#you think you don't need a reminder but then you actually do

[always-just-red]

Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌

The Night Before Christmas

L&DS Boys X Reader

(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)

Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!

Genre: Fluff + humour

Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀

| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Right! Let’s try this again.”

You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.

Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.

Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.

Try not to think about it.

You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.

The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.

New season, new start.

“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”

Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”

“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.

“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 

“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”

“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.

The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”

There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”

Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”

“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”

He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”

None of your guests look perturbed by this.

“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”

Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”

“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.

“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”

The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”

“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”

“Second rule!” you chime.  

“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”

Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.

You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”

Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.

This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.

Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.

What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?

That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”

You’re excited about the last rule.

Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”

Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.

You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:

No smirking, sass, or general smugness.

A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”

You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.

“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.

“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.

You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”

There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”

“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.

“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”

You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.

Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.

So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.

You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.

…

“What are you doing?”

Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.

“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”

“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”

“Am not.”

He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.

“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.

“No.”

“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.

Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.

To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.

“Absolutely not!”

Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.

You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.

“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”

Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.

“Give me the rest of it,” you command.

“Hmm?”

“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”

Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.

“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.

Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.

Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.

It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.

Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.

…

Rafayel isn’t looking too good.

Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.

You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.

“Would you like to go next?”

Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.

Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.

“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.

It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.

“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.

“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”

Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”

He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?

“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”

“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.

Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”

“As did I,” Zayne adds.

Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”

“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”

He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”

For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.

“That’s…” Zayne begins.

“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”

Sylus shrugs again.

“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”

“He lost it.”

“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  

He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”

“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.

Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.

“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.

You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”

Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”

“Show me!” you insist.

The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.

You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.

The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.

Everyone is silent.

“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.

You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.

But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”

“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”

“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.

“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”

“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.

“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.

Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.

That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.

…

“I can’t believe you made you.”

It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.

“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.

“Is this really how you see yourself?”

Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”

“Except the other guys saw it—”

“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.

You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”

“Make me.”

You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”

He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.

“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”

Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”

His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.

“Inappropriate.”

The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.

“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”

“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.

Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”

He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.

“What did I miss?”

It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.

“Nothing,” Sylus answers.

“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  

You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  

Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”

…

“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 

What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.

“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.

Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?

He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 

“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 

Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.

Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”

You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.

His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 

You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 

What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 

Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.

Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 

“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 

Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.

They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 

Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 

“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.

But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?

Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 

You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 

“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 

Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.

“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 

“No?”

“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 

On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 

“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 

And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.

Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.

Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 

“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 

Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 

Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)

Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 

“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 

It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 

Perfect. 

Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 

You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 

“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”

[nodutra19]

I dunno if I should even say this given I don't speak Japanese, but the change of "revolutionize the world" here really bothers me.

One of the things I like about Ikuhara is how he creates complex parallelisms, and I think the Black Rose Council is meant to parallel the Student Council, which is why they both speak of revolutionizing the world.

Another thing I like is his "boiling frog" approach. He lures you in with something seemingly nice, and then slowly but surely introduces odder and odder elements, occasionally jarring you until eventually you land yourself somewhere really bizarre. The Black Rose Saga does that very well and marks a shift in tone.

I get the impetus behind the change, but I've always interpreted the use of "revolutionize the world" as ambiguous, and in this case it's really meant to make you question what their revolution even brings. If this underhanded stranger can speak of the same thing as the "heroes," then what is it those heroes actually speak of? This disconcerting man also has a Rose Bride and seeks to usurp the powers that be...

But to what end? If his desire is the same, what does that say of the Student Council, and especially of Utena herself? They both don pink hair and off-puttingly similar Rose Brides, after all, and even similar uniforms. What do they actually want to replace these power structures with? Cuz Mikage just wants his Rose Bride to take Anthy's place and to unlock eternity for himself.

My only translation experience has been through a few songs, but changing a specific phrase like that doesn't seem right to me.

Not only that, but Mikage, and, for the viewer on a rewatch, the Student Council, give cult vibes. Mikage reduces people to their most basic and awful urges and ideas in order to turn them into weapons, and when he finally has them on the precipice, he ushers himself in and says:

You have no choice but to revolutionize the world.

Which reminds me of an actual cult.

I take this from Haruki Murakami's Underground, as translated by Alfred Birnbaum and Philip Gabriel:

Around that time I went to the Aum dojo at Setagaya. They explained my situation to me and told me right then and there how to treat it. I tried the breathing exercises they taught me, and I couldn't believe how quickly I got better. For two months after that I didn't go to the dojo very much, but then I started going regularly, doing volunteer work, folding leaflets and stuff. Soon after there was a "Secret Yoga" session where you could talk directly to the Leader [Shoko Asahara], and I asked him what I should do about my poor health. "You need to become a renunciate," he told me. It was like he saw the real me at a glance. People were amazed because he'd never said that to anyone before—so I felt I had no choice but to leave school and become a renunciate. I was 22.

(Bold emphasis mine)

Ikuhara also mentions Aum sometime in 1998, I can't remember if it was an interview or DVD commentary. Given one of his later works, the parallels are very clear.

I guess to make a more normal comparison, think of how many men complain about how "women don't allow men to express their feelings" or the "male loneliness epidemic." But you also know that most of them go back to old and harmful ways. They squirm at terms like "patriarchy" and "toxic masculinity," and when you ask them what causes these things and what they desire to replace it with, you begin to understand that these men fundamentally misunderstand the issues at hand. That doesn't invalidate their complaints, but you can't let that justifiable complaint blind you from what they truly want: to be the ones on top.

This is gonna be a really out of pocket comparison, but even P. Diddy complained about how white dominated companies are. But what did he actually do? Hearing him say that made my own skin crawl as a person of color, even though I agree with it. I just don't let that agreement blind myself from what people like him actually do and offer to the world. I've had that example on mind because of the recent F.D Signifier video on Diddy.

I think that's what the Black Rose Saga introduces to the series, and why I think changing this line doesn't make sense. I personally think it's meant to be flaccid coming from him, it's meant to be jarring just judging by Ikuhara's style (although I've only gone through RGU and MPD). If there absolutely must be a change, maybe "You have no choice but to overthrow the world around you" would work as a neater and more direct parallelism, although given "revolutionize the world" doesn't seem to be an idiom or some play on words in Japanese (other than "revolution" also meaning a cycle, as in the revolution of the moon around the Earth), I really don't see much reason for the change.

