing to divine intervention Zaya would accept.

Zaya slipped their undershirt and bra over their head and tossed them aside before they could get upset again about being saved at the cost of someone else’s life and never fucking deserving it, again. If Thancred felt the sudden flash of upset in his head before Zaya could reel it back in, he only started humming in response.

Rather than fish around and hope to pull out the right part first, Zaya settled for dumping out the contents of the bag onto the bed. The expected fabric of the himation came first—pleasant dark blues, blacks, and blue-grays—followed by the tank top, a pair of sleeve-like fingerless gloves, pants, and a whole assortment of golden chains and silver bangles, decorated with deep red rubies and sapphires.

Zaya raised an eyebrow as they lifted up one of the golden pieces into the air. They’d definitely seen Lunya wearing the same thing often enough to know it went across their shoulder. Do we need to pay the Exarch back?

Thancred chuckled. “I’d thought you’d enjoy being able to cover yourself in shiny new accessories.”

This is just excessive, they said, already accepting their fate. It wasn’t like they were upset with it or anything. It just felt… extravagant, especially when the clothes had been ordered by the Exarch, who supposedly knew very little about them besides what he could observe. Where did they even find star sapphires and rubies?

“You’re the expert, not me.”

Zaya hummed, setting the chains and decorative half-pauldron back down, looking at the himation and deciding to start there. From between the layers, they tugged out what was probably supposed to go on first.

“How are you feeling?” Thancred asked once the sound of plates and glasses was replaced by a knife carefully thudding against a chopping board, as if he didn’t know the worst of it.

Zaya snorted as they pulled on the new bra, a small noise escaping their mouth when it fit almost perfectly. Tight enough not to bother them when they did a few experimental movements, but loose enough not to make them hate it. Strange—did the Exarch have their measurements? Like Vishap returned from the dead and stomped on me.  

“Anything more… measurable? Y’shtola asked for a status update, mind, and none of us puny mortals have been stomped on by Vishap.”

Like… physical changes?

Thancred hummed in agreement. “That would do. I’ve noticed a few things on my own, but I didn’t wish to invade your privacy.”

Zaya nodded, a momentary slip as they stepped towards the vanity and peered into the mirror. It wasn’t hard to notice that their skin had gone pale, the still-fading burn scars on their forearms from the hit they blocked from that stupid bucket-wielding Talos, or the shard of sky blue crystal inlaid in their horn, glimmering in the low light. Still of note, but not what Thancred was asking after.

Running their fingers over theirs scales revealed just how dry they were, almost like stone—the last time they shed was just barely a month ago, from around the time of felling Eros and the deal with Hosiotes, which meant not great things about the state of their scales. When they turned over their arm to look at their wrists, Zaya noticed the blue of their veins had been replaced with thin lines of gold, starting from just below their wrist and trailing up and past the scars on their arms.

The only eaters Zaya remembered seeing with gold were the more advanced ones—and Storge, of course. Giant gold coin with wings. Who could forget.

The other things they took note of were smaller—more spots of gold dotting the scales on their legs and their nails, stiff joints and muscles, a constant ache in the bones of their fingers, bone white patches of hair—save for one thing. They hadn’t been out cold for that long, if Thancred was telling the truth; a little over a day. 

And yet their back was aching. Zaya reached back, expecting a muscle knot or three from their exertion in the Well, instead skimming over six almost-knots, in two rows of three centered on their spine. Pressing down on them sent a shock of pain up their neck. Strange.

When they turned around to check their back in the mirror, thin lines of gold were radiating out from the scales ending at the base of their neck, down the curve of their shoulderblades and around where the strange tightness in Zaya’s back rested. The skin on their back looked almost papery, like if Zaya brushed their fingers over it they might just crack. Some of the scales closer to their hips had the same gold lines, and when Zaya shifted to look closer, they shifted in the light. More cracks running down their lower back.

Shit. How many wings did Storge have, again?

“So?” Thancred’s inquiring voice broke them out of their spiral. “How does it look?”

Zaya swallowed around the lump in their throat. Took a deep breath. Not sure. Come here? I’m decent enough.

They heard him set down the knife and hurry over with quick steps, only pausing just in front of the screen before stepping past it, meeting Zaya’s gaze before they turned to show him their back.

“Bad,” he declared after a moment, running his fingers down the golden lines of their veins only to stop when Zaya shivered. A small hiss escaped his mouth when he saw the white patch of hair at the nape of their neck, the gilded lines trailing from the scales below it. “I don’t know what the Exarch was thinking when he made this damned plan. This can’t be good.”

It doesn’t matter now, they said. I would have done it even if someone else offered to take it.

Thancred looked into the mirror in front of them with a frown. “And now you’re steps closer to death.”

Zaya shrugged. Comes with the territory.

Not that it made it any better. Zaya resolutely avoided thinking about their back as Thancred helped them slip on the rest of the himation and the gloves, covering up what they both didn’t want to see. At least they knew Thancred was being partly serious about not wanting to see them undress earlier. Having been here for five years, he’d probably seen others on the verge of turning.

It was only when Thancred forced them to sit down, noticing their shaking hands, that he said something else. “...Have you looked at your eyes, recently?”

Zaya blinked. Sort of. Something wrong?

“Lean into the mirror and take a closer look for me,” he said, instead of admitting it. Zaya pushed themselves forwards on the padded bench to get closer to the mirror, pulling one of their eyes wide with their fingers.

Oh.

The gold from before, they said, tilting their head around. Tiny specks of gold were sprinkled around the dark blue of their eye. It’s in my iris.

“Not just my eyes, then,” Thancred muttered, fingers white as he gripped his sleeves in the mirror. “It isn’t affecting your sight, by the sounds of it—else, we would have noticed earlier. Any pain?”

No, Zaya answered, earnest, before sheepishly saying, Is it bad that it looks cool?

Thancred choked on what Zaya thought sounded like a laugh. A little wobbly around the edges, but it sounded good with his voice. “Sort of, yes.”

Zaya leaned back casually, reaching back to tug on Thancred’s sleeve as a reassurance. Not as bad as the rest of it. It reminded them of those shards of lapis lazuli they found when they were just starting out as a miner, veined delicately with gold. The only problem was they weren’t a damn stone, and turning to gold was a thing used in some of Ul’dah’s stories to represent death.

You can do what you wanted to, with my hair, they said. You have been looking at it anxiously. I don’t mind.

Thancred nodded, leaving momentarily only to return with a chair. When his head came into the frame of the mirror, Zaya saw the tight set of his jaw, the sharp grimace that reached his eyes, remaining even as he started to gently untangle the worst of the knots in their hair. Worry, but Zaya didn’t know how to soothe it. They’d stumbled their way through when having that stupid heart-to-heart near Twine with both him and Ryne, but this was a whole new beast. This time the threat they were staring down wasn’t inside their heads.

Their heart felt like it had suffered from the same fate of gold and marble they were consigned to inside their chest, heavy with dread. Zaya was the threat.

Thancred.

“Yes?”

You’ll stop me, right? If I lose control?

 Thancred’s fingers stopped combing through their hair. 

“Gods, I hate that you have to ask that,” he murmured, looking down rather than meet their eyes in the mirror.

Sorry. I do trust you.

“No, no, it’s not that I think you can’t trust in me, although you have every right not to after the mess in Amh Araeng,” he said, quickly tying up their hair and resting one of his hands on their shoulder. “The only one here who should have ever needed to say that was me.”

Thancred shrunk in on himself. Nothing needed to be said about Lahabrea.

Zaya kept quiet, letting their eyes fall over their worn-down figure in the mirror. Their meditating was helping, at least—even when so much of their body had stopped belonging to them, Zaya didn’t feel the same urges as the patients at the Inn. Some of the more… feral ones apparently couldn’t have visitors, in the off chance that they tried to claw the living aether out of them. They could still stand Thancred without going insane, determined as he may have been in how he reciprocated every touch Zaya had asked for in the last hour.

But for how much longer? 

If you can’t kill me, they whispered, trying to be kind as they raised their hand to touch Thancred’s fingers, where he was unconsciously digging them into their shoulder, then you can get the fae to seal me away. Like Titania. One Lightwarden is better than five.

“You’re asking me to take your life or your freedom, Zaya,” he said, voice cold and sharp. He ducked his head down enough that his bangs blocked their view of his eyes, but they hardly needed to see them to tell how he much he despised this. “Is this what it was like, seeing Lahabrea with my face? When he told you that defeating him meant my death?”

Sorry. Understatement. Zaya couldn’t possibly convey how terrible they felt for making Thancred deal with their imminent death so soon after starting to grieve Minfilia, couldn’t express just how much it meant to them that he stayed until they woke up in stupid words—and here he was, still trying to give them the whole damn world. Any normal person would have left by now. And—sort of. It hurt less in the moment because Lahabrea immediately went to trying to kill me. No time to stew in it.

Silence. For a moment, Zaya thought that they’d finally said too much, that Thancred had finally broken beneath the burden of them asking to share the weight. When they raised their free hand to brush away his bangs, however, Thancred took a deep, shaky breath and straightened up. Looked them in the eyes, even if he had just been saying how they made him incomparably worried.

“I’ll do my best to stop you if you lose control, but I refuse to let you give up on yourself the way I did.” In the surface of the mirror, Thancred’s eyes were alight with determination. “Let me return the favor. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

That was the look that he had when Thancred told them whatever it takes the first time. The look he wore every time Zaya woke up in a sickbed besides him, no matter whether they had almost drowned, bled out, or been poisoned. The look that convinced everyone else that he was in love with them, even the people of the Crystarium who had known Zaya for all of a year, at best.

Maybe he wouldn’t say it outright. Maybe neither of them ever would, now that Zaya’s time was running short. It didn’t matter. Zaya never put much stock in words, even after making friends with so many people who did.

The way he said whatever it takes while helping them put themselves back together felt an awful lot like an I love you , anyways.

“‘kay,” Zaya whispered, voice dry and cracking as they turned towards him. He held onto them even when they fell forwards onto his shoulder with watery eyes. Always catching them, when they fell out of the sky. “Okay. Whatever it takes.”

[intheseautumnhands]

Also whatever you wanna do for Luther/Vanya. You can also take this as an invitation to just talk about the concept because Lunya❤️❤️

❤️❤️❤️ Gonna stick this under a cut cause you will get Rambling. XD

General discussion:

So it's, I guess, technically more pre-ship than ship fic, in that they would not get together by my imagined endpoint (at least of fic one) but it's very charged and a very not-platonic dynamic, so I'd rather call it ship fic than pretend it's not. XD It's also like... let's put it this way, the doc title for this is 'is it still kink fic if they don't know it's a kink?', so that's the dynamic here.

Basically, it starts from the premise: when they're young, Luther draws the conclusion that because Vanya's always helping Reginald and taking care of important things for him, they're actually meant to be team leaders together, him leading in the field, and her as strategy and training support.

As they get older, this means he starts quietly encouraging Vanya to give him and the others advice or suggestions as they're training, and when they start doing official missions, he misunderstands something as it being his job to debrief her and discuss what happened in order to get her input. Even as they get older and he starts to recognize that this isn't working the way he expected, and he might be wrong about her role, he continues to come to her after missions for this.

As time passes, it mutates until it's less of a debrief, and more Luther rambling to Vanya about missions, and then also rambling to her about just... his thoughts, his insecurities, what he sees as his failings. Vanya is confused by it, but also desperate for the kind of inclusion and attention, and what they end up falling into is a situation where Vanya ends up more or less being the one to absolve Luther of his guilt, with growing D/s undertones as they get closer to being 18.

.... It's kind of a weird fic but this premise has been in my head a while and I still really want to write it, so here we are. XD

FIRST:

Luther remembers the day he figures it out, clear and sharp for years, later. It's when they're still young, long before they start going out on missions, maybe even before they had their names.

LAST: [context: after the first mission post-Five leaving, which goes very badly]

"Me too," she says, her voice wobbling, and he squeezes her hands as tears start to leak free.

"That's okay," Luther echoes back at her, and keeps holding her hands as she cries silently across from him.

THE END: So the end I have in mind for this is less 'actual end' and more 'start of an AU where Luther goes to vent his feelings to Vanya at one point shortly after Ben's death, when he abruptly overhears something and realizes he's going to end up left alone here someday, and she convinces him to run away with her'. So it would end with them leaving, Luther terrified and sad but also relieved just to keep somebody, if not all of his family, and Vanya nervous and excited all at one, and then possibly pick up a part two exploring that whole AU.

If I wanted to keep it closer to canon, it would end with a flash-forward; there'd be a scene where Vanya was leaving, and she and Luther awkwardly didn't talk about why they did this or what this even was, and then flash forward to them either running into each other briefly as adults, or them having a private conversation after Reginald's death.

[windupnamazu]

15, 22, 42!!

[DOMESTICITY QUESTIONS - accepting!] [answered]

15. what habits of the other drives them crazy?

their personalities are very similar so most problems theyd have would be very hypocritical nsfdnsdf if theres one thing they’d actually get mad about, its that theyre both self-sacrificing IDIOTS, and not always in the “id literally die for you if you asked me to” way, but like a “i take off my cape and lay it in the mud so you can step over it but i didnt bring a spare cape for myself and its winter” and a “i have a paralyzing fear of frogs, but if you came down with insomnia and the only cure was three mountains away in a cave full of them id get it for you” kind of way.

also raha never knows when to shut up once the hoods off. he was doing so well for himself as the mysterious guardian of the crystarium but he got unmasked and then couldnt stop himself from offering to die every two minutes after. his passionate rambling is something lunyas very fond of but not when its about that. shes thinking about carrying cookies to shove into his mouth the next time he starts.

lunya, for her part, is very aggressive and holds grudges over very petty things, though raha doesnt hate it (its adorable, actually, that shes like a pocket-sized attack dog) so much as he gets worried for her wellbeing over it.

22. who answers the phone?

they have their own linkpearls! but in a modern au where they have a house phone itd probably be lunya. she’d pick up calls from scammers and harrass them into being the one to hang up and she’d also hog the phone for like two hours talking to friends

42. what are little gestures they do for each other?

[also answered here!]

lunya always brings back something for raha when she leaves the crystarium, even when he doesnt ask her to!! she’ll bring back everything from tacky souvenirs she thinks are cute or funny or food or even just notes on different things she saw while she was out! it goes a long way to making sure raha doesnt feel completely cut out from the adventuring part of her life because he cant physically be out there with her ;w;

when theyre walking up or down stairs, raha always walks one step below lunya so their height difference gets a little smaller :’3c my boyfriend does this for me......we just wanna be tall.........

[love-cats-and-girls]

I don’t want to sound like a ridiculous person but has anyone gotten really into fancy loungewear since the pandemic?

I realized I might have a problem when I ordered this satin jacket the other day, and my husband walked by and said, “what the hell is that? Where are you planning to wear that?”

“At home,” I said, “It’s my new smoking jacket.”

-Cue awkward silence-

Anyways, as I was going through my year of pandemic purchases, I realized I really really really like loungewear and have started a small collection of pjs, slippers, joggers and dusters

It’s becoming a real obsession. For the first time, I’ve felt really comfortable and yet dressy and gorgeous at home and it’s like opening up a whole new world of clothing for me.

I just wanted to ask if anyone else has started to do this (or has always done this) and wanted to talk about it - what brands you like, what styles, where can I learn more, what items are comfortable, good quality etc.! I can only view items from For Restless Sleepers and Olivia Von Halle from afar… but really into all sorts of recommendations beyond the usual Lunya.

submitted by /u/WeddingElly [link] [comments] from Female Fashion Advice https://ift.tt/3jxyCsa

[azure-et-aurum-blog]

Apotheosis

((Continues from The Edge of the Soul )) ((Soundtrack: That one from the meteor movie XD)) ((W/ @celestial-opposition , and I’m ultimately happy with this. Under the cut the story continues like always. But I wish you all could read this if you may hehe))

I’ve been looking for you everywhere in Eorzea. Since the day we stopped talking, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I remembered our dance. I remembered the day at the beach, when we talked about family. We trained, we fought against each other. And I made a mistake. I believed in someone that I thought I could trust, and I was betrayed again. I love you so much and I can’t even explain myself. You are my bright star. You are the one that made my heart beat again. And I knew that you could feel the same way that I do, but I was too afraid of losing you. And I lost you. Or I thought it was forever lost. Until that letter. I had to find you. To prevent you to kill yourself in a suicidal mission. If you died here, everything would be in vain again. And it would be my fault. I... love you because you are my goddess now. I would grant you the apotheosis, I would grant you divinity, but... I just want to be at your side.

I wished I had the guts to say this. But I’m still a boy. A coward boy. But... I could... summarize in few words. I did.

“What?”