Of course, I don't speak Japanese nor do I know much about translation. And this is just my interpretation of Ikuhara.

I know this seems like a lot, but it's really bugged me. Other than that, I like this translation and adore the various corrections/creativities like "almglocken" for "cowbell."

Fansub Release + Analysis of Utena Ep 14

This is a big one!!

My fansub release posts aren't usually like this, but this episode is so jam packed with stuff I want to talk about that I had to write my translation notes as a series of essays. It's longer than usual so strap in!

First, a word on “The Mikage Seminar”

I’ve always found the translation “the Mikage Seminar” very strange. In English, a seminar is an event — a lecture. Yet “the Mikage Seminar” is discussed as though it’s not a recurring lecture, but a society or a school of therapy, or a cult (like scientology). In fact I did a bit of reading about scientology to try and find an alternative translation, and discovered that the origins of scientology, namely a set of ideas and practices called Dianetics, bears a lot of similarities to “the Mikage Seminar”. Both involve a type of therapy where one person looks into their mind and talks to an “auditor”.

The auditor coaxes the preclear to recall as much as possible. — Wikipedia

This in particular stood out to me! Mikage often says 「深く。もっと深く」 during his interviews (”Deeper. Dig deeper.”).

The Japanese word ゼミナール doesn’t actually come from the English “seminar” but the German “Seminar” (capitalised). According to Wikipedia, in Germany, and often in Japan, Seminar/ゼミナール is used to refer to a university course that includes a thesis project. So ゼミナール refers to a course of learning, rather than a talk or lecture. And it would make a lot of sense to call a system like Dianetics a “course”. Almost like a “course” of medicine — a “course” of psychological practices that you can join but never complete.

So it would make sense to translate it as “the Mikage Course”. But “course” has more meanings in English than just this, and in the context of a university this makes it sound more like a mundane teaching course. So I tried some other words: the Mikage Sessions, the Mikage Method, Mikage Psychotherapy, Mikage Therapy, the Mikage Movement. None seemed quite right. Until I remembered this post. ゼミナール is a foreign word in Japanese, why not find a foreign word for the translation? And so I settled on this:

The Mikage Seminarium, AKA The Society of the Black Rose…

Seminarium is Latin, and is where both the German and English derive seminar from. Its original meaning is “seed plot”, but it’s also just the Polish word for seminar. I really like how the Latin makes its meaning ambiguous — it kind of sounds like a location, kind of sounds like a society, and kind of sounds like a learning course. Because it is all of these things.

Anthy: では、香苗さん。失礼します。 Kanae: ね、あたしの事、お姉さんって呼んでいいのよ。もうすぐわたしはあなたの本当のお姉さんになるんだから。

A more literal translation:

Anthy: Thank you for having us, Kanae-san. Kanae: Please… you can just call me “sister”. I’m going to be your real sister soon enough anyway.

The translation I ended up going with:

Anthy: Thank you for having us, Miss Ohtori. Kanae: Please... you can just call me Kanae. We're going to be family soon. There's no need for the formalities.

Japanese honorifics strike again!

In English, sisters-in-law don’t ask to be called “sister”. That would be super weird in most scenarios, and this scene is trying to evoke a particular familiar feeling of closing a distance gap in a relationship. The audience is meant to relate. Changing how Anthy addresses Kanae was pivotal to this scene working properly.

わかりました。あなたは世界を革命するしかないでしょ。

I understand. Your only choice is to force the world to change around you.

This line is translated as “Your only choice is to revolutionise the world” by basically every other translation. The reason is clear — the Japanese is the same as when Utena pulls the sword out of Anthy, or when any of the other characters talk about “revolutionising the world”. However, in this context, I don’t like it. The nuance of the English phrase is quite different to the Japanese phrase. In English, it’s often used to describe new commercial products: “This new device will revolutionise the world!” It comes with an implied “for the better”, but has used to describe technological developments so unexciting that it can also feel hollow. When the student council talk of revolutionising the world, they sound like revolutionaries — the context makes it work. But in this context, it comes out of nowhere and doesn’t have any of that fervour, which makes it sound hollow and flaccid when it should sound sinister and manipulative.

I think a pervading throughline for all the Black Rose duelists is that they see their problems as caused by other people, with themselves being blameless. Rather than change how they approach their situation, Mikage tells them they’re in the right.

Your behaviour will set you down a path. If that path leads to your goals, well done! However, if your path does not lead to your goals, there’s only two ways you can achieve them.

The first is to change your behaviour so that it does align with your goals. The second, impossible way, is for the rest of the world to change such that your current path DOES end up leading to your goals. This second way is not possible in the real world. But it is possible in Utena.

Also I’ll just leave this here: “around you” → “revolve” → “revolution” 👀

Kanae tried to build a relationship with Anthy in a passive, non-confrontational, extremely Japanese way — the way she has been taught to behave, the “proper” way, a mechanical following of the social scripts. We don’t see a lot of their relationship, but the way she behaved and spoke of behaving towards Anthy is very very similar to the way my Japanese grandmother has behaved towards my and my brother’s partners.

It was unthinkable to her to change this pattern of behaviour. Her only choice was to change Anthy, change the rest of the world, so that her behaviour would lead to the outcomes she wants. You could describe this forceful bending of reality to be “revolutionising the world”.

この黒薔薇のある限り、私はこれから嘘の私を演じなくて住む。

As long as I have this Black Rose, I'm free from the lie I was living before.

Besides gender, growing up, and resisting change (which exist as separate themes but also all intertwine as one), another major theme present in Utena is the self and subjective reality. The self is explored within those first major three themes, but also in terms of how the self dictates reality with the Black Rose duellists.

Black Rose Kanae says that her past self was a lie.

It reminds me of all the times when I’ve been going through a personal trial and I’ve looked back on my past self and thought “How naive I was. I understand things better now.” And then after a while I realise I was wrong, and my first self was more right. And then later still, maybe I re-realise that the second self was more right! And so on! The reality of truth (or to use Kanae’s language, “lies”) is so subjective.

Who dictates knowledge production? Who decides what is true; what is valid knowledge? This is a question of sociology - and at the moment that answer is "science does, kinda". But science and academic systems are supported by capitalist structures and tainted by capitalistic incentives — needing to be published in a journal, issues of replicability, the barrier to entry into academia in the first place, etc, etc. In the future we may find our current way of organising knowledge to be archaic and primitive in the same way we look back at medieval scholars.

But what about organising self-knowledge? Knowledge where the only one who can really decide what is true is yourself. And the only one that can decide what yourself even IS is yourself. I feel like I have looked back on my old ways of conceptualising myself many times (not even counting the gender-based revelations) and thought it primitive and archaic, and NOW I truly understand who I am and how to think of myself and how my thoughts interact with my other thoughts. But I have no doubt that I’ll look back on this current self of mine and reject their way of thinking too.

After their heart is replaced by the Black Rose, the duellists themselves frame this change as a moment of self realisation, of clarity. Once the rose is inside them, they wake up from themselves, like I have countless times. Kanae says herself, “This is the true me.” Honestly, I don’t doubt it. I think that version of Kanae was her true self at that moment, given the things influencing her. Being brainwashed doesn’t make you less of a person, or less yourself. It just makes you organise your reality differently.

心を凍結させて作っただけの間に合わせのデュエリストでは、彼女は破れないな。

We won't be able to defeat her by simply freezing someone's heart and forcing them to duel.

Anya and I discussed this in depth. I originally translated 心 as “mind”, because that was the first thing that popped into my head and I thought that was the simple part of the translation. However, Anya pointed out that it didn’t make sense with the themes of self and subjective reality, and I strongly agreed, so I changed it to “heart” instead.

Anya suggested “conscious mind” instead of “heart” but I think heart is more accurate. 心 (kokoro) can mean heart or mind in Japanese (I find it interesting that those two things are portrayed as opposites in English), and that kanji is found in the word for biological heart, 心臓 (shinzou). When they say of the Black Rose "This is your new heart" they use 心臓. They also say "Your new 命 (life/lifeforce)" which I translated as soul since it sounded more hardcore and because "your new life" is a set phrase in English meaning a new chapter in your life rather than your life force. I think the idea is that they're freezing the duellists' ability to love and feel empathy, which in my opinion is necessary for them to commit to the unbelievably selfish act of revolutionising/reconstructing/bending the entire structure of the world for their own convenience.

A very special thanks to @dontbe-lasanya for being there to talk through all these themes and ideas. I'm incredibly proud of this episode's translation and I wouldn't have been able to do it without them.

If you want to see more analysis like this, let me know! And also follow this blog to see episodes of the fansub as they're released. You can find all episodes released so far here:

Rose divider taken from this post

[nightingalescall]

The Devil and Angel's Waltz

Kingdom of Ebreau:

prologue|part 1|part 2|part 3(you are here)

"Are you disfigured?"

"What?"

"Nevermind."

You stared at the maid as she walked away, stunned.

What in the...

"Something the matter, Messiah?" Marika's voice rang from across the table. You turned your gaze back and blinked.

"It's nothing, your highness." You smiled politely as you raised the teacup to your lips, eager to taste the drink. The smell wafted into your nose first before it even reached your tongue.

Jasmine tea.

You swallowed.

With honey.

You placed the cup back down on the coaster. The tea was well balanced. If not steeped for too long, Jasmine tea is quite flavourless with only its aroma to remind you of the kind of drink it was. The honey mixed in afterward added a nice subtle tone of sweetness to the otherwise bland tea.

It's good.

Under normal circumstances, you would have said it tasted great but the question the maid whispered into your ear earlier as she poured you this drink made the liquid not go down right. You'd even say it had an unusual bitter aftertaste.

"You may simply call me Marika, Messiah. You are no ordinary folk so no need for such formalities." Marika smiled as she reached for a cookie on the table. "T-that wouldn't be very polite of me, your highness." You declined her request, letting out an awkward laugh.

You glanced at Zephyr beside you. He hasn't said anything ever since you arrived at the palace. His cup of tea sat untouched on the table, growing colder by the minute. A slight smile was present on his lips as he listened but it felt different from the one you’re used to seeing.

It looked…superficial. Fake. Ingenuine.

Zephyr didn't want to be here.

That makes two of you then.

Actually, scratch that. That makes three of you.

You peaked at the silent white hair beside Marika from the corner of your eyes. This was the fourth time since the moment you two met. With the help of your veil, you managed to avoid detection by the prince whenever you snuck glances at him. You wished you didn't have to do this but Calerus' words still rang clear in your mind.

Beware the heretics.

It would be foolish of you to ignore this individual when even god himself tells you to be wary of him.

Thus, even with your whole body going into fight or flight mode, screaming at you to look away from his eyes, your mind was determined to keep tabs on him.

Xion was sitting with his legs crossed, one over the other. His hands placed neatly on his lap, occasionally patting down his silver uniform and smoothing out any creases. He kept his gaze on the table in front of him or off to the side throughout the entire conversation. His ruby eyes were distant and unfocused like he was thinking, plotting, scheming.

He was mentally elsewhere you concluded.

You looked away, not letting your gaze linger longer. You turned back towards Marika, who seems to be the only person who actually wanted to be here. She finished swallowing the bite of the cookie she had eaten before continuing. "I don't mind, Messiah. Please just call me that. If we are to rule together and protect Ebreau, putting so much importance on our statuses and titles will only obstruct our cooperation." She reasoned.

"I-I see..." You mumbled behind your cup as you took another sip of the tea to calm your nerves. Silence fell over the table. You looked up from your cup in confusion. Marika stared back at you, the same sweet smile on her face.

...?

You knitted your eyebrows together behind your veil.

What's going on...?

Xion's priecing gaze snapped towards you. Your body froze in place as he stared you down, like a predator does before pouncing on its prey. Your mind raced for words to say as the staring continued.

"The temple simply call her 'Messiah', your highness. However, if you must know, her name is (y/n)." Zephyr finally said his first words after getting here, helping you break the silence. "Ah, I see. Then, (y/n), I hope this will be a fruitful collaboration." Marika smiled.

Oh, she just wanted your name?

The realisation hit you and you breathed a sigh of relief, your hands relaxing their tight grip around your tea cup. You felt Xion's eyes also leave you as the tension that hung in the air dissipated. You internally thanked Zephyr for answering in your stead, not daring to think how long that silence would have lasted or how it would have been broken if he didn’t.