“Misaki... I... I love you... please... don’t do this” I said still breathless from the run. I think that I never ran so fast in my life.

“What are... you doing here?” Her eyes. They are... red. They are filled with anger, hate. It’s her dark side. Her soul crystal is pending to the Dark Knight inside her. She will not listen to me in this state.

“Misaki... listen to me. Breath. Control yourself...”

“I... don’t care. What are you doing here..? You lied to me. You said you didn’t want my help anymore. What are you doing here, then?”

“It was Musume, right? The one that told you that. She told me that you had given up of me, of helping me. I thought you were the one that abandoned me, until... until I talked to Nanatsusaya. He told me what you planned to do.”

“M-Musume...?” Her dark energy is growing. Her hate must be overwhelming her. This causes a small tremor, enough to alert Imperial guards nearby. They are already coming. Misaki is smiling now, she wants to fight. I put myself in front of her and she draws her greatsword. “Get out of my sight, Shintaro. Before I obliterate you like I’ll do to those imperials.”

“And the sekiseigumi too? And all the innocent people here? No. I can’t let you do that.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should. This is not what your old master would want. This is not the way of a Dark Knight... not your father’s way.”

“SHUT UP! YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MY FATHER! You weren’t there... when I saw them... slaughtered because of me! BECAUSE OF WHAT I DID!”

The yelling delivered our position and I had no choice but to use my size to grab Misaki and run away. She’s screaming to me, demanding her to put on the ground. And I’m running the fast as I can again. “This hurts me more than you can imagine. But I need to do this... to save you.”

“I don’t need to be saved, Shintaro. I’m not one of your damsels in distress that you are used to find on roads. LET ME GO!”

A small blast of energy separates both of us and she draws her greatsword again. I draw my Katana. “Is this the way it will be...?”

“Yes.” She answers souless.

And I turn my back to her. Facing the imperials behind us. They stop, pointing their gunblades to us. A mistake. In a matter of milliseconds, I cut the barrels and when they try to shoot, their guns explode on their hands making them fly back.

“What... did you do?”

“I got some time to us.”

I grabbed her again despite her complaints and rushed to an alley, to avoid the imperials. It was even more dark now that the moon was hidden behind the clouds, creating the best situation to cooldown a bit.

“LET ME GO, Shintaro! I need to avenge my family. I thought you might understand that! You lost them too. You lost your father, and.. and.. YOUR MOTHER!”

“Stop, Misaki. My mother is still alive and I know it. I can feel it. And that’s not the case here. You’ll accomplish nothing throwing yourself inside that consulate. It would all be in vain.”

“No. It would be... my final chord. My requiem. And I’d be in peace...” She pushes me and I grab her again. “Release my arm. I don’t.. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I pulled her close to me, feeling the smell of her hair. I grabbed her firmly, I was even afraid that I was hurting her. Despite her dark aura, she seemed fragile, her body was losing strength, I could feel that. Without her knowing, I started to transfer my light aether to her and I felt the confusion and grit inside her. I felt her pain and my own aether fighting the dark one. But she was looking at me, somehow it was still there, the balance I taught her to achieve.

“You didn’t hear me before.”

“... are you talking...?”

“You... didn’t hear what I said.”

“And what you... said?” She whispered... as her face was getting closer to mine and I could not see her lips anymore. Only her eyes. I could see them purple... the blue and red limbal rings were in confusion... or it would be ...in bliss?

“I said... that I love you.”

Our lips touched each other as our aethers collided in a supermassive explosion, or so I felt, but... it was inside us both. As I closed my eyes, I could feel her pain, her love, her angst, I touched her memories. I saw a child leading a clan to war. I saw her locked memories. A name, “Lunya Skadi”. Her name. I saw the Malaguld tribe and Nanatsusaya taking care of her. I saw her leaving and going to Eorzea. The children’s smile, her old gathering. I saw... myself.

“Shin...”

“Misaki...”

“Thank you...” She said... passing out in my arms. In the distance, I could hear the steps of people. Someone was coming. The explosion in fact happened? It was not a illusion? No... it wasn’t imperials.

It was Khutula. She found me. Thank you, Navigator.

[mypkshop-blog]

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[whitherliliesbloom]

what a queen must be ♔

Like leaves on the boughs, are her subjects to the queen. And like roots to a tree, a queen must be... Words: 6,521 words. This is a long read, grab a drink ;w;

[[ So quick note before starting.. This is obviously a fairy au fanfic, and it has quite a few cameos of other people’s characters who are involved in the fairy kingdom au ;w; I couldn’t quite find a way to fit everyone in though, so please don’t be upset if your oc isn’t included. It’s kind of hard to find ways to squeeze everyone into this. It also contains a lot of lore both from my own fanfics, as well as bits and pieces from other people’s fairy headcanons to make one big story.. 

The fairy au masterlist is here!  It’s highly recommended that you at least read my fanfic about illya’s backstory here first to get the context of this whole fanfic. Other highly recommended reads is @windupnamazu​‘s headcanons for Lunya for section 2, @ofthesilverlining​‘s heaadcanons for Laurelis, @firstblesssed​‘s fanfic for section 3 and sort of @earthlystar​‘s headcanons for Yume regarding the impending war between humans and fae referenced in section 4. Though in general I tried to keep the story and lore here consistent with everyone’s headcanons.. no guarantees, because there may be some contradictions ;w; ]] 

➤ A queen must always be smiling

“’Tis a rare sight to see the palace so crowded.” 

A guard in a fiery red robe paces about the room, eyes scanning the many other dress and suit clad fairies as they made merry conversation with one another. Ambrosia was served - a delicacy even by royalty standards.. and a rare sight especially after the catastrophic age of mortals. And yet she dared not partake in the drink herself - such was Yume’s tendency to take her job overly seriously. 

A hand placed upon her shoulder causes her to flinch for but a moment, but she relaxes upon seeing the smiling face of a forest nymph, her usual brown leather suit traded for a much more fitting leafy green dress. 

“You needn’t pace about so much, Yume! Here, eat!”

A neon pink mini cake covered in sprinkle was thrust forward towards the fire fairy’s lips, who could do naught but sigh and take a bite out of the sweet treat, much to Laurelis’ delight. 

She turns to her side, where the snow fairies were huddled close by, a certain scale covered one in particular with her arms folded over her chest in uncertainty.

“You too, Shuri, Mint! Eat something before you return to the mountains!”

The shorter of the pair was far more eager to accept the cake Laurelis had offered her, her companion merely furrowing her brows and shaking her head.

“I come only at the behest of my new queen.”

“And the queen wouldn’t like for one to mope about during a party now, would she?” With arms crossed, the forest nymph pouts, and the snow mother casts a frown downwards on the floor. 

“I suppose not.”

Delighted to have gotten her way, Laurelis hands the fairy of ice yet another palm sized pastry. 

She wasn’t lying when she said that the queen wouldn’t want for her subjects to be moping or upset during such a celebratory event - a celebration of her coronation, no less. 

Many a fae invited to the palace were more than delighted at the news of the previous Titania’s dismissal - a foolish king who allowed for the desecration of their once thriving kingdom. And while there was no one else but the king’s very own daughter to take up the throne in his stead, the fae were always of the belief that everyone was more than their ancestor’s blood. 

They lived in the here and the now - and in the present they were ready to welcome the newly crowned Titania who shall deliver them from the mistakes of the previous. 

It was nothing if not a joyous occasion. 

And yet the smile Laurelis’ wore upon her face was in itself a huge hypocrisy. 

“Look, there’s Illya!” Mint announces, shortly before the advisor of Titania even does, and all who were present in the room knew to bow upon one knee, looking towards the large pair of doors that opened for the queen’s grand entrance. 

The room is silent, save for the telltale fluttering of large translucent purple wings. Small in stature though she was, the glowing staff that she held in her hand, the crown upon her head and the very glittering, flowing dress she wore was more than enough for all fae folk to set her apart as royalty. 

While most looked in awe upon the queen’s visage as she hovered over the room, Laurelis could not help but feel the corners of her lips threaten to tug downwards into a frown. 

“Welcome, one and all!” Her soft voice calls out, shaking in tone. The bright smile upon her face glows, and she continues to speak against the restraints of her timid vocal cords, natural to all but those who knew the girl beneath the crown well enough. “I bid you welcome, and thank you kindly for your attendance to this banquet. I hope you enjoy the food and beverages we have served here tonight!” 

With a wave of a hand, the queen gestures for all to rise to their feet, smile never once wavering. 

Chatter returns to the room once more, accompanied by Mint’s enthusiastic claps.

“I would have thought she’d be more nervous about speaking in public, but she’s holding herself well!” 

There weren’t too many fae in the kingdom who knew Titania by name, let alone the person who was but a mere princess before her coronation. All who did nodded in agreement, save for the forest nymph whose gaze had not once left the queen.

She held herself too well, Laurelis thought. Mismatched eyes narrowing through the crowd of fluttering wings to gaze at her friend, who has settled on her own lonesome in the corner of the room, neither cake nor ambrosia in hand. 

Laurelis excuses herself, pushing past the giggling and twirling bodies of fairies in the midst of an ambrosia intoxicated dance towards her dearest friend. 

Her hand settles upon the queen’s shoulder, and violet eyes shift upwards to look at Laurelis. Anybody else who would dare approach Titania would have long been stopped by Urianger, who stood guard over the girl a mere few fulms away. And yet their friendship has reached back far enough that the man knew the forest nymph meant the queen no harm. 

Perhaps, Urianger even believed.. that she would be able to help the queen in ways which he cannot. 

“Illya-” Laurelis blurts out, but she catches herself and flashes a sheepish smile down at her smaller friend, “Ah.. I guess I’m supposed to call you ‘your majesty’ now..” 

“Oh...” a soft murmur and a nervous chuckle later, and the queen responds with a widened smile. “Right.. but you needn’t call me so in private..”

“Illya it is then.”

You will always be Illya to me.

Laurelis wished to say. She wished to speak - as she always does in their friendship. She was always the more talkative of the pair after all.. the chatter box who talked so much she’s surprised her friend’s pointed ears hadn’t fallen off.

And yet Illya would listen - she always does. For a princess who sneaked out of the safety of the palace, she was attentive of others - of even the forest that bordered up the kingdom and its tall grand walls. 

Laurelis swears that she’d listen too - if Illya would give her a chance to. It’s the least she could do.. and may perhaps even be the only thing she can do. 

Something inside Laurelis’ heart aches as she watches Illya’s unwavering facade of happiness shine brighter before her, and as if in desperation the forest nymph drops her very own trademark glowing grin to lower her voice.

“Are you okay..?”

A crack forms in Illya’s defenses - a glistening in her eyes that she rapidly blinks away. Her chapped lips tremble, complexion paling and the knuckle that held her staff turns white. It is all Laurelis needed to know the answer.

What hypocrisy is it for her to convince the others to make merry and joy, to smile in ignorance and celebrate to their heart’s content, when she herself would attempt to tear down the walls of her friend’s barricaded feelings? 

The queen is several decades too young for this burden, a fairy who had just barely blossomed past her peak physical maturity. The fae cares not for age, and certainly not for the concept of time. 

But surely there was something so oddly cruel about this - so tragic that a fae so young would be forced to see the disappearance of her parents, and to bear the weight of their sins upon her own two shoulders. 

Illya was no fool, and is far from power hungry. She, of all people, must know her own plight better than anybody else.. and it must be tearing her up inside. 

Please frown. Please cry. Please tell me again about how much you love your parents. Anything, anything but pretend.

And yet Illya never stops smiling, a far more pitiful, lonely cry for help that almost sends Laurelis herself bursting into tears on the spot.

“I’ve never been better.”

Laurelis forces a wide smile past the burning of her eyes as she gazes down at her most cherished friend. The hand upon her shoulder rubs gently in a comforting manner, and her other hand has to clench into a fist to keep herself from doing what she wishes. 

 “Just remember that you can talk to me about whatever you like.” Despite the smile on her visage, her voice is hushed and choked, her own throat threatening to close on her. She has never been as good at masking her feelings as Illya. “After this is over, we should go to your room. I — I...” 

Her voice now is a little stronger as the grin grows less forced. “I found a new hairstyle I think you’ll look beautiful in.”

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

➤ A queen must be forgiving

“By order of Titania, you are all to leave at once!”

The clouds gather in the night sky, and the voice of the royal guards come to chase the remaining mortals away echo throughout Lydha Lran. 

It had been decreed even before the coronation of the new Titania that the ban upon mortal entrance be enacted once more - an order that came from none other than the mother of the current Titania. 

A law in which mortals are not allowed entry to the rainbow kingdom, and yet the crime of trespassing shall not be met with the punishment of death - but a mere trial in the presence of Titania and her royal guards. 

Mortals present - ill intent or not are to be sent away without exception.. and while the Titania of the present had been lenient in giving those remaining enough time to pack and leave, now came an age for some rapid and drastic changes - as adviced by Urianger himself. Unfortunate, the few who had not left yet are in fact among the most vile of those who had set foot upon their home in the first place.

Plunderers, come to leech off the prosperity of the fae for their own greed. 

The pixies still remembered how vast and wide their forests had been, how tall their glaciers and mountains spanned, and even the vividness of the very flowers that bloomed upon their land.. All tarnished within less than a decade of mortal interference. 

But that wasn’t enough for them. It wasn’t enough to pluck them of their resources. They would burn their very home to the ground if they must, a final act of defiance against the law of the haughty ruler who hid in the safety of her shiny castle. 

“Screw these stupid new laws! And screw the dumb ass new queen of yours! We have a right to stay!” 

The queen had anticipated the plunderers to not want to leave quietly, and so it was perhaps a wise choice to order a small platoon of guards to usher the mortals out of Lydha Lran, the village closest to the gates where mortal world met with the kingdom of fairies. 

With axes once brandished to cut down their enchanted trees, and lances to spear the backs of their porxies they were now turned against the innocent citizens of the village and the royal guards who fought to stop them.

The sea of blooming pink flowers were trampled on, as if they hadn’t been enough already, with the blood of both mortal and fae alike spilling upon the stone pathway that led through the quaint little village. 

Amongst the clashing of steel, the pitter patter of frantic feet carried a girl through the chaos to the center of the village. Her pants grow louder, pleas to stop going unheard. 

At the very front Lyhe Mheg, a burly woman stood, weathered sword raised against a pixie folk who had none save their tiny trembling arms to defend themselves. 

“Stop!” crying out, the dwarf puts herself in between the mortal and pixie, furrowed glare however pointed towards one of her own kind - the very one who had ferried her here in the first place.

“Step outta the way, Lunya.. or I won’t hesitate to cut you down too.”

In the midst of her pounding heart, and every voice in her head yelling, begging for her to obey, her legs stood firm with arms outstretched to either sides of her, a physical shield for the innocent fae behind her.

“This is lunacy! Have you not taken enough from them?!” 

You too, Lunya. You’ve taken from them too. You’ve taken from her.

“Last warning. I’m telling you to get out of the way or die with them.”

The gathered clouds grow darker and block all view of the stars and the moon from view, as if a storm of rain was about to fall upon them. The sky is weeping this needless bloodshed.

Lunya glares, hands tightened into a fist. 

“Over my dead body.”

...

“The queen! She comes!” 

Voices sound muffled, and what little light she can see past half-lidded teary eyes feel like they are a far distance away. Her body feels heavy and light all at the same time, as if she was drifting underwater further and further from view of the surface. It feels cold and so very dark.

She does not register the blood that stained her shirt a bright scarlet red, or the dark grey of the clouds that hung above her head. She does however note a flash of violet and the voice of someone familiar. 

It’s a voice she associates with quiet conversations by the lake under the starry night sky after sneaking away from her bunk, of the one glimmer of happiness in the midst of a sea of guilt and regret. She, who was but a petty thief from the outside, who would spend the night alongside a girl so alike yet so different from herself, counting the stars and drawing constellations with the tip of their fingers.

The princess wondered about all sorts of things - from the stars above them to the flowers that took bloom beneath their feet.. and the world of the mortals that stretches beyond the gates of Il Mheg.

And she would tell her, about the world she was born from.. about the world fae cannot experience. While the princess gave her the company she so desperately needed to keep waking up to tomorrow, company she knew she didn’t deserve. 

Lunya is numb from head to toe, consciousness drifting away in the wind. 

But a bright light glows from her torso, a warmth spreading from where the blade of that woman’s sword had cut her body open. She feels something beginning to protrude from her back, and the roots of her hair bleaching a pale white to match the queen’s. 

Lunya doesn’t quite understand right away what had just transpired - but she knows that she owes her friend a debt yet again, this time one that was the very weight of her life. 

By Illya’s healing touch, she was given the unfortunate gift of remembering her sins, and the tears that had pooled in her eyes begin trickling down her face.

“I’m......sorry.”

But her friend merely shakes her head, hand cradling the back of Lunya’s head gently, petting her hair as it changes their hues - as if in forgiveness for what she had done.

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

➤ A queen must be hardworking

Juggling his responsibility of helping with the fae’s errands as well as investigating the cause of the dreaded curse that afflicted his kind certainly wasn’t easy, but the boy did begrudgingly admit that the work was..fulfilling. 

Restoring the damage his people had caused to the land of the fae gave him a sense of accomplishment that not even his speedy graduation from the studium had given him - nor the many years he spent pouring over tome after tome in the lonesome of his study. 

Interacting with fae folk was refreshing, as was their culture and their very beliefs. 

He thus has no complaints when he is summoned yet again by the pixies of Lydha Lran, though he’d be lying if he said he were not nervous of what possible pranks they could pull on him yet again.

“Not a moment too late like last time!” a pixie twirls in the air in delight, tiny wings fluttering behind them as Alphinaud greets them with a sincere smile.

“I wouldn’t dare, Beq Thon. Your call made it seem like you urgently needed help.”

“Yes, well..” turning to gaze out onto the field that sat right outside the village, the pixie’s shoulders slump. “I need all the help I can get.”

With a curious tilt of his head, Alphinaud’s eyes turn upwards to look at the field, an almost unending landscape of flowers both withered and newly bloomed, crystals of light embedded along the path that led towards Pla Enni, their glow and hues a tad more dull than they had once been before the era of mortals - as he had been told multiple times.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The weeds! Oh the dreaded weeds! They seem to keep coming back no matter what I do!” 

The very idea of weeds causes Alphinaud’s heart to sink to the pit of his stomach. Weeds? In Il Mheg? From the sheer size of the kingdom, one would expect such a pest to be nonexistent.. He shudders thus to think of the amount of time one would take to have to rid the ground of them before their flower beds would be infested.

“Forgive me for asking but.. has this always been a problem? If it is, there certainly must be a better way to take care of them rather than pulling them by hand.”

“Always so bright you are, Alphinaud! But so very dim too!” Beq Thon plants their hands upon their hips with a frown, and Alphinaud merely shrugs. 

“Long, long ago, we had dew mosses aplenty. Sure, they weren’t the prettiest flowers around.. a bit stinky, even! But they helped to keep the weeds at bay, and even had some medicinal effects when used in potions!” 

A frown graces upon Alphinaud’s expression. He needn’t hear the rest of Beq Thon’s explanation to know what had happened to those fabled helpful flowers. It was always the same tale,  the same story... recollections of how mortals came upon their land. They plundered, they stole.. all at the expanse of the fae who had prospered in their isolation for so long. 

If there was anything of significance worth even a fraction of a gil, they’d take it for themselves. Such was the nature of some of the more cruel of heart among his kind. 

“Is there no way to grow more of these dew mosses?”

“Oh, we’re not dim like you are, silly! Of course we’ve started growing more of them, courtesy of those Fuath, unfortunately. But it will be another year or two before enough of them blooms to cover the land. So! For now, what say we... and by that, I mean you, get your hands working and pull at those weeds!” 

There wasn’t much Alphinaud could do to protest, not against the earnest urges of Beq Thon and the symbol of loyalty to the queen he wore upon his finger. 

The pixie wasn’t kidding when they said that the entire plot of land had to be weeded.. and while they had been kind enough to offer their own hands to pull one or two stray weeds out, Alphinaud could swear his hands were growing callous from all the pulling he’s doing. 

He worked his way through the field, from the terrains of Timh Gyeus up until the edge of longmirror lake, where he caught a glimpse of a water nymph who poked her head out of the water for but a brief moment before diving back beneath the surface - no doubt curious, but perhaps also uncertain of the motives of his stay. 

And who could blame her - or any fae who has doubts about him? The bright blue wings that fluttered behind his back, still clumsy in their movements.. are but a temporary gift given by Titania to allow him to serve under her. 

He isn’t truly fae.. and perhaps will never fully be welcomed as one either. 

“Alphinaud?”

In his listless and wandering thoughts, blank stare broken at the calling of his name, Alphinaud snaps his head up to look at the fairy who hovered just ilms from the ground in front of him. He can see Urianger standing a little away behind her, eyes locked upon the piece of parchment he held in his hand, but otherwise darting up momentarily to check on the queen. 

“Your majesty!” Alphinaud is quick to straighten himself up, the weeds he’d tugged from the soil dropped to his feet, much to the dismay of Beq Thon who flutters to pick them up.

“S-sorry! I-I didn’t startle you, did I?” As ever, the queen stutters, expression twisting into one of horror as she glances down at the fallen weeds.

“Not at all, your majesty! Forgive me for not noting your approach sooner.”

It takes a moment for Titania to settle down, violet eyes darting back and forth from the pixie to the boy before her hand moves to the front of her heart. 

“Full glad I am to hear that.. And I see that you’re helping Beq Thon again.” 

“As he is, your majesty! Our Alphinaud here has been hard at work, pulling and pulling away at those nasty weeds!”

“O-Oh dear.. Are they back again? Don’t tell me you’ve been pulling weeds out all morning-” 

There was no reason to lie.. no reason at all why he’d have to be dishonest. After all, he’d not too long among planned to retell the ordeal of his backbreaking labor to his sister earlier.. And yet at the sight of her look of guilt, Alphinaud could not help but to wave away her concerns and flash a smile.

“Pray don’t worry yourself over me, your majesty. It isn’t difficult at all. In fact, I should perhaps ask yourself if you had any need of my assistance.”

The fairy’s eyes widen, and she shakes her head frantically.

“Me? Oh, oh no.. I’m just here for inspections.. And to see if anybody needed my help.”

“Help, you say?!” 

If Alphinaud was unwilling to accept the queen’s oh so benevolent offer of help, Beq Thon certainly had no qualms too. With an excited waving of their arms and a twirling of their body, they flew in front of Alphinaud’s rapidly scowling face.

“Y-yes.. I’ll help in whatever way I can. It’s only natural.”

“Well then.. Your majesty.. If I may-”

“Your majesty! Alphi!” 

A voice interrupts, and Beq Thon curses under their breath, sending sharp piercing glares upon the approaching fairy who seemed utterly oblivious to their scorn. 

A woman much taller in stature than they, clad in a purple robe smiled warmly at the pair.. and had she not had her hands full carrying bottles of a certain green potion in her hands, she’d certainly have waved in greeting to them.

“Fancy seeing you two here together! I was just looking for you both!”

“Both of us? Whatever for?” Alphinaud tilts his head.

“Well, different reasons, actually. So first!” Hovering closer, the head of the infirmary pushes the bottles into the boy’s hands, his navy blue eyes staring down at them in confusion until the fairy deigns to explain with a grin. “Potions for energy. You, my dear boy.. work yourself far too much to the bone.”

A panicked glance over to the queen, and Alphinaud gulps as he watches Illya’s eyes widen in shock. 

“You really shouldn’t be doing so much physical labor too when you just recovered from that bruised arm of yours! I shall have to ban you from the infirmary if you come back in asking for-”

“Yes- Thank you, Elletha!” 

His arms raised, a feeble attempt to silence her. But the damage has already been done. He can see the queen’s head bow, long white bangs just barely obscuring the saddened glimmer in her glistening violet eyes.

“I... I didn’t know you were getting injured so much while helping us..”

“I- No- That was when you were teaching me to fly, your majesty.” 

“I-I.. I made you injured?!” Titania gasps, eliciting a panicked shake of his head and a chuckle from Elletha. 

“I jest, your majesty. Alphi is hale and healthy, as much as a mortal with fae blood can be.” 

Elletha was anything but cruel - a woman far too eager to tease him..and to his dismay intuitive enough to catch his growing interest in the queen.. but not cruel.

“I-If you say so..” Titania’s unwillingness to drop the subject shows in her pause, but the girl is quick to shake her head to look back up at the other fairy. “You had business with me too, Elletha?”

The fairy in question grew quiet, her once jovial, almost motherly smile down turned into a seriousness Alphinaud hadn’t quite seen from her before - not even after his multiple trips to the infirmary.

“Ah.. yes. It regards our shortage of calendulas.”

“...Already..?” As if the frown upon Illya’s face hadn’t been deepened enough, Alphinaud could swear his heart was about to shatter from the utterly look of helplessness upon her face.

“I’m afraid we’ll require your magicks again, your majesty.. And even then, I hope you don’t burden yourself with the idea that it’d last us very long.” 

His lack of knowledge about calendulas doesn’t keep him from feeling the gravity of the situation, nor does the lack of protests from Beq Thon as Titania finally nods, and with a forced smile turns to look at the pixie.

“I’m sorry.. I’m afraid my assistance is needed elsewhere.”

“Oh, no no, your majesty! No apologies needed! Do what you have to! Alphinaud and I will be fine!” 

Beq Thon bows, and Alphinaud is quick to mirror the gesture. It was all that he could do as he watched the queen fly away with Elletha, with but a mere apologetic glance back towards him.

Silence was quite uncharacteristic of Beq Thon, and it wasn’t long until they’d let out a yelp and pull on Alphinaud’s ear.

“Chop, chop! We don’t have all day, and the weed won’t pull themselves, you know!” 

He’s left with no complaints now, not even as he bend down on one knee once more, and his hands grasp tightly onto a weed wrapped around a flower. The aching of his body is nothing compared to the aching of his heart, mind fixated upon the image of the queen just as hard at work as he is.

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

➤ A queen must be selfless

“Forgive mine rude interruption, your majesty.. but this is of great import.”

“I don’t doubt you have reason to call me so suddenly, Urianger.. But why is Alphinaud needed too?” The fairy glances to her side, boy with glowing blue wings hovering beside her looking as equally perplexed.

The throne room is dark, save for the several few lanterns that hung upon the stone white pillars surrounding the interior. The royal guards that would once normally take station around the castle now absent, rallied near the entrance of  Timh Gyeus in response to the growing presence of mortal troops around the forest. 

Word has spread about the curse - and of the nature of said very curse. Enough studies and investigations both on the part of the few mortals who have entered Il Mheg, and of the scholars outside their walls have proven that the dreadful ailment was indeed of fae origin. 

The humans have not invaded - not yet.. but their growing protests and demands by the gates have worried Titania and her advisor alike enough to deem added security near their borders a necessity. 

Illya’s mine briefly slips away to wonder about her friends - particularly the forest nymph whom she has ordered to retreat into the kingdom.. but such distracted thoughts was unbecoming of a queen.

“I thought it best to inform him, as the spokesperson of the mortals.” 

Urianger’s tone is serious, and though one could argue that the man was always so uptight, there was no denying the urgency in his step, and the raising of his voice as he pulls a trinket out of his bag and holds it out for the pair to behold. 

A hand-sized mirror, bordered with what was once unmistakably shining gold, now tainted and rusted beyond reparation. 

“This was found, your majesty.. upon one of the mortal intruders who had been caught by Angelique. The pixies found this upon his persons as they were scavenging his unconscious form and thought it best to deliver it to me personally after seeing the carvings upon its back.”

Urianger turns the mirror to reveal the carvings - letters of the fae spelling out in their tongue the nature of its power. 

“The mirror of lost visions- It disappeared so many years ago during my father’s reign.. That a mortal would have it means that-”

“Indeed.. T’was this mortal, or at least a mortal who has had contact with the one we caught that stole this from us..”

By the blessing of fae blood that Titania had so graciously granted onto him, Alphinaud had been given the benefit of a myriad of things. Of the wings upon his back, protection against the mischief of pixies and Fuath alike, and more than anything else, the ability to read and understand ancient fae writing. It would do his investigation no good after all, if he could not at least read their tomes. 

And yet the description provided by the supposedly enchanted mirror was in itself vague at best.

“By one who seeketh their deepest desires, thou shalt behold the answers?”

“It’s a mirror that allows one to see whatever it is they ask of it. Be it the past or the present.. but not the future.” Titania explains, hands reaching out to take the mirror from Urianger’s grasp gently. Her fingers trail upon the lining of the rusted gold, lips frowning as she notes just how worn out and poorly maintained the metal rim itself is. The mortals certainly did nothing to care for its appearance.. she’d hate to know just how they have abused its powers. 

“An ancient mirror of Voeburtite descent, gifted to Titania of millenias ago. A treasure the fae hath kept locked away, ordered by Titanias of all generations to never be used unless in dire circumstances.. for its magicks are limited with the passing of the last Voeburtite emperor. Although.. T’would seem the mortals hath not the fraction of fae’s restraint in their use of it.”

With a raising of his hand to hold his temple, Urianger scowls. 

“By mine own estimation.. It would seem that the mirror has but only enough energy for one more vision to be projected.”

Silence fills the room, and the bubbling anger from the crimes of his own kind wells up within him again, only restrained by the unreadable expression upon Titania’s face as she stares down at the mirror, taking in Urianger’s words.

“Then... It’s not worth keeping as a treasure anymore..?” 

“I’m afraid so, your majesty.. And thus I call for your judgement. Whatever it is that you decide shall be done with it, I shall stand by your decision, my lady.”

Perhaps it was the glance Urianger gave him, perhaps it was the pitifully sad glimmer in her eyes.. but Alphinaud’s memories are jogged, and he suddenly remembers.. 

Titania was not anything if not a kind, hardworking ruler.. who did all she could to shoulder the burdens of the kingdom that would be left in the wake of the previous King’s dismissal. 

But beneath the bright sparkle of her wide fluttering wings, to the almost magical way her face glows as she smiles upon her subjects was a sorrow that few knew about, and fewer still who cared enough to stay by her side through it all. 

Alphinaud had given it much thought - about what the queen could possibly want. Aside from her responsibilities as the queen, aside from the benevolence she showed her people, there must almost certainly hidden wishes and desires.

And yet no matter how many nights he’d spend tossing and turning in bed, his conclusion only fell to one possibility.. a wish so impossible that he hated to admit he could not grant her. Until now.

“Your majesty.. if I may..” Alphinaud’s hand raises to place in front of his chest, a gentle smile gracing his expression. “You could use the mirror to see where you parents are.”

Violet eyes widen in shock, and the queen glances towards Urianger, who does nothing but bow silently as apology. 

“I... My.. parents...?”

“As I was informed.. the previous king and queen disappeared without a trace from Il Mheg.. and you were their only daughter left to inherit the throne.” despite his best efforts at a gentle, comforting smile, he could see the queen’s hands tremble, head sinking down to cover her eyes with the length of her bangs. “If you wished to see where they were now.. you could find them. You can see them again.”

Her deepest, darkest desires revealed, Titania could only bow her head in shame. She could not even bring her eyes to glance into the mirror, for fear of setting sights upon the selfish, naive girl who the kingdom had the misfortune of being crowned. 

But there was something within her that raced.. the beating of her foolish heart that jumped as she heard his words, the proof of his concern for her. 

That he would care this much for her.. to learn not just of the fae, but of herself, even if it would do nothing to aid in his pursuit of a cure. 

There was nothing left to hide between them, now that he knows the little girl behind Titania’s title.

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Alphinaud..”

But there was more to this kingdom than her own selfish desires - more to the world outside and the mortals. 

She remembers his words to her, as they sat side by side and read a tome about the history of Lyhe Ghiah’s architecture.. and the conversation drifted towards the fae curse that was rapidly spreading throughout his people. 

“I feel partly responsible.. That this horrible curse would indeed be of fae origin.. It would make me responsible, as queen of my people.. that one of my own would so horribly doom the lives of many.” she had said to him, her fingers trailing circles around the pages of the book she held, only for the boy to shake his head in response.

“I recall a saying, your majesty.. A saying of the fae.. that one is more than the blood of their ancestors.” Like a light in the dark, like a warmth to her ice cold sorrow, he’d stood by her side and given her words of strength. “Does that not then extend to the blood of our own kind?”

What did she do to deserve such kindness from a man whose people were afflicted by her own..? A kindness from a mortal, people that fae folk had banished from their homeland more than once - punished for the sins of the few minority of thieves.

She had not the power to decide the actions of the fae who aided in the affliction of mortals.. in the same way Alphinaud, and the many kind mortals she has met had no say in the selfishness of their own kin.

A queen is nothing if not benevolent. 

“I believe.. Wishing for the source of the curse.. would be a much better use of the mirror’s powers, would it not?”

Blue eyes widen up at her, his lips agape for a moment. 

“But.. your majesty..”

“You could wish to see who cursed your people.. you could finally find the source and work out the antidote you’ve been working so hard to find.. Perhaps.. perhaps that mortal who came to us with the mirror had taken this to us for that very purpose.”

“Even after... everything we’ve done to you?”