"Would you like to see the ballroom now, (y/n)?" Marika placed her cup down. "You may practice there while the servants are finishing up the preparations for tonight's ceremony. I will personally inform them if you wish." The queen offered. It would be a good idea to familiarise yourself with 'the stage' for tonight. Plus, extra practice could never hurt.

"I would like that, M-marika." You struggled to get the queen's name out your mouth. It felt wrong to call someone with such status by their first name. "Follow me then." Marika smiled and stood up, leading the way out of the room. Xion followed behind her, not bothering to toss you a glance. You and Zephyr walked at the back, side by side.

The palace's hallways were long. Not surprising there. With multiple twists and turns, up and down some stairs, the walk there seemed to stretch on forever. At least the walkways were decorated very nicely though. They provided some form of distraction from this boring excursion. The walls were painted in white with some kind of floral motive drawn on in silver near the bottom and top. Paintings of knights on horses, nobles in luxurious clothing, flowers in the wild and many more (including some abstract ones that didn't look like anything at all) hung on the wall. Some almost side by side, some few and far between. The carpet beneathe your feet was blue with golden edges as it paved the entire way to the ballroom, even the stairs had them. Plus, it looked surprisingly clean.

The servants here must work real hard.

You thought to yourself as a butler pushed open a large wooden door, allowing your little entourage to enter.

The room before you was spacious, to say the least. Just from one glance, you could tell this was the ballroom where nobles and commoners alike would gather during special occasions.

Just like your initiation tonight.

The ballroom was beautiful and extravagant even without any extra decorations. The floor was marble and it glistened. Looking down at it, you could see your reflection in it. No doubt the work of the maids mopping it on the other side of the ballroom. A small stage was placed to the side for the orchestra who will be responsible for the music of your dance tonight. Two long tables were placed opposing the stage, on the other side of the ballroom. You assumed it's for the food that will be served this evening. Several butlers were up on ladders, wiping away at the glass windows, determined to clean away any smudges.

You turned your gaze ahead of you.

A young maid was wiping down the thrones Marika and Xion would be seated on for tonight at the far end of the ballroom.

The servants here definitely work real hard.

"You may practice here for the afternoon, (y/n). I have informed the servants here to let you use the dance floor." Marika turned to you and said with a smile. Behind her, the butler who had helped open the door walked away and towards the directions of other servants, probably to inform them of the queen's order. "Thank you, your highness." You nodded your head at her before catching your error. "Marika." You corrected yourself.

Marika's smile grew even wider at that. "I will leave you to it then, (y/n). I still have matters to attend to before the ceremony starts tonight so I must excuse myself." Marika made her way back towards the door before stopping and turning back towards you one last time. "Please don't hesitant to call any of the servants if you need something. They'll be happy to serve you." The queen finally stepped out of the room.

Silence fell over your group for a moment as you stared Zephyr, Zephyr stared at you and...Xion stared at you both. To be honest, you were too scared to look at Xion but the current situation called for it so you slowly shifted your gaze to the prince.

Xion was still looking at you with those cold ruby eyes. His face blank and his body unmoving. It was unnerving how still he was. It was like he was simply observing you, waiting for the right time to make a move. But what that move is, you’re not sure.

You opened your mouth to speak but before any words came out, Xion bowed. "I will leave now too." He excused himself and within a few seconds, he was gone as well.

...

You watched as he left and as the door swung shut, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension in your body dissipating. It felt like you could finally breathe again.

"Are you alright, Lady (y/n)?" Zephyr's voice sounded beside you and you felt his hand on your back. His worried face came into view as he leaned down, his bangs falling to one side as he did so. "...That..." you started as you tried to find the right words to describe how you were feeling. The thumping of your heart, the sweat in your palms, the nauseousness and the dread. There really was only one answer.

"That was terrifying."

~✟~

What is this room for?

The thought flashed through your mind as you slipped on the ceremonial dress. The soft silky fabric rubbing against your face as you pulled it down your head and then body. Your hands patted down the bodice and skirt, smoothing out any creases and ensuring there were no folds.

You walked towards the full body mirror placed beside a bookshelf on the left side of the room. The room was nearly identical to the one you had tea with the queen and prince just now with only the arrangement of furniture slightly different and an extra mirror for some reason (maybe you're too poor to understand the taste rich people have in interior design). You stood in front of the mirror, admiring the details of the dress.

For the monumental ceremony tonight, the temple went all out with your clothes. Similar to your daily attire, the garment was in the shade of gold. The fabric metallic and shining. A clear statement of its high quality. The skirt reached down to the floor. Its hems brushing against the carpet beneathe your feet with every movement. The skirt was further accentuated with a few layers of sheer fabric in a similar colour, some longer, some shorter, creating patterns and adding volume to the skirt. Floral patterns were embroidered on parts of the fabric using gold thread and finally dusted with a small amount of glitter as a finishing touch.

The sleeves were long just as your usual clothing. The fabric was semi transparent and clung loosely to your arms. Not a bad choice considering how light and airy it was, not to mention soft. There was no collar, making it perfectly breathable and easy to move in.

You can't imagine how much money they spent to get something with such standard.

Better take care and not rip it.

You reminded yourself before slipping on the pair of black court shoes that were prepared for you.

Leather. Sturdy.

You clicked the heels of the shoes together twice. The sharp sound resounding loudly through the room.

"Alright, all done here... Time to head back." You mumbled to yourself as you folded your clothes and took them into hand. As you exited the room, you grabbed your veil on the table beside the door with your other hand and pushed the door shut using your foot once outside.

Back to the ballroom. Zephyr should be back with the new veil too.

You turned right and headed down the hallway, retracing the path the butler had shown you before to get here. The butler was kind enough to lead you to an empty room not far from the ballroom to allow you some privacy to get changed. Zephyr went to retrieve the modified veil in the meantime so it was just you for once.

With one hand, you twisted and turned the veil, trying to find the opening where your head was supposed to go. Once you do, you leaned down slightly and threw it on before securing it in place using a hair pin. You patted down the veil, especially the back side of it where you couldn't see, not wanting any of the fabric to fold or stick out.

Lowering your hand, you focused on getting back, your feet light with each step. You felt at ease, the boulder weighing on your heart there no more. Knowing that it was just going to be you and Zephyr for the rest of the morning and early afternoon, it relieved you. Just time for some last minute rehearsals and then rest. No more queens and princes-

"Messiah."