They’ve robbed their kingdom of everything, they’ve robbed the queen of her beloved parents. As polluted as the lands of Il Mheg, were the hearts of those who would misuse the very kindness showed to them by the fae. How could she sacrifice her one chance to meet her parents for a kind that has done nothing but stolen from her?

“We’re more than the blood of our own kind.”

Her voice trembles, yet echoes loudly in his ears, glistening violet eyes gazing into his own. Her hands extend out the mirror for him to take, and Alphinaud has naught the words nor the heart to refuse as she slowly takes it from her.

“Illya.. I...”

Illya’s eyes widen for a moment, before she finally smiles past her tears, a smile that is sincere and true. 

“Please, don’t thank me.. If anyone, it should be me who is thanking you. For.. coming into my life.” 

The drumming of his heart sends blood rushing up to his face, and he finally finds the strength in him to flash a bright smile. 

A knock on the door of the throne room, and before the guard was even invited in, they grant themselves entrance to rush towards the group.

“Your majesty! Please forgive my intrusion!! But the mortals have begun to invade the gates of Timh Gyeus!”

Their heads lift up to look upon the kneeling guard in armor in horror, and Urianger is quick to turn back to the queen.

“Your majesty, thy-”

“Don’t stop me from going out there, Urianger.” Illya’s stern warning causes the man to reel back, and despite much of his wish to protest, she offers a singular bow of obedience. 

Illya’s grip on her staff tightens, and Alphinaud notes the girl stretching her wings, which seemed to begin growing in size behind her back.

“Hurry, Alphinaud.. You have to save your people.” 

With one last gentle smile, Illya nods towards the mirror Alphinaud held in his hands, hovering closer to him to lean her forehead against his chest. Her head’s lowered by habit, hiding the burning of her glowing red cheeks beneath bangs that he has long learned to see through. Sensing her hesitation, his arms wrap around her form, pulling the girl close in a tight embrace for a single fleeting moment.

“Be careful, Illya.”

“I will.”

Titania is many things... to the many people of this kingdom and beyond. But as Alphinaud clutches the mirror close to his chest, and rushes out the throne room after making his wish, he comes to the startling realization that the queen, more than anything, was the woman who has stolen his very heart. 

[fistsoflightning]

23: i wanna know what you’re doing tonight

prompt: shuffle || masterpost || other fills || ao3 mirror

word count: 2796

Does writing music based on things your friend said count as flirting?

It’s AU brainworm time everybody >:3 This “main street” AU is basically balefire/mom squad’s ‘what if we made a bunch of small town romance ideas and mashed them together’ which turns out to be a lot more hilarious than it should be. Featuring (chat) cameos from @windupcatgirl @to-the-voiceless @windupnamazu @verbroil and @winduphaurchefant because why not. Title from this song!

For all intents and purposes, Zaya enjoys autumn; summer heat cooling off into a pleasant chill, the sunlight that lingers enough to keep warm in the early weeks. The trees may die, but in doing so they grow colorful, and though the flowers in A’dewah’s little shop don’t do the same he changes which ones are on display to match better with the tree outside. It does mean Krile—and more recently, one G’raha Tia—have to return to Mor Dhona, their studies resuming, but it’s not like they can’t chat.

It does, however, mean the return of autumn showers—and they don’t even hate rain that much—and fortunately Zaya managed to forget their poncho just as the first big storm pulled in. Mor Dhona wasn’t that far of a drive away, really, just two or three hours on a road Zaya had taken enough times before, but in the middle of a rainstorm? Without a rainproof coat?

Well, at least Miss Eldfalk’s documents are staying dry in the carrier at Zaya’s back, even if the chill of the rain has already soaked through the wool of their jacket and started to dampen their shirt by the time they pull into the parking garage just a block or so away from the museum waiting on Sjanna’s delivery. Thankfully the inn is just an elevator away and not on the other side of the road; they should keep a spare poncho or umbrella in the motorcycle luggage next time.

Zaya pushes the thought aside as they slip off their helmet and the phone in their pocket begins to buzz about, safely tucked within the canvas pocket of their overalls and hopefully not just as soaked as their hands are. Wiping their palms and fingers on the inside of their legs, they unzip the soggy jacket and tug out the borrowed phone to see the numerous Linkcord notifications—of course.

Leaning onto the front of their motorcycle, Zaya hardly takes a second glance up to the storm just out the window behind them as a few taps and a swipe unlocks the screen, opening up to the Linkcord discussion of the day (night? Night.)

[ text channel #mom-panic; 9:47 PM ]

banned for baby crimes zayaaaaaa i miss you Hanami Hagane You are just saying that because you have no one to drag around the fair. Hanami Hagane Besides, they will be back tomorrow afternoon. banned for baby crimes no i’m not!! that’s too long!! i brought ihget but he’s being stupid and wont ride the ferris wheel with me :’) banned for baby crimes i cant find lunya and reese either so now im stuck with himbo here local breadhead we’re just by the cotton candy stand! lunya’s waving at you ;) banned for baby crimes OH THERE YOU ARE HOW DID I MISS YOU        hold on i gotta grab the chad first local breadhead 😊 banned for baby crimes but i really miss zaya even if they’re just over in mor dhona.. so does ochir he- i- banned for baby crimes has anyone seen ochir ihget lost him in the crowd- this says zaya 😱 reese is in pieces :O( YOU WHAT?? local breadhead oh dear lmao reese is in pieces :O( i hope no one tries to take him :( reese is in pieces :O( lunya says if your stupid catboy loses zaya’s bird shes not going to make you two the mini versions of zaya’s courier hat banned for baby crimes IT SNTO MY FAULT ZAYA JR HERE WAS BEIGNB ROODY ADN LOOKED AWAY         NOOOOOOO,,, Hanami Hagane Why bring the bird with you, anyways. Zaya lent you Ochir’s cage. banned for baby crimes he made sad noises when ihget n i were abt to leave,,,,

The chat quickly devolves from there into Sati panicking about Zaya’s violet-backed starling going rogue and everyone else jumping in and hells, they are not in the mood to manage that. Drops of water fall from their chin onto the screen; they hastily wipe it away before shoving the phone back into their pocket and hop off their motorcycle. A few quick movements with the key round their wrist opens up the luggage attachment with the satchel of papers inside—blessedly dry, thank the gods they splurged on a decent one instead—which they swing over their shoulder as they start walking to the elevator.

A dripping trail has probably followed them all the way from the parking garage to the lobby, they think in passing as they stop at the front desk, waiting for the receptionist to turn around. Their hand goes to fiddle with the small keychain on their keyring as they wait, still dripping their own personal puddle around them.

“Hello, hello! Welcome to the Seventh Heaven, how may I—” Tataru turns around, small smile widening into a sunny bright grin when she sees them, even if they’re dripping all over the lobby. “Zaya! Good to see you back again; need a room for the night, then?”

A curt nod (that sends water droplets onto the surface of Tataru’s desk) is all she needs to hop off her stepping stool and onto the ground, waving Zaya along before she cheerily marches down the halls with a keyring jingling in her hand. Not even the gloomy rainstorm thundering outside can put a damper on her mood, it seems.

“Payment for the night’s stay may be given in the form of Gannet Bay gossip, alright?” Tataru unlocks the door to a nicely decorated room with a quick turn of her hand, playfully winking over her shoulder as she does. Her violet eyes glimmer almost the same as Lunya’s, really; filled with teasing joy and secrets. “I’ve heard from the grapevine about a certain catboy quite enjoying the atmosphere out there, now!”

She steps aside as the door swings fully open, giving a little curtsy, and Zaya gives her an energetic thumbs-up as they walk past her into the room, pleasantly warm and bright from the small fireplace in the corner of the room, banked low so its amber glow only flickers across the floor.

First things first: getting out of all the soggy clothing they’re wearing.

They hang their satchel (papers still neatly bound inside, good) on the wall hook by the door and haphazardly strip off their shoes and socks, followed by the once-warm and fluffy jacket as they look about for spare hangers.

Ah; Tataru always has their back. Hanging on the end of the bed are a set of four or so hangers, which Zaya snaps up with ease, carefully slipping the wooden hangers through sleeves and loops as they finally get to their undershirt—blissfully dry, if not a bit cold. Their overalls aren’t all that damp on the top but are more than soaked the further down the legs one looks… hopefully that dries quick enough.

Just as they finish kicking their ankle-high boots to the mat by the door, a quiet yet unfamiliar chime fills the room, and Zaya nearly thinks to check outside the door for the noise when the light vibrations trickle up their arm. The soft ringtone—someone humming along to a muffled orchestra, maybe; not the smartest of choices for a calling ringtone—grows louder as Zaya stares down at their collection of soggy clothing.

...Alright, second: answer the damn phone?

Zaya nearly fumbles all the hangers to grab their phone from the pockets of their overalls and accept the call, only briefly reading the name from the screen before his face pops up in its place. White hair and a charming grin, perhaps—that is, to anyone who hadn’t heard the words that fall from his mouth like gentle rain.

(Okay, well, maybe that just helped. Zaya wasn’t going to say that out loud to anybody regardless; it didn’t matter what they thought of Thancred’s charms. Probably.)

“...I’d say ‘good evening’ but I wager you are having anything but just by the water dripping off your hair,” Thancred says in lieu of greeting, his voice warm and surrounded by the distant sounds of the usual fall fair attractions. “So instead, I’ll say this; is that old phone serving you well enough?”

Zaya nods; given, this one’s a bit clunky, but the lightness of their actual tomephone may have indirectly been the reason that they’d dropped it while helping out around town and eventually cracked the screen. At least Thancred had offered to lend them his old one for the trip to Mor Dhona in case, just on the off chance someone truly needed their attention, like for lost birds and ways to punish a distracted idiot.

They set it on the table, the front camera facing towards the window as Zaya steps into frame, still fiddling with the hangers in their hands. Mor Dhona may be covered in a gloomy storm, but the golden lights from the buildings around Revenant’s Toll Square still glow brightly in the distance, a refuge from the biting torrent of cold rain.

“Survived the water,” they sign slowly, stepping closer to the fireplace in a subtle attempt to dry off a bit quicker, almost fumbling when their fingers stiffen, chilled to the bone. Thancred laughs, the bridge of his nose crinkling just a tad like how it does when he can’t stop cracking himself up. “Still has power, too.”

“Glad to see it has survived, then.” There’s a slight pause where Thancred stops talking (and laughing) to catch his breath, the small silence filled with Zaya leaving frame to go hang their soaked clothes over the fireplace to hopefully dry for tomorrow. When they come back to look at the camera, a kaleidoscope of colorful lights dance across Thancred’s face, some colorfully lit attraction before him leaving his platinum blonde hair awash with a rainbow of color. “The storm there should burn off by early dawn, though; hopefully you will not have to drag yourself home dripping wet from your business in Mor Dhona.”

Ah, good. They yawn as discreetly as someone who’s on a video call can—which is to say, not very, and a rosy flush must spread on their face when Thancred chuckles under his breath, low and steady. 

“Forgive me,” he says next, voice lowered as if he were disturbing someone’s rest. “I must be keeping you from collapsing; I can’t imagine a drive in the freezing rain and getting soaked is the least draining way to spend one’s night.”

In-between stretching out the tense muscles in their back and neck do they grunt some noise of agreement, the strain flaring momentarily before melting into a drowsy warmth that drips down the ridges of their spine. Really, spending time in Mor Dhona at all is a draining waste of time—when you make your home in somewhere as vibrantly quiet as Gannet Bay it’s hard to want the big city over the comforts of familiarity, of knowing each shop and its owners personally, of being able to help them all and see their smiles.

At least they can see one person from home, now.

“ ‘S fine,” they mumble softly, heart stuttering when Thancred’s smile widens at the sound of their voice. Part of them wishes they were there to playfully elbow him for that—it’s not that rare tha they’ll speak—and the other part of them they are desperately trying to ignore. “How’s th’ fair.”

“Wonderful.” He looks up for a moment as Zaya wraps themselves in the bed coverings, presumably to whatever booth or stall is shining down on his face with fluorescent lights. “Ryne’s had a wonderful time, I think. I haven’t seen your friends around, but would you like to hear about the odd variety of attractions around?”

Zaya hums sleepily, waiting for him to continue. They hardly even notices when their eyelids grow heavy and their fingers return to their usual warmth, entranced enough by the fond familiarity of Thancred’s voice as they drift off to sleep.

…

The next morning, Zaya wakes with the dawn that rises across Mor Dhona, the bright golden sunrise sneaking through the cracks of the large curtains to tickle their bedsheets. The cityscape outside the window is covered by low autumn morning fog, glimmering as the sunlight dances over it and the puddles the passing storm had left behind in its wake. Outside, it is nearly silent, only a few passing cars and hardly any pedestrians around when Zaya does their morning stretches by the window.

As is always with a trip into the city, they fall into an easy routine; wake with the sun, stretch out whatever they can without breaking something, get dressed and hastily grab everything before rushing out the door, wave Tataru a rushed but genuine goodbye. Trot down to the parking garage, check the bike, throw the satchel back into the luggage on the back as they slip on their stereo cuffs and flick through playlists on their phone before going to get breakfast at the Bismarck—

Zaya pauses their flick-tap scroll through the playlists on their phone when they catch one with their name. Odd; Thancred did always have the habit of making his friends their own personal playlists, but they’d like to think they didn’t give him that much of a read on their tastes just yet.

Shrugging to no one but themselves, they tap on the playlist and let it begin to play as they slide the phone back into their overall pocket, starting up their motorcycle’s engine just as the song begins to play.

They stop. 

[ DM history with @superbolide; 7:36 AM]

zayaya ❓ zayaya 🌅😊❗🎵🎧💿❓❓ superbolide good morning to you too :) you’re up rather early superbolide something the matter? superbolide ah          i haven’t got another song for you yet, if that’s the question   rest assured, i’ll find something yet! zayaya 🙅

It hardly takes them more than a few seconds to grab a small screenshot of the playlist in question, sending it and another screenshot back to Thancred as they quietly listen to the same song Rjoli and Reese had playing near constantly for last Valentione’s Day in the bakery—still manages to be catchy, somehow. Let it not be said that acoustic covers were not their favorite.

The notification ringtone chimes when Thancred responds, cheery and bright.

Zaya goes a bit bug-eyed at what he types next, the song fading off as the next one on shuffle comes up—piano, humming, Thancred’s voice—

Thankfully, for it being so early in the morning, there’s no one around in the parking garage to judge the frankly embarrassing noise they make at their phone, or the bright flush that spreads across their face.

It isn’t like that, they remember saying, sputtering like a fish out of water when Lunya had barely insinuated that Thancred’s small wave as he walked past was a bit more than friendly. There’s no way he’d be interested in the courier that helped him choose out a ribbon at the local boutique, of all people! He doesn’t even know where I work!

Zaya drops their forehead onto the dash of their motorcycle, careful not to hit their horns against anything as they do.

Looks like they were wrong, about it ‘not being like that’. Maybe.

(Oh gods, they really hope they’re wrong.)