You froze in place and your blood ran cold. The tranquility beforehand vanishing into thin air and in its place, an agonising dread. Your heart pounded. Your anxiety spiked. Your muscles tensed as your mind went blank. Consumed by an all-devouring fear, you stood still in the middle of the hallway, unable to run from certain 'death'.

Footsteps thumped closer. You squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your fists, bracing yourself for what's to come.

You turned.

"Your highness?"

It was a miracle how your voice didn't crack.

Xion strode over, the same deadpan expression on his angular face. His boots clicking softly against the carpeted floor.

"I thought you left, your highness. Is there something else you have to take care of here?" You mustered all of your courage and spoke, trying to sound calm and composed but your voice still gave you away, wavering during the sentence.

Crap.

You cursed internally.

Steady thyself, lamb. This is thy chance to persuade this apostate.

Calerus' voice rumbled from deep within your mind again.

Your eyebrows twitched.

Persuade? What does that mean??

No response from the deity.

"..."

The people around you seemed to have a tendency of ignoring you. Xion, similar to Calerus, remained silent, not bothering to answer your question.

He got closer and closer until he was directly in front of you before...

Walking past.

You knitted your eyebrows in confusion before moving to turn to him.

"Your highne-"

"Don't move."

Every muscle in your body obeyed.

You stared ahead of you, frozen in place as Xion went around to your back.

His presence sent shivers down your spine as he stood behind you. Even with your back turned, you could feel him staring you down. It felt like daggers going straight into your head, making you feel numb and afraid.

You felt his breath hit your nape as your veil is gently lifted by him. It was warm, surprisingly. Considering his icy nature, you thought even his breath would be cold.

"Y-your highness, what are you doing?" You couldn't hold back the voice crack this time. In a similar fashion, your question gets ignored once more.

A light touch and all your hairs stand on end. His hands brushed against your nape as he reached for you from behind.

Was this it? Was he going to choke you? Suffocate you right here and now?

You clenched your fists and gritted your teeth, the only movement you were able to do in your frozen state. Alarms blared inside your mind, urging you to make a break for it, to run as far away as possible from the danger but something stopped you from doing so. Was it paralyzing fear? Or something more...divine?

You twitched. Sensation finally coming back to your limbs. The muscles in your legs tensed and contracted, ready to start sprinting any moment now.

You took a step forward.

And Xion put down his hands.

"..."

"..."

You took a deep breath and slowly...very slowly glanced behind you. Xion still had that deadpan look on his face as he stared at you. His ruby eyes shone like gems under the light that flooded in from the nearby window.

You tried to talk, to ask what all that was about but words fail you. Only shaky exhales come out when you open your mouth, a sign of the fear that still grasped you.

Xion looked on silently. You watched him, searching his face for any microexpression that could reveal what he was thinking or why he did what he did.

...A frown.

It was quick. Unnoticeable if you hadn't been paying attention. A small dip in the corners of his lips before it was gone and his mouth began to move.

"You’re staring, Messiah." Xion's voice snapped you out of it.

You immediately adverted your eyes as you tried to salvage the situation.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry, your highness." You bowed and said quickly. "I didn't mean to. I was just....confused! About what you just did...?" You ended your sentence in a question. Unintentional but perhaps necessary since you didn't know if he even did anything to you.

Another brief silence. However, this time, the prince seemed gracious enough to answer your question.

"Your button was undone." Xion pointed out.

You blinked.

My button....?

Then a thought occured to you and you reached behind your back. There, at the opening for your head, just below your nape, you felt a little button that you had managed to miss when you were putting on the dress.

"I saw it before you put on your veil." Xion was being extra talkative right now, having just said two sentences back to back.

"I see. How did I miss that....Thank you, your highness." You smiled in embarrassment. The tension in your shoulders dissipated as you heaved a silent sigh of relief. Glad to know he wasn't planning on hurting you or anything of the sorts. You weren't sure why he was still here in the first place despite already excusing himself but then again, you're not familiar with the palace's layout so maybe there's something at the other end of this hallway or maybe even beyond it. It was hard to say.

"If nothing else, your highness, please excuse me. I need to get back to the ballroom." You quickly bowed and stepped aside, eager to leave and get away from him.

"Please wait, Messiah."

Xion's arm appeared before you, stopping you in your tracks.

?

You glanced at him in confusion.

What now...?

Xion was quiet as he stared at you and that's when you notice something swirling in his eyes. Something that wasn't there before. It wasn't devoid of emotions like earlier. You could see...

Caution.

He seemed...cautious of you.

But that doesn't make sense. Why would he be cautious of me?

Before your thoughts could go further, the prince opened his mouth. "Why were you staring at me?" He took a step towards you.

Your eyes widen in surprise, not expecting a question, much less a confrontation from him. "S-sorry?" You stuttered in response, your mind still in denial of what he was referring to, too afraid to accept the fact that he may have noticed.

"Back when you were having tea with the Queen. I noticed you looking at me. May I know why?" His voice was low and cold. He had asked a question but you knew that that didn't mean he gave you a choice.

You swallowed nervously as you looked up at him. You tried to think of a reason to excuse your suspicious behaviour. There was no way you could tell him the literal god this kingdom worships told you to be weary of him. You weren't even sure how he found out in the first place. You made sure to be discreet about it and you wore your veil to cover your eyes from view. The chances of catching you watching him were low and yet...

"..." You opened and closed your mouth, no words finding their way up your throat.

Crap, I'm blanking.

"Messiah..." Xion muttered under his breath and suddenly, his face appeared inches away from yours. His blood red eyes seemed to pierce through your veil as he gazed directly at you.

You instinctively took a step back in fear.

Bad move.

Noticing your retreat, Xion advanced towards you, making you back up until you finally neared the wall.

You gasped as you bumped into a vase placed beside the wall. Your hand shot towards the tall vase, grabbing it and stopping it from toppling over. It was heavy, having been filled with dirt to nurture the greenery planted within it. You gripped onto it hard, trying desperately to steady the wobbling vase.

Before you could even recover from the panic of almost breaking the royal family's belonging, Xion's hand slammed the wall beside him.

Bang!

You jumped, you feet accidentally kicking the vase. The vase slipped from your hands and came crashing down to the floor.

You winced as the vase shattered into pieces, the sound akin to a jab to your eardrums as you cringed. The dirt poured out and the plant laid on the floor, its roots exposed with the shards of the broken vase around it.

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, panic rising inside you. You held back the urge to curse as you swallowed, looking at the mess you created.

"Why were you staring at me, Messiah?" Your heart nearly jumped out from your chest when Xion whispered into your ear, his hot breath uncomfortably fanning it.

"..."

whatdoidowhatdoisaynonononononoidontwanttodiepleasegodsavemesomeonesavemezephyrcalerushelpidontwanttodieiwanttogohomeletmeleavedontkillmepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

I don't want to die.

"Messiah-ilikeyoursuit." Xion raised an eyebrow at your mumbling.

"Pardon?" "I like your suit." You repeated, your gaze still cast downwards at the ground.

Xion knitted his eyebrows.

"What does that mean?" He sounded skeptical.

"..." You were quiet and Xion was about to press you again when you let out a string of sentences, bombarding him with information.

"I think it's nice. I like the design. I like the style. The colour matches you. It looks good on you. It makes you look cool. I'd like something similar for myself." You blurted out in rapid succession.

Your mind had gone into autopilot mode when the fear overwhelmed all your senses, making you spew out random nonsense. You wanted to kick yourself for saying something so dumb but to your surprise, it seemed to have worked in your favour.

"..." Xion stared at you incredulously, his mouth slightly agaped.

He suddenly backed away, his hand on the wall returning to his side as he narrowed his eyes at you. You stared back silently, your mind still recovering from the intense moment beforehand. You breathed shakily as you waited for him to make his next move.

"..."

"..."

None of you said anything.

It wasn't a hard conclusion to make that the prince of Ebreau was a man of few words. Ever since your meeting this morning, he had been quiet, silently observing and listening from the sidelines as you interacted with other people in the palace. Even when he did talk, it was only a few short sentences. He was reserved but never at a lost for words.

However, for once, he seemed speechless.

For once, you could garner something from his expression. He was thinking. So very clearly thinking. He was considering what course of action to take.

You prayed he would consider letting you off the hook.

The prince looked away briefly before meeting your eyes once more...

A small smirk spreading across his lips.

Blood drained from your face.

"You are...quite humourous, Messiah." Xion scoffed as he shook his head. "Unfortunately, this uniform was custom made for me and me only so you can't get one yourself." He explained coldly before turning away.

"I wish you a good afternoon, Messiah. I await your performance tonight." With a few short sentences, he was gone again, leaving you alone in the hallway with your thoughts and the thumping of your heart in your chest.

You watched as his silhouette got smaller and smaller down the hallway before finally disappearing. You clenched your fists by your side.

Xion...

Just what are you planning?

Another voice rang in you head alongside yours.

"Well done, lamb."

~✟~

You flopped down on the comfy bed, your legs hung over the edge as you sighed.

This was it. The ceremony was just another 2 hours or so away. The sun dipped below the horizon outside the window of the guest room, dying the evening sky orange. Your last practice session had gone well with you doing the entire dance while in full ceremonial attire.

Your hands reached up to rub your eyes before blinking multiple times in quick succession to get the exhaustion out of them. Looking through your veil put a lot of strain on your eyes. The pixelated world seen from within your veil made your eyes constantly work overtime just to ensure you could see everything around you and make correct judgements in situations. Times like these when you didn't have it on were a blessing for your eyes, like a long awaited and very overdued vacation from their job.

You turned your head towards the clothing rack beside the dresser. Your ceremonial robe hung neatly on a hanger and beside it, your new modified veil. The veil was made shorter in front, covering only until just above your lips and long in the back like usual. Golden brown tassels were sewn on at the ends of the veil, both front and back to add some weight to the fabric.

Zephyr really was a life saver. You're not sure how or where he managed to get a tailor to accept such a sudden commission but somehow he did and you're grateful he returned with a much more practical veil for dancing. It made the dance that much easier now that you weren't constantly struggling to just breathe.

You were escorted out of the ballroom at around 3 in the afternoon. The workers in the palace had to get the last bit of the decorations set up and preparations done before guests arrived so you needed to get out of there around then or else you'd risk making their job harder. It was about time you get some rest too before your big night so you complied without much thought.

And thus, you have been spending the past hour or so fretting over the ceremony tonight. This was a big deal and no matter how much preparation you've done, it just didn't feel enough.

Maybe your footwork could use some more polishing or maybe your arms needn't be so stiff or maybe you could smile a bit more or maybe-

"Ugghhhh!" You huffed out loud in frustration as your hands went to your face. This was so nerve-wrecking.

Can I just bail tonight? I'm sure Zephyr can help me come up with an excuse.

You looked towards the opened window, peeping through the gaps between your fingers. Perhaps you could jump out? The entrance gate is just across the palace garden. Wait, no. You're on the 3rd level. You'd die if you vaulted out of here.

A soft breeze blew through the window, fluttering the curtains as another idea popped into your head.

Maybe I could tie together the curtains to make a rope, do this the Hollywood way. Ah, but it won't be long enough... Oh, oh! Maybe I could use the bed sheets and carpet and-

Your grand escape plan was suddenly interrupted by a knocking on the door.

That must be the maid.

You got up from the bed. Marika had assigned a maid of hers to help with dressing you up for the ceremony tonight. Even if it was kinda redundant since you can dress yourself just fine and don't really need any make-up or hair styling (you were going to be wearing a veil so nobody would see it anyway), it wouldn't hurt to have someone do it for you while you did some final mental preparation for later.

Your hand reached for the door and pulled it open.

"Hello, Messiah."

The girl's silky voice greeted your ears as the top of her head came into view the moment you swung open the door. Her black bangs hung over her eyes and framed the side of her face, obscuring her face from your gaze.

"Hello. Please come in." You greeted back and gestured for her to come in. The maid rose to a standing position but continued to keep her head low as she stepped into the room, her hands gripping a brown bag in front of her, which you assumed to contain the make-up she'll use.

She walked towards the dressing table and placed the bag on the surface before standing aside, head still bowed as she stood in wait for you to sit down. You quickly shut the door and scurried over, taking a seat at the dressing table.