…

[ text channel #mom-panic; 8:03 AM]

💬 this says zaya is typing...

this says zaya😑 this says zaya💭🌑💘 🤟 ❓ banned for baby crimes DOES HTAT MEAN WHAT I THINK IT DOES closest to hell zaya qestir i swear on your lover boy’s life clarify for the peanut gallery local breadhead :0 reese is in pieces :O( i think            hm reese is in pieces :O( zaya did thancred just confess or did somethign else happen this says zaya [ superbolide: oh haha i must have forgotten to upload those to my lifestream] this says zaya [ superbolide: there are some songs i did save, but all the clips there were lyrics i thought of after chatting w/ you 😉] this says zaya [ superbolide: i could make an EP dedicated to you w/ the inspo you gave me] this says zaya [ superbolide: that is, if you don’t mind] Hanami Hagane I told you he was obvious. closest to hell SATINA YOU OWE ME GUMMIES FROM SHOOTING STAR I CALLED IT closest to hell IT WAS OBVIOUS THE MUSIC HES MAKING WAS BC OF THEM local breadhead oh bless… that’s v sweet… banned for baby crimes HBHBHHB NOOO MY HARD EARNED GIL,,, banned for baby crimes BUT WE ALL WERE RIGHT ABOUT HIM THO reese is in pieces :O( awwwauaua!! banned for baby crimes so banned for baby crimes zaya banned for baby crimes when’s the wedding this says zaya 😡😡😡 closest to hell me🤝sati “when’s the wedding” this says zaya 👆💀🏡 Hanami Hagane You two better start running. banned for baby crimes WAIT ZAYA NO-

[fistsoflightning]

and then there was two.

there will always be someone who is completely, wholly unsaveable.

        gatheredfates’ [30 day WOL challenge] | prompt: salvation

even before zaya met the newest reincarnation of minfilia, part of them knew it wouldn’t be who they were expecting.

minfilia—the first minfilia, the one who kept this world living for two centuries longer than it should, started a cycle of new minfilias that inevitably dashed their lives against the horde of sin eaters because her self-sacrificing, bleeding, golden heart would never be dimmed by something as simple as time and new life—had been dead for a very long time. even before those two centuries lost to halting the flood. she may have died in the sil’dih aqueducts to save what warriors of light she could, but to zaya she died the moment they drank firebrand poison and wine while toasting to a naive new ul’dah.

the memory of her haunts both of them in the worst ways, the two of them cursed to be in pain just by being touched by minfilia back before she was a leader and icon and a banner to rally under; hells, that selfsame memory nearly got both thancred and zaya killed, back when they were out for someone to blame for all the regrets wadded into the hole in their chests that losing her made standing by the cliffside outside of idyllshire.

but she will always, always be right over zaya’s shoulder no matter what, so they try their best to separate the minfilia living inside their head and the minfilia standing right in front of them; in this world, minfilia is more than a decade younger than her, more a daughter than a sibling and deserving of so much more than what zaya can give her. it’s going through the motions but with only half the heart behind them; half-moon smiles, quiet adventures in il mheg, laughs that are less than their usual thunderous quality. their heart has been bleeding for far too long to remember how they even managed to comfort lunya, sirius, and valdis in those humble beginnings in pearl lane, wound deepened by missing friends and another war.

zaya may have been one of many warriors of light, but minfilia was the leader of the scions, the one who remembered thancred and zaya from before the calamity split their memories into two, the one who persevered through countless duties and pains to make sure the world at large would be safer, if even by just a fraction. 

and even in death, she leaves both zaya and thancred on their knees when the child whose name is only minfilia because it fulfills the populace’s need for heroes and legends and lights at the ends of countless tunnels says:

“i wish they’d just say it—just say that they hate me! i can see it thancred’s eyes, in zaya’s smiles—that they wish i was dead so she could return…”

…

there will always be another version of them hiding behind the topmost layer, and zaya finds that the newest one is quieter. more akin to brooding than to escaping or confronting, more like the state they were in after fighting zenos back in ghimlyt dark. they thought they’d shaken this version of themselves off, stored it in the back of their mind.

and yet here it is, with all the dreadful penchant for reminiscence they could ever want.

someone in their motley crew of heroes suggests they take a night of rest before facing a trolley ride one might not return from—honestly, zaya wouldn’t be surprised if it were lunya or hanami who asked (more like demanded), hoping to get them (or thancred) to say something, anything—and by the dirty looks lunya gives both of them before retreating to her sleeping bag, thancred hasn’t done anything either.

“i can’t believe either of you right now. idiots, the both of you.” lunya hisses as she rolls out her bedroll next to hanami’s, and zaya silently agrees before slinking out of the small room all of them have been spared to sleep in for a few short bells.

even in spite of the light festering under their skin, eating away at the font of lightning at the center of their soul and sapping their energy. zaya is too tired to sleep. too awake, too aware to sort through everything, and too in pain from the swell of their heart beneath their skin to choke out the words i’m sorry in some worthless attempt to make up for faults that have been lying below the surface of their skin for years.

so instead of retreating to the shed thaffe and jeryk cleared for them to sleep in, away from the endless light, they climb up to the tallest cliff, sit at the edge, and stare blankly into the orange sands of amh araeng. waiting, observing, taking in the endless weight of a dying world and drowning in it to see if they can even possibly measure up to what little minfilia feels when the people of the crystarium call her oracle, a beacon, a living legend.

even if zaya was fourteen again and filled with the anger at their own family they’d dispensed a while back, they don’t think the sheer rage of being shunned would match up to the despair of not just feeling, but knowing two people who are supposed to be your guardians detest you. zaya couldn’t dare to pretend they knew the pain minfilia was going through. hells, they barely knew themselves; understanding others was beyond them.

so they don’t, and instead of dwelling on the things they cannot understand, they focus on meditating—familiar, comforting, simple. close your eyes, breathe in deep, count to ten, exhale, repeat until your thoughts are calm instead of thunderous. 

and, inevitably, in the quiet lull of the thunderstorms inside their head, their thoughts wander to the minfilia they knew—the one that yet lives inside their head.

she might be two summers their elder, but zaya can’t help but think of her as younger, even when they met in the goldsmith’s guild all those years ago—she a miner with a gift and an almost-brother and they a goldsmith with nothing left to lose. even now, with her eyes stolen away by the crystalline blue of hydaelyn, zaya can remember the warm grey from before she was a mouthpiece for this god all of them were bound to, and wonders why.

why take her? why someone so dedicated, so optimistic, so many things left to do and say? why make her a mouthpiece instead of giving the mercy of not seeing your friends and almost-family suffer at the sight of you? why can’t zaya save the first woman they thought of as my sister since leaving the steppe?

i promise i won’t hurt you, they said once upon a time to a girl afraid of them because of their legacy as the ‘bolt from the blue’, coliseum menace and one of few to face off against ‘raging bull’ raubahn aldynn and survive the encounter. i promise.

why were they calling themselves a hero—or worse, minfilia’s friend if they couldn’t extend, couldn’t keep that promise with a girl that carries minfilia’s legacy?

zaya opens their eyes to the expanse of orange sands once again, entirely drained and wanting to go back to a time before… everything. they can’t come up with an answer before sati comes out from the bushes and sits beside them, laying her hand over theirs in a solidarity zaya hasn’t seen from her in years—not since she was small enough to not see above their waist and living under both dorbei’s and their care.

“are you…” sati trails off, her voice murky, like zaya is underwater and hasn’t surfaced in a long, long time. “no. i’m… i’ll just sit here, ‘kay? not gonna leave you here.” her voice is the firmest it’s been in years, more confident in her decision than ever before, and zaya doesn’t fight it. they don’t fight reese or rjoli’s pitying stares, ihget’sae’s worried glance from the corner of the room, hanami’s angry tail whips, or lunya’s frustrated silence when they walk back into the shed, either. they don’t rest much either, instead pulling out their journal and flipping to the page where thancred had jokingly wrote some poetry over five years ago, before everything crumbled and their ul’dahn trio fell to two, fingertips running over the words—

but i have promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep, and miles to go before i sleep.

…

zaya quietly walks over to minfilia as thancred and urianger do some final checks to their equipment and the talos, not really knowing where their fellow warriors are but knowing they don’t have long before they leave. their stomach churns, empty and hollow, but filled with imaginary butterflies instead; the kind that accompanies both their feelings for thancred and the dread of arguments.

“minfilia?” they say as clearly as possible, voice still cracking from the dryness of amh araeng and the struggle of learning to speak after decades of hardly opening their mouth. “c’n we talk?”

she sniffles, nodding her head, and zaya scoops up both of her hands into theirs, quietly turning her to face them and oh, her eyes are still red and teary, she’s still not handling this well. the urge to just pull her into a hug and never let go is overwhelming, but what she needs is not a pat to the head, not a simple hug, not just loving words and a sincere apology but all of the above.

if only thancred could pull his guts together to join them.

“heard you an’ urianger yesterday,” zaya says soothingly, tightening their grip over minfilia’s small hands only when fear seeps into her expression. “and ‘m so, so sorry i can’t love you the way you need me to.”

minfilia practically stumbles over her words, quietly tugging her hands further and further from zaya’s grasp and oh gods zaya really hopes they aren’t hurting her, quickly letting go when she tugs next. “i—no, it’s fine, i promise! yesterday was just—”

“no, y’u were…” it’d be too cruel to say that she was wrong; too cruel to say that both of them truly wanted the best for her, didn’t hate her in misguided parts when thancred said nothing at all and zaya couldn’t find the right things to tell her, but it was easier, if needed. then again, zaya had never been one for the path of least resistance. “you were right, but not about one thing; we… we both hate ourselves.”

she looks utterly shocked at the idea, but zaya pushes forward and tells the tale of how they and thancred almost didn’t live to see norvrandt; how they pushed each others’ buttons until he cracked first, how they both tortured themselves over the mess that was that age-old escape from ul’dah and how minfilia’s legacy has haunted them for longer before they knew her… with many, many changes. it isn’t a ballad, nor a fairytale, but it is the truth, and it is what she deserves to know about her guardian and her ally.

“you… you two…?” she mumbles, eyes wide and less teary than before. good. “but—you two are practically—when we were in dhon mheg, and the ravel, and the temple, you two were inseparable.”

zaya feels like that is a gross exaggeration—they can stand not knowing how thancred is doing for a few minutes—but continues anyways. “not always. we’re a lil’ stupi’ now, b’t we were worse ‘fore this.”

“i don’ wanna be forgiven,” they say, quietly; a secret that very few know and even fewer try to remember. “i don’ deserve to, an’ neither does thancred. but…” they pull her closer, wrapping their arms around her back and hugging her tight, as if she might suddenly disappear from zaya’s life like minfilia did all those years ago before they could tell her how incredibly glad they were to know her. “i wanna try again—do better, f’r you, if you let me.”

minfilia, for all her strength, doesn’t respond—not speechless, but occupied. her tears drip, drip, drip down zaya’s back, the blue overcoat they normally wear tied around their waist to reveal their (rather ragged) white tanktop. when she does catch her breath for long enough in gaps between her silent sorrow, she pulls her arms away from zaya’s chest to wrap around their neck instead, burying her face into their shoulders.

“i… i don’t know, yet,” she says truthfully, and zaya is glad thancred told her about the whole lying versus harsh truth thing they’ve always had a hard time explaining themselves. “can i tell you when we get back?”

when we get back, zaya thinks, sifting through the words in their head. she was always more earnest around them, or lunya, or any of their small crew that wasn’t thancred, really, but in her words she promises, not tries to promise. we.

“o’ course,” zaya promises back, because it’s the least they can do. they have a lot of promises to keep, they realize shortly after opening their mouth, but it feels… good. “always.”

...

the trolley crashes—because yet again, nothing is ever easy for the warriors of darkness, is it?—zaya’s horn is cracked from falling onto a very big rock, ran’jit is soaked in the memories of an old, different minfilia and then betrayed by the newest minfilia, and thancred stays behind. zaya prays it’s not because he fears what he might say to the old minfilia but because he’s had decades to learn that sometimes actions speak as loud as words do from learning zaya’s story until it was burned into his memory, fingers calloused and burnt from learning a storm made incarnate inside out, and he’s finally decided to use that knowledge instead of keeping it boxed in his chest. their head is utterly throbbing as they run ahead of lunya, lightning running through their blood faster than ever before because what if they lose not one but two on this journey, what if thancred has finally bit off more than he can chew, what if it’s like ul’dah all over again—

“zaya!” ihget’sae barks out in worry, even if his voice is more angry than it is soothing, and it hurts so much more than they thought it would to listen. “slow down!”

they stop, then, if only because the sickening feeling of bile rising up their throat from the pain is new, different, horrible. minfilia—who looks worriedly at them as she passes—keeps running ahead, and only when hanami and sati catch up to all of them does zaya start their desperate sprint again.

when the light-seared sky makes hanami’s aurum regis horn glint menacingly, zaya clutches at their own horn tighter. the crack feels bigger than it should, but it—their horn—doesn’t matter. if the price to pay for norvrandt’s salvation was their horn and the pain sure to follow, they’d pay it gladly. they’ve survived worse than a loss of balance; even if it did mess up their ability to fight with their fists, it would be a equal exchange for a world.

one life for one world, urianger’s voice rings from memory, except this time he had no say in the sacrifice. 

good, a more bitter part of them responds. the pure rancor from the voice inside their head sings of something abyssal, something they usually bury under lightning and fire and earth, but it sings truer than most of zaya’s scattered thoughts, as of late. as it should be.

zaya keeps running.

and when they finally make it to the fallen palace of nabaath areng and get dragged through a centuries-old memory of ardbert, minfilia, the warriors of darkness before them, and the flood, zaya is left on their knees by minfilia for the second and final time.

“ours is a meeting long overdue,” the word says to the oracle, not even waiting for the warriors surrounding little minfilia to regain their bearings. “full glad am i that we may finally speak.”

zaya remains sitting on the liquid crystal floor as lunya, hanami, sati—everyone but them gets up to look minfilia—the word of the mother minfilia—eye to eye, instead staring at the light bleeding and blurring her figure like some runny painting in a tarnished storybook left out in the rain. maybe it’s the tears stinging at the corners of zaya’s vision, but she looks… tired. tired of waiting, tired of watching, tired of perpetuating a cycle of pain and suffering that is going to end, one way or another, now.

and suddenly, they have one answer to thousands of whys. minfilia cannot be saved, they think, because she is like you. determined. blessed. chosen. (cursed.)

so when the word—minfilia looks to them longingly, zaya does not say how they wish she was still alive, how they wish they could show her what they can accomplish now. instead, zaya foolishly says, “t’hncred says ‘ello,” and keeps their mouth shut for the rest of the short visit to some realm where the gold of both minfilias’ hair bleeds into the light-soaked scenery, their saved tears quietly hidden behind untied hair and long bangs.

they think they might make it from this conversation relatively whole, watching quietly and contentedly as the two daughters of hydaelyn speak their minds with them as the witnesses. the almost do, and then minfilia whispers “i am truly sorry, friend. i love you.” and zaya’s heart is undone.

…

they don’t wake up with everyone else at the foot of nabaath areng, after minfilia disappears for good and after the waking memories of ardbert being refused his sacrifice.

instead, zaya wakes to their hair untied, thancred’s (torn, bloodied, stained) coat thrown over them, and a girl with grey eyes and terra-cotta hair looking surprised to see them awake. not a few seconds later does zaya sit up, head reeling as they look around to see the scions sitting just a little bit over three yalms away

“zaya,” she exhales tiredly. “you’re awake. lunya thought—” she points to their right horn, not daring to touch the ridges. “—the wound you were hiding here was more serious than just knocking you unconscious, seeing as it… well.”

they reach up to touch where the crack was, fingertips shaky and scratched up beyond all belief and find the smooth surface that only accompanied crystal, and from the slight thrum in their horn from the touch…

“thancred says it’s lightning crystal, or some gemstone attuned to your aether.” the girl carefully presses a mirror—dusty, old, slightly cracked—into their hands. “i, er. i don’t quite understand it all, but… when she—minfilia, that is—brought us back to nabaath areng, my appearance and your horn were already like this.”

zaya lifts the mirror to their face, and oh—the crack on their horn is filled with small slivers of gleaming gemstone; blue topaz, which explains the weird, sharp, clear and crisp tones to all of the sounds zaya’s can hear. it’s almost too similar to the exarch’s situation, what with the crystal marking his face and arm, but hells, they’re surprised they can hear at all with the gemstone filling the gaps between rough bone. gemstones aren’t crystal, after all.

but zaya has more pressing matters to attend to than figuring out the logistics of filling in a fracture with a non-organic material; besides, it’s not like their horn will be going anywhere.

“who are you?” zaya asks as the chatter from the scions and warriors die down.

“i—” the small girl with the weight of a two century long legacy in her hands and every last one of them standing by her side pauses, a small glimmer of hope crossing her eyes like a thunderbolt as she looks at them carefully. they both know what zaya asked wasn’t from amnesia, but of something else. “my name… is ryne.”

firefly, zaya quickly signs, and thancred inhales sharply from three yalms away even as ryne tilts her head in confusion. he knew nearly every sign in the book; it wasn’t surprising he’d catch them giving ryne a gift of their own. it’s the closest to saying i love you so, so much without saying it at all, because words wouldn’t possibly fit i’m sorry, are you alright, and can i try again all in six words.

“means firefly,” they clarify for ryne when she looks back at thancred, confusion turning into worry. “your new namesign, if you want? can’t keep callin’ y’u minfilia.”

“...i would like that very much,” ryne says, smiling and trying to keep a few tears from building at the corners of her eyes, and in that very moment—then there were two of an old friendship left behind, the shadow of minfilia finally lifting from zaya’s shoulder as ryne’s smile brought zaya’s heart back; salvation.

[fistsoflightning]

mune ga hachikire-sōde

my chest is about to burst.

                          gatheredfates’ [30 day WOL challenge] | prompt: letter 

just a lil bit of catharsis for me… sort-of kind-of a follow up to holy! also @to-the-voiceless​ i am So Sorry for this, thank you for letting me take the linkpearl idea from this fic but also i’m really sorry for the angst again??? that playlist you made for harudewah. i am Still losing my mind over it.

also CW: a’dewah definitely has an anxiety/panic attack and it’s. kinda hard for me to read through and i was the one who wrote it? just take caution since emotions are Messy!