The maid reached into her bag before circling around to your back and began to comb your hair using a brush, getting all the knots out. After that, she took out a small bottle and sprayed some of the liquid inside onto her hand before rubbing it into your hair. The sweet fragrance wafted from behind you and into your nostrils.

Lavender.

You played with your fingers as you sat still, letting the maid do her work. No words were exchanged between the two of you. Out of boredom and perhaps some curiousity, you decided to start a conversation.

"What's your name by the way?" You looked at her reflection behind you in the mirror. She was looking down, focusing on your hair as she began styling it. Her hands worked diligently, twisting and tying your strands.

She paused, not expecting you to strike up a conversation.

"...I'm Erna."

She replied softly, her gaze still casted downwards.

Silence fell over you two again as the conversation ended as soon as it started.

"..."

"..."

She's so quiet.

You felt her continuing to do your hair, making no effort to carry on with the conversation. You sighed quietly as you hung your head, ultimately deciding to just keep to yourself and let her work in silence.

What's Zephyr doing right now...?

Your thought drifted to the saint as you tried to find something to ponder about. It's rare that he's not with you right now. Wherever you went, he always seemed to be by your side and ready to assist you in any way he can. In fact, it was weirder now without him around.

He will be attending tonight's ceremony too, right?

He probably will. Unless there's something he has to attend to in the background as the initiation proceeded, he'll watch...hopefully.

You really hope he does. You can't promise you'll do well during the dance. Heck, you can't even guarantee you won't collapse from the sheer stress. You needed him to save you if the worse came to pass, save you from the embarrassment and/or potential concussion.

Crap, I really don't want to do this...

You fidgeted nervously in your seat, rubbing your hands together as you suppressed the nausea bubbling inside. You took a deep breath.

In and out. In and out. In-

Your thoughts were cut short when you suddenly felt a breath hit your neck. Instinctively, you turned your head and you jumped in your seat at the foreign face in front of you.

Erna's green eyes stared into your golden ones, stoic and cold was her gaze as she breathed down your neck.

!!!

You wanted to ask what she was doing but before any words left your mouth, you saw the blood drain from Erna's face and she suddenly collapsed onto the floor, screaming hysterically.

"AAAHHHHHH! NO! NO!" Erna's voice pierced through the silence, her hands on her face, grasping at her eyes almost like trying to gauge them out.

"T-there's no way! It can't be! NO!" The girl continued to babbled on. She was shaking, her entire body convulsing beside you on the floor. You were in shock but it didn't take long before your body leapt into action on its own, jumping out of your seat and kneeling down on the floor beside the (you assumed) fear-striken girl.

"Erna, what's-I'M SORRY! I'M SO SORRY!" You reached for her shoulder, wanting to comfort her and understand what the heck was going on but before you even made contact, Erna pressed her head to the ground as she screamed out apologies. Her sobs were clear as she took pauses between her words, breathing heavily in before choking out her sentences once more. As it went on, her yelling began more and more incoherent and her words muddled until unintelligible.

"Erna...!" You tried to snap her out of it, raising your voice, hoping she would stop. However, to your dismay, it seemed to trigger her even more as her sobs quickly became desperate cries.

"I'M SORRY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! I DIDNT KNOW! I WAS MISLED! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! IM SORRY! I WAS WRONG!" The girl screamed her heart out as she continued to cry. Her nails digging into the carpet below her, causing her knuckles to turn white.

Thump, thump, thump!

Footsteps echoed from outside the doors, coming down the corridor and getting closer to your room. The commotion in here must have caught someone's attention.

You continued to try and calm Erna down from this sudden mental breakdown but to no avail. Anything you do, no matter how big or small, it always seemed to have the opposite effect of what you wanted. Erna continued to cry out, her voice becoming hoarse and raspy from the strain she put on it.

"I'M SORRY! PLEASE! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY...CALERU-What's going on in here!?" A guard bursted through the doors. His eyebrows knitted and his arms tensed, ready to strike any perpetrator on sight.

"I-I don't know! She just suddenly started screaming!" You tried to explain despite also being in shock at the situation. The guard looked at the curled up Erna on the floor before at you. You braced yourself, knowing how bad this looked. Two people in one room, the only exit and entry points being a door leading to a corridor that is guarded and a window that is 3 stories up, the logical conclusion that everyone would jump to is pretty cut and dry.

However, you didn't hear any "Hands where I can see them!" or "Back away from the girl!" or any other aggressive commands from the guard. The moment you two locked eyes, the guard froze, his eyes going wide just how like Erna's did moments ago but instead of falling down and screaming his head off, he just stood at the doorway, one hand over his mouth as he stared incredulously at you.

Oh no, what now?!?

You panicked. The intense gaze of the guard that seemed to bore into your soul paired with ear piercing screams of Erna were overloading your senses. Your heart raced inside of your chest, the sheer absurdity of the situation was making you blank once more. What should you do? What could you do?

Sweat beaded down your forehead as you contemplated what to do.

I...I...?!

Your train of thought was suddenly cut short as you were pulled onto your feet abruptly. Hands tugged at your upper arms as they hoisted you up, even making you stumble in the process from the sheer speed and force. Before you even recovered, you felt a warmth embrace you as the hands wrapped around your body. One of the hands even pressing your head against the soft fabric of its owner's clothes.

"Are you alright, Lady (y/n)?"

!

You craned your head up as you heard the all too familiar voice. The concerned face of the kingdom's beloved saint stared down at you, his eyebrows knitted gently and his lips turned downwards into a small frown as he held you close.

Saved!

You cheered internally as you buried your head into Zephyr's chest. Your hands shakily reached up and wrapped around him, returning the embrace as your fingers gripped onto the back of his robes for solace. The scent of Zephyr's hair wafted into your nostrils, calming your mind and slowing your pounding heart.

"Sir, please take this maid to get help. I'll stay with the Messiah and help her get ready." Zephyr said to what you assumed to be the guard at the door.

"I..y-yes, of course, Saint Zephyr." Footsteps came into the room and you heard some shuffling before shortly after, the footsteps led out again. Erna's crying still rang clear in your ears but they grew softer and softer as the the sound of soles clacking against the ground got further and further away before finally...

Silence.

"..."

Zephyr sighed.

You felt his hand gently caressing your head as he whispered.

"Let's get you ready, Lady (y/n)."