[ao3 mirror] (the word count rounds to about 7.5k!)

“but i find that lately i've been crying like a tall child…  

...please, hurry, leave me, i can't breathe

please don't say you love me

mune ga hachikire-sōde

one word from you and i would

jump off of this ledge i'm on, baby

tell me "don't", so i can crawl back in”

- first love/late spring, mitski

it’s barely three nights after the last visit to the cabinet that a’dewah finds himself again holed up between shelves and books, studying potential ways for g’raha to infuse the damned auracite with his blood, and a’dewah has only just realized that his hands are shaking and he has a craving to teleport to doma on a whim. a small craving for salmon muffins tickles the back of his mind, but he shoves it aside.

“i suppose i should have expected this,” he sighs to no one in particular, a small wave of magic stopping the shivering in his fingers. if only he could heal away the rest. magic can only keep him running for so long, and to extend one’s waking hours like he does would be considered harmful at best and eventually fatal at worst, should he keep doing so.

whatever must be done to keep myself from doing something stupid.

it’s not hard to see him falling back into old patterns—of tiring himself out so he doesn’t think too hard about what he doesn’t want to dwell on, of slipping further and further into both avoiding his feelings and drowning in them. his old friend; that familiar hollow, needy feeling that chews at his sanity yet again as he keeps writing down formulas that might save g’raha from doing something rash that will absolutely earn him a beating from… well. a number of people in the future. that tiny, loud, intriguingly horrible idea that sits in the center of the empty warmth burning low in his chest like a lantern running on its last bits of oil.

an angry, huffy exhale escapes his otherwise tightly sealed lips. hells, that hollow feeling shouldn’t even be there in the first place; it’s not as if he had no source of comfort here on the first—he doesn’t need haruki’s attention like some fragile flower, he could just ask zaya or wyda for a hug if he really needed the warm feeling. he shouldn’t be needing to constantly argue with himself whether he should write a letter, or call, or do nothing at all.

really, what he should do is stop thinking about it, but here he is, squeezing his eyes shut and keeping his hands planted on the table. he shouldn’t want what he nearly destroyed this much, and yet—

greedy, he chides, forcing himself to hold the quill tighter so that it presses into the callus forming on the side of his finger; a quiet, grounding pain. not even elwin sounds this silly. ‘wanting’. he doesn’t particularly care for arcanima, but if it helps him in the game of tag he’s playing with his own feelings for what feels like the millionth time in his life…  

a’dewah keeps writing. reaches out for a book to his left, only flicking his eyes over for a moment to see the cover he needs, and then he sees the kanai-anzen omamori sitting on top of the very book he’d been meaning to crack open next, waiting from when zaya quietly snuck over to sit with him for a few bells.

great.

the prospect of slamming his head into the damned table and giving himself a dire enough concussion so that someone in this library gets the guts to drag him to chessamile and have her put him to sleep—preferably for a long, long time—grows more enticing every moment his brain spends convincing him that making a small, short call wouldn’t be so bad. so does the idea of finding a pouch of dream powder and using as sugar in his chamomile tea later even though he knows how lengthy a lecture he’ll receive from g’raha, alphinaud, y’shtola and lunya if he does try it.

y’shtola would be disappointed in me; looking for a simple way out instead of pushing forward, he thinks, lifting his quill from the page and glaring at the small ink pool in his usually neat (doman) handwriting. he’s still not accustomed to writing with a quill but eorzean shopkeeps don’t carry calligraphy brushes, especially not ones small enough for his needs. 

but someone in kugane might, he thinks and gods he just needs to get it over with otherwise he’ll never make it to tomorrow night with his sanity intact.

he leans back in the hard, wooden chair, running a hand through his too-tightly tied up hair until his fingertips brush the edges of his linkpearl earring, searching for the one that cools his burning hands like diving into a river. once he finds it, it’s almost too simple to thumb open a connection despite the larger-than-usual tug on his own aether, the gentle chiming as he waits leaving him to wonder if this was going to be another one of his mistakes. he takes a sip of his (cold, stale) tea, steals a glance back down at the damned arcanima circles, stares back up at the glass ceiling of the cabinet and counts the stars as he waits, still pushing away the wanting that suffocates his heartbeat.

the monotonous chimes give way to a whole lot of static and the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind, and a’dewah almost thinks he’s used the wrong linkpearl until a tired, gentle voice like lazy river water whispers, “hey, can you keep this quick? it’s kinda late, and i’ve had a pretty long day.”

“ruki,” a’dewah breathes out, sitting up straight in his chair as haruki gives out a small ah of surprise. his tea is definitely cold, but he feels warmed anyways, a jolt of energy restoring the clarity to his murky thoughts. “sorry, is it a bad time?”

“a little, but i really thought you were hana-chan, or tsukiko—sorry, mune fell asleep while we were out and i was a little preoccupied.” for a connection made across worlds, the quality isn’t all that bad—a result of zaya’s very long search for a good linkshell to gift him, probably—and through it he can hear running water, maybe a few splashes and the click of haruki’s sabatons against stone as he walks slowly. he’d have sped up, if a’dewah were actually there to see him. he must be at the docks of the enclave, walking home with mune cradled in his arms. “what’s up?”

“nothing, really. i just—” needed to hear your voice. wanted to take a bit of your time. craved the warm feeling that fills my chest anytime you laugh or call me sunshine. “i have a bit of down time, and thought i’d see if you were, uh, free to talk? we—last time i was dragged into treasure hunting before i’d got to catch up with you, so i was thinking we could, well, just talk.”

“for you? of course,” haruki says, and a’dewah nearly breathes out a sigh. “just lemme get mune in bed and we can ramble about our days, or… weeks? hey, is it night there too?”

a’dewah nearly says yes, but the chirping birds and first light outside the windows of the cabinet tell him otherwise… but if he says it’s early morning, like very early, will haruki just tell him to go to bed like everyone else? he lays his head down flat on the table, staring at the quill loose in his hand and the incomplete formula on the parchment in front of him longingly. he doesn’t want that. ah, and again; wanting.

“no,” he lies, steadying his voice. a little half-truth wouldn’t hurt him… hopefully. “it’s a little later than dawn, but it’s still morning.”

“er, sir a’dewah?” just his luck; moren comes around the side of the bookshelf, eyes worried and moss green hair tied into a bun—it seems the warmer weather was getting even to the recluse librarian. “the exarch requests you do sleep soon, partly on lady lanya’s behalf? i… don’t quite know how he knows your whereabouts, but he said something about requesting the help of a “hagane-san”... d-do you think he’s in need of chessamile’s sleep draughts again?”

a’dewah stifles a groan, because moren had thoroughly blown a massive hole in his lie and haruki would have heard him. plus—since when did lunya and g’raha know about his sleeping issues? why is g’raha threatening him with hanami? why is lunya so worried about him? he lifts his head from the table, somehow pulling himself together enough to smile back at moren.

“send him my deepest regards, and that i will as soon as i’ve finished here.” a’dewah points to the linkpearl earring gleaming lightly in the dim candlelight and then to his pile of papers, and moren nods before scurrying off, presumably to wherever g’raha is watching him from. gods, if he didn’t fear lunya’s wrath, he might have strongly suggested g’raha stuff it.

haruki pipes up after moren’s footsteps recede into the sounds of dawn, more worried than chiding when he says, “dewah—”

“i know, ruki, sorry, i was just—i’m in the middle of a formula and got stumped so i called instead,” a’dewah says sheepishly, picking up his quill and writing down a few more calculations before capping his inkwell. less so being stumped and more so not wanting to do it, really, but that was for him to know. “i’m getting out of the library, don’t raise your voice, remember mune has better hearing than you.” he always forgets that he isn’t a child anymore, somehow, with a booming voice and bigger lungs to talk with.

he hears a small sigh, the creaking of leather and a small squeak of metal hinges on a door accompanying it. almost amused, but still a little annoyed, and he can hear the new clack of metal boots hitting wood much clearer, the echoing distance quieter as haruki heads inside. “...go to bed; i’ll talk to you as much as you want once you’re in bed, ‘kay?”

“keep talking to me while i get back to the pendants,” he tries, a little desperate as he starts to clean his table, re-shelve the books and pick up his research. “and i promise i won’t make a stop at spagyrics to get g’raha more sleeping draughts.” a false threat; he’s not going to invite chessamile to worry herself over two miqo’te scholars losing sleep, but he… he needs haruki’s voice. wants the background noise as he makes a long walk to the other side of the crystarium, not wanting to risk aethernet travel bungling up his work. “just any old story will do.”

“sure,” haruki says, resigned and soft enough to make a’dewah feel like melting. “hey, something kinda funny happened in kugane today…”

as a’dewah quickens his stride so that he might cross the crystarium faster, passing by the aetheryte crystal that can’t take him home no matter how hard he tries, haruki regales him with the story of mune running off (worrying) and finding a great big green chicken (even more worrying) that was apparently the pet of a gigantic man named yojimbo (oh, he’s heard this tale before, with different names) and haruki having to chase him down, eventually running into hildibrand, nashu, and some poor sekiseigumi they dragged along for the ride who were also looking for yojimbo. at one point, he breaks his sentence to whisper good night to sleeping mune, whispering even softer than before and a’dewah finds himself whispering the same thing as he climbs up the steps and passes the manager of suites without even a hello. it doesn’t matter; he’s not loud enough for mune to hear him or know that his dad is talking to his uncle across the rift, and somehow that hurts more than the bruise he gets when he trips over the last step to the third floor.

“i suggest staying far away from anything involving hildibrand,” a’dewah says as he cracks open the door to find an empty suite awaiting him; wyda and tehra’ir had left for eulmore. duscha and valdis accompanied y’shtola back to rak’tika, while lumelle and elwin trekked back to the inn at journey’s head by alisaie’s side. everyone else is… on the source. “he has a knack for getting everyone into trouble.”

haruki laughs, the bright sound covering the rattling wind against the windows—it must be a summer storm rolling in for it to be that violent in less than an hour. “i know; i called hana-chan and lunya about him when i couldn’t find mune and the damn chicken and she nearly choked when i mentioned his name.” the quiet rumble of wooden drawers opening, latches being unclasped, and oh dear a’dewah needs to distract himself before he starts blushing like a drunkard. “i think ihget’sae nearly strangled him; ‘pparently lunya wrangled everyone to come investigate when she heard mune got lost in kugane-dori.”

lost in kugane-dori. even a’dewah’s a little frightened by the thought of mune getting lost, remembering what almost happened to elwin. “anyone would, really. hildibrand is…” a’dewah mumbles. he pulls his boots off and tosses them next to elwin’s sandals, hachigane and gloves placed on the countertop by syhrwyda’s new cookbooks. it takes a lot more effort than he thought it would not to just collapse into bed with his battle robe on, carefully moving to grab his kimono cardigan and pajamas from where zaya folded and placed them on the bench. “he’s a force of nature. a very dense force of nature.”

“so, like us, but… worse?”

he sounds almost hesitant, and a’dewah feels his ears pin back in slight embarrassment. “you’d have to ask hanami for her opinion. she’d described us as, er, something colorful when she realized i hadn’t told anyone i was no longer interested in g’raha. lunya overheard and, well… i feel you know us all well enough to understand just what happens when lunya finds out your secrets.”

“you didn’t tell them, ” haruki exhales in a wheezy breath. his voice is muffled momentarily by metal and leather being carefully set aside, back onto the third shelf in haruki’s closet just behind the spare miqo’te sized clothing, just for him. he usually wears his yukata to bed, and convinced a’dewah more than once to take one of his spares when he’d realized his normal sleeping attire was back home. he—rather shamefully and awfully desperate—imagines haruki digging through his closet for the right colored yukata, chest bare and shivering as a’dewah bites back a laugh of his own, remembering how he had to point a bleary, rushing haruki to where his usual clothing was when he nearly missed mune’s genealogy presentation because he kept both of them up half the night. he imagines seiryu’s scale and how it never comes off from haruki’s chest for longer than a few moments, mostly because it keeps coming back, and a’dewah can kind of hear the thrum of the auspice’s aether. he’d always jokingly stuff it in his own pocket when haruki got fussy about it, and they hadn’t realized it would stay in his pocket so long as he didn’t leave yanxia til a’dewah went with hanami to namai with it still there, sitting quietly in his robe’s pocket. “did hanami—”

“she threw me to the wolves, yes, and i can still hear lumelle and a’satina’s screech of excitement, do not laugh at me,” a’dewah says fruitlessly, since haruki’s already choking down his laughs so not to wake maki and have her yell at both of them for being rowdy at whatever time of night it is. at some point, haruki sounds like he’s inhaled helium, and that sets a’dewah off in the middle of taking off his robe, bending over and dropping one of the clasps for the chain keeping the front close and the sash tumbling to the floor.

“i—kami, i really love you,” haruki says as easily as he breathes once he catches his breath, followed by the sound of the closet door closing, the drawer rolling back into place, and his lance being set against the wall. a’dewah’s breath hitches, something more than a little terrifying starting to worm its way out from the cracks haruki’s i love you tears into his tempered walls. his cardigan feels scratchy against his skin as he sits on the too large bed, moving to grab a blanket or two as haruki resumes his routine.

and after he’s practically wrapped himself in the blankets to the point where he’s swaddled like a newborn, he mumbles, “i’m in bed.” the rumbling static climbs in volume as a small clap of thunder sounds—he wonders, briefly, if the storm is zaya’s fault somehow—but a’dewah can still hear haruki’s quiet humming, the tune familiar from when they were just ten and still tripping over the lyrics. haruki makes a small noise of affirmation, hums quieting down. he can see haruki’s eyes scrunching up, focusing in on whatever it might be.

he starts to remove the clips and pins in his hair as haruki’s softened hums keeps him company. part of him wonders if haruki’s untied his hair yet, letting the mess of turquoise and teal down from the singular hair tie he somehow keeps it all in, or if he’ll wait until he’s already in bed and about to fall asleep when he suddenly remembers about it. his fingers tingle with the feeling of carding through haruki’s hair and braiding it just to see if he could. part of him hopes haruki will let him do it again, even though the first time he’d somehow tangled up the three parts into more of a twist than a braid.

“okay! now i am too.” a loud puff of air comes through; haruki must have flopped onto the futon with his arms and legs spread out. the rustling of the blankets, even though a’dewah is certain it’s summer and there’s a rather humid storm outside. he usually pulls the covers up to his stomach, especially when haruki tugs him onto his chest and into his arms. “anyways, how was your da—er, night?”

“i was in the library for the past sixteen bells, ruki, i don’t think you want to hear about it. talk about your… your past few weeks?”

“ah, right,” he says, not at all phased by the confused tone of a’dewah’s voice. “well, i got back from gangos with a new staff for mune! i’m saving it for when he finishes his current lessons with the kojin on, er, water aether? he still doesn’t like going there alone, though; he keeps asking when you’ll come back whenever i mention it.”

“is that so?” a’dewah cracks a weak smile like haruki might see it somehow. “promise i’ll be back soon… but who made a custom staff for him?”

“oh, the bozjan resistance got… was it gerolt? well, it’s something about him being a great blacksmith perfect for reconstructing the blades of gunnhildr, and he was offering services to anyone who could get him the materials, so!”

haruki rambles on about how he’d needed to “expertly persuade” hanami into helping him out with finding the inscriptions for the weapon only to realize he couldn’t do shite since they’d have to delve into the memories of poor cid, who really deserved to have a break and a lot of tea, and with each sentence a’dewah sinks deeper into something horrible. the part of him that is selfish, craves attention and touch, seems so much colder now than it was before, the hollow pit now a yawning chasm of wanting. of yearning.

he does not deserve to be yearning for haruki’s hands running across his skin, scratching at the nape of his neck to comfort and behind his ears just for fun. love is not meant to be as one-sided as he’s making theirs, a cycle of unrequested but nonetheless cherished actions rather than one side constantly wanting and the other giving. part of him wonders if he really ever loved before, or if it was just the terrible, horrible monster inhabiting the same space as him craving affection and getting it however it could, wringing it from the people a’dewah cared for.

(did his short-lived love for g’raha feel as twisted as the garden of emotions he grows in his chest for haruki? or was this what being loved and loving in return felt like?)

he bites his lip as haruki mentions a few other things he’s had happen in the time a’dewah’s been away—a very lovingly made omamori from mune, complete with a cat charm that sounds terrifying to him that lunya chose out, something about meeting tsukiko in her civilian clothing and her panicking, a visit from seiryu and suzaku inquiring to his and hanami’s whereabouts that spooked shomi and maki for a precious few seconds, a conversation with someone who said how people dream to stay with someone even in sleep—and tries not to wish for too much. even with suzaku’s blessings, his heart was still weaker; if he stressed about how good a partner he was to haruki, he might die here without ever seeing him again.

he’s probably exaggerating a little, but he’s got that odd feeling he’s going to die soon. just a little.

when haruki finishes going on about his incredibly interesting past few moons, a comfortable, smothering silence begins. a’dewah shuffles himself about so his tail isn’t suffocated under the blanket, whipping about slowly. “hey, are… are maki-san and shomi-san still, er, angry at me?”

“you really can drop the honorific, dewah,” haruki chides quietly. “but! no. not really. mother might talk to you about communicating when you come back, but you’ll be fine.” it sounds an awful lot like i won’t let them hurt you, which is stupid; they’re haruki’s mothers, they wouldn’t hurt him intentionally—but a’dewah is much softer than the stuff aymeric and hanami and haruki are made of. a golden heart, haruki says, but gold is soft. malleable. melts, under enough heat, and he is already filled with enough molten feelings to rival the sun’s heat. a’dewah is fairly certain he will melt if he damages his relationship to the haganes more than he already has, the solar flares of regret and guilt worse than any magical red lilies he could conjure.

he wants and yet he fears what he craves, left wondering which part of him is the broken bit that needs to be healed so that he might be able to just ask for it instead.

“i… er, don’t believe you, really… but i miss all of you,” a’dewah admits, feeling a bit smaller and colder than before. then, a quieter, less sure thought that really has no business bothering him: “e-except maybe itomi-san, even though she d-doesn’t really count?”

“well, y’know, she and naonaka kinda disowned themselves, so you’ll be fine.” haruki’s voice drops a smidge into bitterness—well, that wasn’t what he meant to do, curse his stupid mouth—but haruki recovers easily. he always has. “homesick for here, huh? tell you what; you can list what you miss the most, and i’ll see if i can get hana-chan to carry it over for you. maybe a’khebica has some ideas.”

“i don’t—it’s. what i miss from there isn’t, er, something hanami can bring through the rift. khebica wouldn’t know, either.”

“well, the offer still stands; i might be able to arrange something,” haruki says, and a’dewah just knows he is winking to his ceiling with a gleaming grin across his face like a’dewah can see him, and in a way, he can. it takes everything he has not to groan and smile at the goofy thought in return.

even if he did list what he missed so much about home, he’d just sound so desperate because what he misses most is haruki. for the past four years he’s been confined to the first it’s been haunting him just how much he’d relied on haruki’s energy to fuel his own once garlemald started pressing down on them double time, wondering if any of his strength was really his own. he wants what the letters they send back and forth describe; the quiet nights spent in each others’ company, the adventures in eorzea he promised, the hugs and kisses and that one dance haruki really wants him to do, the garden they’ve been caring for since he’s been gone.

lunya had offhandedly mentioned, once, how he and haruki wrote to each other like a married couple in their honeymooning phase, and he flushed a brighter red than dalamud not because she implied they were married but because he really, really wanted that more than he should. a step too far too soon, especially with the empire breathing down the warrior of lights’ necks, but fuck he really wanted to promise his future to haruki even if he didn’t know how much longer he would live just because it felt more right than everything else a’dewah could have done.

he wants too much. greedy, needy, childish wants. he just wanted to be loved for so long, and now that he has it he wants more. wanton.  

“i can’t quite think of anything,” he lies through his teeth even though what he really wanted to say was i want to be yours, forever because he is and will always be a coward. “but if i figure something out i’ll tell you.”

for all his perceptiveness when a’dewah is sitting in front of him, haruki doesn’t seem to be able to pick up on him feeding both of them lies through linkpearl. maybe something to do with the interference. “‘kay.” the silence rolls back in, like an early morning fog that chills a’dewah because he knows what he’s dreading is hiding in that fog.

please don’t say you love me, a’dewah pleads even though that’s exactly what he wants to hear. i don’t want this to end, i want to listen to your voice for so much longer, i want to hear about you, i want, i want—

he must have pissed off some sort of kami of misfortune, because the very next thing haruki whispers to him, so sweet and kind and not at all knowing what he’s doing to a’dewah’s heart, is “i love you, dewah.”

“...l-love you too, ruki,” he barely manages to say, not even toying with the idea of saying love you more like usual, and oh he’s starting to cry, how embarrassing. it takes everything he has to clamp his hand over his traitorous mouth and patiently wait for haruki to end the connection, pull the blankets over his chest and go to sleep while a’dewah fights with the monster leaping out of the holes in his greedy, greedy heart.

for a moment, haruki goes quiet, only soft breathing coming over the aetheric connection, and a’dewah thinks he might be asleep. he… hopes haruki is asleep; he doesn’t know what he’d do if haruki heard him, really.

and then of course a’dewah’s fingers slip, a loud sob that sounds more like a dying cat than him tearing through the cracks, and the silent turmoil is broken as haruki obviously gets pulled from the beginnings of sleep.

“...sunshine?” haruki asks, sleep fogging up his voice and a’dewah stupidly opens his mouth to respond which only lets out a whimper instead of it’s fine , and gods he’s a horrible, horrible mess, why is he like this . it’s not fair of him to keep asking for haruki to talk him down from the edge, to cry every time he calls and expect haruki to pick up the pieces when they both know hearing him crumbles hurts both of them. “dewah? was that noise you?”

and on the other end, a’dewah can hear the rustling of blankets being pushed off—shite, he’s keeping haruki up by being a child about this—and haruki’s hands slapping onto his bedding in a light thump as he pushes himself up in fear. “what’s wrong,” haruki says so kindly and fuck, he’s crying harder now and a’dewah was already teetering on edge of something completely and entirely disastrous before he did this, why did he do this again? “did something happen?��

everything is happening at once, more like. 

“i don—i don’t know,” he cries, wrapping his arms around his head like he used to when prisca would say stop crying like it would keep him safe from his own thoughts… but haruki’s not prisca and he’s using his time for him instead of for himself so why is this even happening, he shouldn’t be panicking. the blanket tangles around him, comfort twisted into a trap and a’dewah feels like he’s drowning. “i wish i did but i don’t and i’m so sorry please just end the call i need you to sleep—”

part of him is screaming please don’t leave me alone and the other part wails don’t listen to me cry again, i can’t be good for your health while a third, utterly confused bit of him sits trapped in the middle, hunkered down. the monster a’dewah has been running from has opened its maw and spews out all the things he utterly craves but ultimately does not deserve from life, threatening to swallow him whole and permanently, this time.

“sunshine, i’m not going to let you be alone when you’re crying like that,” haruki says, and a’dewah can’t tell if it’s pity or disappointment pouring through the linkpearl but he hates it, please just leave him here to suffer. “unfortunately, you’ve found a very stubborn person to date.”

he knows, but he also knows haruki knows danger when he hears it, so why doesn’t he run from this? 

because he loves you, part of him thinks in mune’s voice, remembering the comfort the little raen boy could bring in four words when a’dewah looked worried in the middle of teaching him something and gods, since when was a child more emotionally mature than him?

maybe because you never got the chance to be a kid and grow up normally, he thinks again, teetering dangerously close to hyperventilating as he practically strangles his fingers in his tangled hair.

he has absolutely zero clue what haruki has been saying for the past few moments, evident in the rising worry seeping through haruki’s usually calm, energetic, happy voice. “love, i need you to breathe,” he coos, and a’dewah hisses, lungs not working with him no matter how much he wants to listen, his wanting finally turning on its head. “here; listen to me. follow, please, i can’t help you if you hyperventilate.”

he’s extremely glad past him had the forethought to tell haruki a bit about how he deals with scared patients, because he remembers to murmur in, breath deep, out, breathe out, and even though a’dewah chokes on his own air he can catch up. i’m here, i’m here, haruki hisses between breaths, and hells open, heavens weep, if he wasn’t already crying his dedication to making sure he’s alright rather than listening and cutting the call would have made him weep.

“hey, sh-sh-sh,” haruki coos once a’dewah’s breaths sound less like desperate gasps for air and more like struggling to breath past the fat tears streaming down his face. “i won’t leave you alone, you can pretend i’m there next to you until you can actually lie down next to me again.”

but you know i’m no good at playing pretend. he can’t believe himself, sobbing and wrapping himself further under his blanket and letting the fluffy, stuffy feeling wrap around him in some poor facsimile of being hugged. nothing here could possibly measure up to the feeling he so desperately craves, even though it’s just being in haruki’s arms. all he really wants is a hug. imagine that. 

gods, it must be killing haruki to listen to a’dewah sob like he’s dying—he’s never going to tell haruki that he actually died, a bolt of ice piercing through his chest and suzaku’s feather on a staff he had no access trying to save him once more—and he has half a mind to cut the connection between linkpearls just to save one of them from being in pain but his arm makes the executive decision to try and rip his hair out instead. he almost never has control over himself when he’s blubbering, so he’s not so much surprised as he is sickened by his lack of restraint.

“i—” he chokes on the words, a hiccuping gasp shocking both of them. “i’m s-orry, i didn’t mean t’ pull you back from sleeping.”

his chest feels like there’s a thousand ponze weight crushing it down into dust, his emotions becoming too much like they always do, inevitably. in a better universe, maybe he would have had the restraint to let haruki go to sleep first, cut the call, and be miserable on his own until wyda came back, or duscha decided to return because he somehow always knew when he’d break down next. so did krile. maybe there’s just something innately motherly about scholars when it comes to their younger peers (was krile older than him?).

“i wasn’t meaning to pass out then and there, dewah, but i’m sorry for making you think i was going to leave you hanging like that.” haruki makes a little noise that sounds like oh dear, followed by the quiet ripping of fabric. did he clench his sheets so hard his nails tore into them? “i had a feeling something was wrong from the moment you said you called because you had time.”

well then. isn’t that a bit embarrassing, to be found out from the beginning. “i shouldn’t have called.”

“but you did, and i’m very glad for it,” haruki answers honestly, and a’dewah can imagine him sitting, a little hunched over and relieved, eyes half-lidded and foggy with sleep, because he’s always been one to work himself down to the bone and pass out, and a’dewah’s been keeping him up for stupid reasons, this time. “you deserve to feel okay, and i don’t mind losing a lil sleep over it.”

a’dewah doesn’t deserve anything, really, but he’ll take what haruki gives just because he doesn’t want to be rude when he’s offering support so kindly. even if it’s exactly what he’s craving—comfort. haruki knows him too well and one day it’s going to get him killed, either from heartbreak when a’dewah screws up for the last time or from actual danger when a’dewah gets the haganes in trouble by being a public figure with a very peculiar lover and an adorable nephew that also happen to be related to another warrior of light.

“ruki, go to bed.” he curls up into his pillow, poking his head through a hole in the tangles of the blanket to breathe. he’ll just stay up until his stomach rights itself and the sickening dread-guilt sets in, something more comfortable than panic and safer than feeling content, because when he wakes up he absolutely won’t be okay no matter what.

“no, dewah, i think i won’t go to bed if you don’t too."

fuck, please don’t start this. “i—no, ruki, you can’t stay up on account of me being emotional, i’ll be—”

haruki scoffs, though more at the stifling tension and the lie than at a’dewah himself. “fine? please don’t lie to me. don’t close off again.”

“b-but… it’s not fair to you,” he croaks out, finally, throat raspy and dry. “to keep asking you to care for me when i break down. you—you’re not supposed to constantly have to listen to me cry, not when it hurts both of us because listening to someone you love in pain is horrible, horrible work.” he had experience with listening—watching over someone as they writhed in pain and knowing there was nothing he could do but watch if he didn’t want to harm them. he’d done it a thousand times before, and would do so a thousand more so long as the world needed heroes and wars. walking around amaurot besides hanami and zaya nearly tore his heart in two because no matter how afraid of them he might be they were suffering the whole time and even when he was pulled from the rift by g’raha and could heal again he couldn’t stop their pain as they all valiantly fought emet-selch. “let me just be fine, let me learn to take care of myself.”

he doesn’t want haruki to have to care for someone broken as him when the dirty work could easily be done by himself. he might be a caretaker by—not by nature, but by experience —but even the most stalwart caretakers have their limits and by nophica’s grace he does not want to be the straw that breaks haruki’s back. if haruki ever got tired of him, because everyone gets tired of a stubborn crybaby eventually no matter how much they love the person they can be, he wouldn’t know what to do. he’s too reliant, acting like a child when really he’s an adult, and it isn’t healthy for either of them to be like this.

a’dewah doesn’t want to leave but if his solar flares of emotions are hurting haruki he’d rather jump into the ocean and be extinguished forever instead.

“well, most people learn best by example. breathe,” haruki says, quiet even as the storm outside his home rages. he takes as deep a breath as he can, listening to haruki breathe with him. “can you name one person, besides me, all of balefire, and the scions, that has shown you how to care for yourself?” 

haruki leaves him in strenuous silence as he thinks, still there but waiting. he almost says my parents, but the last time he saw them was when he was eight, long since buried and he’s nearly thirty-six now—and really, did the nunh of any tribe really care for his sons past their strength, of which he had none because khebica said he’d inherited their mother’s love for the elements. mahja and tahja were too busy trying not to be a burden for him, atoh and vahno were both too young and needed to be cared for first, khebica was taught to care for herself first after what happened to her, and he was the only one castrum fluminis wanted anyhow and they nearly broke him before he was eighteen so who else? tsukiko was still too afraid of yudai, louisoix had so many others to look for first, e-sumi-yan didn’t even know—

“...i. i don’t know,” he says, and the revelation nearly shatters him. even among the people haruki had him exclude, he’d only just started letting them fuss about his wellbeing, except... “you might—you were the first. for a while, the only person i let try. you were just too—too...”

“persistent? thank you, it’s one of my strengths,” he says, a smile leaking through the crackling connection that makes a’dewah’s chest stutter in its rise and fall. “and besides, when i first saw you in that rice paddy i seriously got worried ‘cause i saw kotone almost drown there that same day. you were so much shorter, too.”

“ hey, i w-wasn’t that short then.”

“were too. anyways, you kinda proved my point. let me help, because i want to, and i’m sure you’ll be able to do it on your own soon. i want you to get better,” haruki promises, and the words a’dewah turns over in his head have a cool warmth to them, like diving into the one river in summer. something distinct, grounding. loving. “and if it means i have to share your pain, so be it. i can take a fair amount.”

great; he’s going to cry again, all because haruki loves him too damn much and he doesn’t know how to deal with it all, an ocean’s worth of devotion and promises poured into his hands and leaking through his fingers.

“i—i did warn you that this stuff is horrible, right? i don’t want you to get hurt from my issues,” a’dewah murmurs, hands grasping uselessly at his cardigan’s sleeves and fingers cramping from it all.

“yeah, and? it’s you. there’s not a lot that can keep me from helping you, save this damned soul-ghost situation. no matter what comes up, you’re stuck with me for the near future.”

a shaky breath on both sides, trying to survive the last few tremors of a’dewah’s fragile temperament. fabric rustling on haruki’s end; good, he must be tucking himself back under the covers, albeit gingerly. the guilt might eat at him later, if haruki says he didn’t sleep well, but for now the weirdly soothing thought of you’re stuck with me smooths the prickly bits in his chest back down.

“i have an idea.” haruki shifts, horn with his linkpearl brushing against his pillow. maybe he’s looking out the window, or looking out his door to check if he’d woken someone up in talking sense back into a’dewah. “we can keep the connection open ‘til morning; i’ve got aether to spare and you’ve even more than i do, right? it’ll be kinda like waking up next to each other,” haruki says soothingly, even though it won’t be like he says because a’dewah won’t be able to turn over and laugh at haruki’s bedhead, won’t be able to lazily pull haruki’s arm over his shoulders and feel safe. “we’ve got similar sleep schedules. it shouldn’t be too hard compared to saving the world.”

“i—i know what you mean, but…” what if when i wake up hearing your voice but not seeing you beside me just makes it worse, he would say if he had the guts, but all of those had jumped out the window with common sense when he made this damned call.

and yet haruki just knows him too well and answers anyways. “hey, it’ll be fine. think of it this way; part of me is always thinking about you, even if i don’t realize it, so just think of me,” haruki says, and a’dewah already knows where he’s going with this but isn’t that a thing they all reserve for mune, who is starting to grow up faster than they can keep up with? “and i’ll be there with you, always, because i trust you with my heart—and if that isn’t enough, i’m still just a call away, right?”

“r-right,” a’dewah whispers back, eyes brimming this time not with pained tears but happy ones, not even knowing how much he needed that little bit of permission until now. his heart is finally settling, after three or four nights of restless searching, restless wanting , simmering quietly in its proper place rather than leaving him hollow and melting. “and... i trust you with mine.”

neither of them have to say it, but even with the rain pouring down by haruki’s window and the winds outside a’dewah’s the silence coming over the linkpearl finally feels calm.

haruki’s next yawn is loud, and a’dewah can hear the tension melt from his voice like frost in spring and silver dew from plants in summer. “d’you think you can sleep now? or… should i serenade—”

his voice is utterly wrecked, but he somehow manages to yowl, “i can sleep fine!”

haruki’s bubbling laughter rises with the thunder outside his house, filling a’dewah with liquid gold warmth—not molten, but soothing, comforting, home. no longer threatening to melt him from the inside out but strengthening, and he can feel himself blushing at the thought of warm hugs just like this even though it’s not all that much, in the grand scheme of things.

when both of them manage to calm down—haruki from his ever bubbling joy and a’dewah from his constant state of embarrassment when it comes to haruki—it’s not too much for a’dewah to rub his eyes one last time and simmer in the dark warmth sitting further inside his chest, no longer threatening to overtake him for now. not bright, like his magic and the light and the harsh sun. dark, like the sunless sea and the stars and shooting stars overlapping, even if two of those things aren’t quite dark.

for someone proficient in white magic, it feels safer in the dark than the light.

“i miss you,” he whispers even though he has a feeling haruki found a way to laugh himself to sleep—oh, no, his breath hitches when a’dewah hiccups in an ugly croak, gods why does haruki find him attractive despite all of this—thinking of teals and oranges and fireflies that light up the white scales lining haruki’s jawline. “and i think i always will, a little bit. i want to be yours forever.”

there, he’s said it; i want. the simmering, unknown dark cools off, no longer warbling his voice, and his eyes start to feel heavy as adrenaline bubbles away.

“i could say the same, dewah,” haruki whispers back, words fraying as a’dewah’s past few days of running catch up to him, finally. “i miss you too, but you’ll be back soon, so for now? sleep tight.”

and he does, the tinny sounds of haruki’s breathing evening out lulling him to his dreams where he isn’t so far away from home.

[b-rainlet]

Ok but hear me lunya but like when they were kids and no alluther.what would your head canons be for young teen lunya?

I had this in my drafts for a while so I'm just gonna put out what I wrote all those weeks ago! I wanted to make this a little more detailed but maybe I'll switch to adult Lunya for another ask (I have some Lunya related asks in my inbox that I am dying to answer).

I suppose that it would be similar to baby Alluther! Only that Vanya would still very much be isolated from the others and all of their interactions are secret and a lot more muted than Allison and Luther’s.

No obvious heart eyes at each other, no yelling for each other to hurry up and get ready for a mission. I can even see the other sibs not getting why Luther would want to hang around Vanya that much (”All she ever does is practise playing her violin, she’s so boring.”), so he’d probably exchange few words with her.

It would be more like....secret smiles aimed at each other from behind hands and over the edge of books, mumbled words (Luther taking a second to compliment her music while he’s walking past and to the training room, Vanya spending a little more time than necessary on treating Luther’s bruises).

Just little things that show that they like each other.

(Imagine Luther standing in formation with the others in front of the press and smiling and waving but his eyes keep searching for Vanya standing somewhere in the distance....and you notice the exact moment he finds her because his smile turns genuine.....)

Luther would probably indulge Vanya's fantasies of being part of the academy, the two of them meeting in the attic, laying on the ground there - not bothered by the hard floor digging into their backs, distracted by the tales they spin, tales of a Vanya with powers, fighting alongside the academy, being Luther's second in command.

"What about Diego?" - "You are way nicer than Diego."

The looks they would sneak at each other, little glances.

The two of them would take things slow, agonisingly slow.

There's no Allison there to push Luther into kissing because she read about it in a magazine, thought it would be something they needed to do "because everyone's doing it, Luther."

Just Vanya. Vanya, who doesn't talk much, where every conversation feels a little like pulling teeth.

Where every little thing she tells him is like a gift, something he treasures.

Vanya who blushes when he tries to take her hand, who doesn’t push for more, for things he doesn't know how to give, things that make him nervous.

Vanya who doesn't make fun of him for thinking they'll get married when they grow up, who just links pinkies with him and smiles.

(Luther hopes they'll have a little girl who'll look just like Vanya. He doesn't know it, but Vanya thinks they gonna have a boy who's just as kind as Luther).

The yearning of it all.....

And we still have the scene where the two of them sneak out together to have some kind of date but it’s Vanya sneaking into Luther’s room, waking him up - still very much shy and nervous but also determined enough to go through with it - and there’s nothing really prepared, they just aimlessly wander around the house and talk a little and it’s obvious they’re both nervous but they still smile at each other and maybe Luther reaches for her hand for a moment there and they share an even bigger smile and it’s nice and cute but then Reggie’s standing in front of them and Luther immediately drops Vanya’s hand and listens to their father scold him for being up at night and having fun outside of the permitted time - and with Number Seven of all people - while Vanya keeps her eyes on the floor and tries her best to hide her tears behind her hair.

And that’s how it goes. No more smiles, no more hushed words, no more sneaking out together.

Vanya moves out - Luther doesn’t.

Neither of them ever really move on.

Vanya ends up isolated by choice, surrounded by people but unable to reach out to them, as alone as she always was.

And Luther watches on as everyone leaves him, too loyal and too naive to realize he could just follow in their footsteps. Misses his chance.

Ends up on the moon, body a grotesque caricature of what he used to look like, convinced no one’s gonna love him like this. Ever.

(Funnily, just what Vanya thinks too).

Until their Father dies and everything changes again.

[b-rainlet]

You made me ship Lunya T.T but as a Allison stan this kind made me ship her with Diego... headcanon about the neglected couples? :O

Tbh, there are a lot of ship possibilities that could be seen as neglected couples since there are 7 main people who could be thrust into about 21 ship dynamics - not counting poly ships and not counting ships that aren’t sibling ships - like Klave or Vanya/Helen or even still incest stuff like Gracexthe sibs.

So you see, endless possibilities but there are only about 4 ships who are really popular? Klave, Kliego, Fiveya...maybe Horrance? And even then, most Horrance or Fiveya shippers still see their ship as a rarepair because compared to Klave or Kliego it more or less is.

Which may have to do with the fact that if you’re an anti but wanna ship something you have pretty limited options, so Klave it is.

So you probably want some Allison/Diego hcs but I’m gonna do a little more because Allison is less popular in general so her ships are not that often talked about.

I’ll leave out Alluther because I did some OTP asks about them, but y’all know I ship them because it’s the sweet story of childhood sweethearts meeting again and falling in love all over again and it’s just...*sighs dreamily* lots of possibilities.

Allison/Diego: A fun ship! At first you’d probably say: ‘We have a pretty much functional adult with a child and a guy who eats raw eggs to seem edgy’ so it’s easy to fall into a Hermione/Ron relationship interpretation where you have a dumbass and someone done with their shit - and I can see it being like that occasionally but not always!

When I think about them I mostly think about teasing. They totally do some competitive shit just because they wanna best each other but where that same dynamic could quickly turn into arguments for Luego I can see it staying mostly light-hearted with Allison/Diego.

(Quick question, do they have a ship name? Asking for tagging purposes).

And Allison would take none of Diego’s shit. Oh, Diego has one of his mood swings and tries to be an emo boy and pull that ‘I don’t need anyone shit’? Boy, Allison is a single mother who’s been through a divorce already, she doesn’t have time for your angst.

Lmao, Allison being like: “We’ll sit down and talk about our feelings now” after a fight and Diego complains the whole time but sits down like a good boy.

Also, Allison would do the vigilante thing from time to time because she may pretend to be an adult and above that kinda stuff but it’s fun and they definitely argue over who took out more people.

Give me that power couple pls.

Allison/Klaus: One of my favourite ships! Can be real whole-hearted or angsty depending on the angle you take.

Like, Allison who keeps busting Klaus out of prison with her status and her rumours and who pays for his rehab stay every single time, at first still telling him that she’s gonna fix him with that Hollywood ‘You can do it’ attitude - slowly getting more and more annoyed by her no-good brother, feeling like a babysitter - maybe even refusing to keep indulging his brother, to keep giving him money he’s only gonna use on drugs anyway.

And Klaus who despises Allison’s glamour lifestyle, her polished image and her nuclear family - we could even throw some biphobia in there because Klaus remembers their talks about how pretty girls are but Allison pretends that never happened because it wouldn’t do her career much good. (Just like being seen with her junkie brother, “isn’t that why we can’t meet anywhere that isn’t a back alley? Why you can’t talk to me without sunglasses and a hat? Why you keep your voice down even when I scream at you?”)

Plus, some added angst: Patrick telling Allison to just drop her brother already, he’s just gonna self-destruct and take her with him and that creates tension between the two of them, could even be one of the many reasons for their divorce.

And just like that, Allison loses all of it. And Klaus is there with a cheap bottle of Tequila, already high and grinning at her: “Welcome at the bottom, sister dearest!”

*insert the 30k story about the two of them slowly learning to understand each other and finally being able to heal - with the help from the other but also because they wanna change for themselves. I vote for added bed sharing and sleepovers and them doing each other’s nails but also them fucking once and not talking about it because they were both really hurt and not really thinking when it happened but it staying in the back of their minds until they realize that they could actually work together*

This got angstier than it was supposed to be, sorry! I love them, I swear!

Allison/Five: Probably the least popular one out of all the Allison ships!

I have to admit that I don’t think about Five ships much? Which probably has to do with the whole child body thing but I’m not opposed to ships involving them! (Especially when they’re enby, y’all know my brand).

Allison/Five would be that kinda snob couple who knows they are superior to you and they’re not above showing you. Lots of quibs, lots of sarcasm.

But also probably one of the more mature ones? I can see Allison being unsure at first because Five is- no, looks like a kid and who knows when that will get fixed? And maybe it’s because she’s a Mum but sometimes she just treats them like a child and Five hates it.

(Five probably has to do a lot of courting before Allison considers a relationship. Which is bullshit. They both know there’s tension there, why the fuck is Allison drawing back from that? Just because Five’s trapped in this body? Does Allison think they want that?)

Five aggressively flirting while Allison to herself is like: ‘Hoe, don’t do it.’ but eventually giving in.

And of course, depending on your take of Five’s body, things are gonna be weird. Like, a popular hc is to have Five in a 20ish body but even then, just imagine the headlines.

Allison Hargreeves, world star, dating a guy 10 years younger!!! Is she getting over her divorce with a boy toy?

(Not to mention the pseudo-incest part).

They’d get a lot of shit I’d say.

And Five would be furious about that. How dare they imply that their relationship with Allison is just some fling? They’ll show them. So they make a game out of proving the paparazzi wrong. Makes it their mission to treat Allison as right as possible.

(Also I have feelings about the whole Five - Claire - Allison thing. I mean, just Five mentioning wanting to meet Claire? Knowing her name? I am soft).

And I know I am rambling a little but whether you think Patrick was/is a nice guy or not (I personally think he is), I can see Allison being so obsessed with seeming flawless and having the picture perfect family - as opposed to her own family - that she felt like she could never really be herself? Like she had to hide a lot of her more ‘ugly’ sides to be desirable.

And Five doesn’t care about that shit. Five also doesn’t care about courtesy. Five will jump into her room at the beginning of their relationship, watch her scramble around to try and change into something nicer than her pajamas and apologize for her messy hair and her pimples- “I just woke up, I didn’t have time to put on my make up, can’t you come back later Five?”

And Five’s like: “You look like someone who just woke up. Your hair is sweaty and you have a pretty big pimple on your nose. Also, your morning breath is horrible. Can we cuddle now?”

(Five is the first partner Allison burps in front of. It’s pretty freeing).

Five on the other hand has someone they can be insecure in front of. Where they don’t have to pretend they know all the answers. Be dismissive with. (They’re trying to let all of their siblings in but it’s a process, okay?)

I’m sorry, I’ll stop now but I gave myself feelings.

Allison/Ben: This feels like an easier couple. Like, more normal, lmao. Just a couple of adopted sibs falling in love the old-fashioned way - after one of them gets brought back to live and they survive a near apocalypse their sister caused.

I like to spin some tale of being in love as kids (like with Alluther) but for me the two of them really work better as just being friends as kids and then once Ben comes back, Allison realizes how much she missed him and she’s like “What is this???? Am I....crushing on him??” (imagine the Beauty and the Beast song where they realise they like each other while playing in the snow).

Just...some good and nice slowburn. Maybe some added angst with Ben thinking Allison is confusing her relieve of him being alive with being in love or believes she’s looking for a rebound after her divorce.

Or maybe he believes he’s just touch-starved and that’s why he clings to Allison?

(Imagine the two of them chilling at the mansion together, just picking up where they left off, pretending to still be kids. Allison all excitedly showing Ben what he’s missed during all those years and what he only gets to experience now - let’s be honest this mostly boils down to Allison making him eat a bunch of stuff, not even waiting until he takes a bite himself but just putting it in his mouth because she wants to see whether he likes it).

(I hc that Allison can’t cook for shit but Ben has no real frame of reference unless you count blurry memories of what food used to taste like so it’s heaven to him and Allison is giddy).

They’re just cute, okay?

Allison/Vanya: ANGST. GAY ANGST. I mean, the guilt over what happened, Allison feeling like it’s her fault and treating Vanya all nice but Vanya stilll flinches everytime she sees the angry red scar across Allison’s throat. Plus, if Allison still can’t speak and will never speak again and Vanya tries her hardest to learn ASL with her so she doesn’t have to write down everything all the time.

Young Allison/Vanya with Vanya realising she’s queer and sneaking glances at Allison and immediately feeling guilty because she shouldn’t be looking, it’s wrong and dirty and Allison will hate her and-

Whereas she is completely missing the way Allison is looking back.

Also this ship can easily turn toxic with either of them - or both - getting overbearing after all that happened. And tbh, that’s just as exciting to write/think about.

That’s all I got for now but you’re welcome to talk more Allison/Allison ships with me!

[windupnamazu]

i'm KICKING THE DOOR OPEN TO ASK YOU 11, 17, 25, 27, 33, 36, 44! i desire to feed on the luha content

[DOMESTICITY QUESTIONS - accepting!] [answered] 

11. sleeping habits

YELLS WE HAD A MOM SQUAD CHAT ABOUT THIS... the stuff i came up with then still stands! 

lunya likes to sleep late and wakes up late, and while she used to pull allnighters for work shes stopped doing that as of post-shb to get raha to go to sleep. rahas even worse about his sleep schedule and basically never slept for the entire century waiting for her and even before that he was the kind of guy who burned candles studying through the whole night. theyre getting better!

theyre very cuddly sleepers and 80% of the time they wake up wrapped around each other like some very persistent koalas. also lunyas giant carbuncle likes to loaf on top of them and crush them in the middle of the night like a big aetherial weighted blanket! 

17. most trivial thing they fight over? 

during shadowbringers raha would sometimes refer to lunya as a dwarf and she was always about two ilms from cracking the mysterious exarchs knee open

post-shb its stuff like "g’raha tia if you so much as breathe in the direction of the bathbombs heart gifted me i will yank your ears" and "lunya, bananas will not actually kill you"  

25. who does the groceries? 

lunya! she likes to make the big intricate meals for not just them but their friends so she usually goes ham in the markets and also out in the field gathering fresh ingredients. raha likes to cook but usually hes relegated to snacks and lunchbox things so he doesnt need to cart a million groceries up to some magical freezer in the tower.

27. who leaves their stuff lying everywhere? 

raha. youve seen the umbilicus. lunyas not the neatest person either, but she knows where everything goes and where everything is. organized chaos. raha tosses a book down for two seconds and loses it. he may not have a lot in terms of personal artifacts these days but what he does have is scattered across the crystal tower in varying states of remembrance.

33. how do they refer to the other in public? how do other people refer to the other? (i.e. “my partner”, “ask your father”, "dad and papa", "how’s your wife?“, etc) 

theyre soon going to be...her husband and his wife >:3c but to civilians, its always "the exarch" and "the warrior of darkness," and to each others face in public it becomes "lord exarch" and "lady lunya"!! the scions dont ever stop calling raha exarch i think, but lunya’s always been lunya to them.

to their kids theyre papa and mama and when the kids are in trouble it becomes your mother/your father sdnnsfdsndf. something else of interest is that lunyas family all call raha raha right off the bat and will address him as so while talking to lunya. no tribe letters in their house, and they get the feeling his tribe didnt treat him well anyway so its their loss! lunya loves him, so hes already part of their family.

36. typical date night? out or at home?

[answered here!] 

44. do they feel they see each other enough, or do they have activities that take too much of their time? 

god they dont see each other enough. theyre both adults and have been separated for long enough that they can certainly function on their own, but it sucks when warrior duties drag lunya back to the source :C they just make extra care to cherish what time they get together since this is their impossible second chance :’3c