You nodded slowly against his chest.

You felt safe.

Zephyr was here.

There was nothing to be afraid anymore.

~✟~

The chatter of hundreds of guests came from within the ballroom, their voices muffled by the closed wooden door before you as you stood in wait for your time to enter. Beyond the closed doors, you could hear the clinking of champagne glasses, the sound of joyous laughter and the beautiful pieces of music performed by the orchestra the palace had hired. It was lively inside with every guest present eagerly awaiting the main attraction of this evening's ball.

You took a deep breath and exhaled.

The time was nigh.

You cracked your neck and rolled your shoulders, getting the tension out and helping you relax before your big performance. This was no time for stiff bones after all. As if on cue, you heard Queen Marika's voice boomed from beyond the door and you immediately straightened your back.

"Welcome, children of Ebreau. It is a wonderful night this evening for we shall be witnessing a monumental moment in our kingdom's long history..." The Queen gave her speech but you toned it out midway through (Sorry, Marika.). You did one final recall as you reconfirmed all of your dance steps and positions for each of them.

This is it. This is it.

You felt like you were gonna pass out with all the blood rushing to your head from the anxiety of everything but you couldn't deny you felt a tinge of...happiness and pride. With this ceremony, you would be officially heralded as Ebreau's Messiah and be one of the people who would lead it. You're not sure if this strong feeling of love for this nation that you didn't even originate from, heck, this nation that you didn't even want to live in in the first place, was false or not but you knew for a fact that you wanted to help it. Maybe you were being brainwashed by Calerus to love Ebreau so you'll sacrifice yourself for it or maybe you've just developed a saviour complex after being treated as such, you're not entirely sure. You just know that you want to make Ebreau better. You want to make the lives of the folks here better. You want to help Zephyr. Especially after all he's done for you. He gave you his all and you will do the same,

You must do the same.

"Do not let thyself be shackled by deeds of the past, lamb."

!

No matter how many times this has happened, you don't think you could ever get used to Calerus suddenly speaking to you out of nowhere.

"Intentions determine the nature of a deed, not the action itself."

You knitted your eyebrows.

Where did that come from?

You weren't not sure why Calerus decided to randomly give you a life lesson before your initiation. You wanted to ask for his reasoning but you held back. Based on past experiences, you know he won't reply anyway so you just kept it in mind for now. You can ponder about it later.

"...now, let us celebrate the coming of our prophesied Messiah!"

"That was your cue, Messiah." A pair of hands suddenly fell on your shoulders as Marika concluded her speech. You jolted in surprise as you turned your head back and were met face to face with red eyes.

Xion?!

The prince towered over you as he stared down intensely at you, seemingly searching for your eyes behind the cover of your veil. His breath fanned your face as he continued.

"Good luck."

Xion stepped back, leaving you confused in place. Why was he here? Shouldn't he also be in the ballroom right now? And why was he...

Smiling?

A chill went down your spine at the sight of Xion's lips curling ever so slightly upwards.

You had so many question you wanted to ask but in a similar fashion, they went unvoiced and unheard for the moment you opened your mouth, the doors to the ballroom creaked open and...

A hand pushed you in from behind.

~✟~

You stood in front of Marika. She was seated in her throne beside the king's which was left unoccupied. She smiled early at you as she nodded, acknowledging your presence.

"..."

You reminded quiet. Talking wasn't part of your initiation procedure. The walk to the thrones from the ballroom's entrance was a long one, made longer by the scrutinising gaze and hushed whispers of judgement from the attending guests. From the way their gaze would flicker back and forth from you and how they tried to hide their mouth when they spoke, it wasn't hard to surmise what they were doing.

You tried to ignore them.

Just do your part.

You bowed your head and curtsied slowly, paying your respects ot the queen. Picking up the sides of your dress and bending your knees, you held that position as you waited for the music yo start and for your cue to begin your performance.

Here goes nothing.

The first notes of the piece. Slow and melancholy, the piano sounded out.

You rose from your curtsy, unhurried and measured. Your head remained bowed, looking down at the ground before tilting it slowly to the side and then back up, facing forward once more.

Violins. Questly weaving themselves into the melody, accompanying the lone piano.

You lifted your right arm to your chest before turning to face the guests, stretching out your lifted arm as you did so, letting it lead your movements.

You returned your arm back to to its place before again, you bent your knees and curtsied in the direction of the guests.

The duet of the piano and violins softly faded out as they held the last note of the bar.

You rose from your curtsy one last time, counting the resting beats in your heart.

...6...7...8.

8 resting beats and then you jumped into action. Literally.

You hopped in place before doing a chassé forward and into first arabesque. Closing your feet back together, you followed the tune of the flutes as it carried you through your pas de valse, your eyes following the movement of your hands just as Zephyr had instructed you during practice.

The harmony of the music accompanied you as you glided across the floor, spinning with control and grace. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears and blood rushed to your face, both from the dancing and nervousness. You tried your best to stay calm as you performed an assemblé before slowly rising from the plié.

The music swelled as it slowly began to reach its climax.

Just a little more...

Another spin before you swung your arms up from your sides to beside your head as you lifted your gaze up towards the ceiling. The crystal chandelier dazzled brightly in the air almost as if it was a star in the night sky. If you were outside right now, you would be looking at the sky, perhaps even into the eyes of The Prosperous Lord himself. Maybe that was the point of this move. To lock eyes with the god of this kingdom and swear eternal servitude to him. Who truly knows?

A slight slow in the music and you dropped into a deep curtsy, arms resting at your sides as your head bowed in unspoken submission. The last note rang, low and long as tension permeated through the ballroom.

"..."

You held your breath as you stayed in your position.

Did...I mess up?

You swallowed nervously as the silence in the room nearly deafened you.

Then, a clap came from behind you. Followed by another to your side and among the audience. Slowly, more guests followed along and it wasn't long before the ballroom erupted into a thunderous applause.

You physically felt all the tension leave your body as you breathed a sigh of relief before standing back up.

I did it...it's done. It's finally done!

You couldn't help the smile that made it's way onto your face. All of your hardwork paid off! It didn't go to waste! You...you did it!

You were still high on the glory when Marika interrupted your celebration. "That was a beautiful performance, Messiah." She smiled at you as you turned to face her. "Thank you for your hardwork and here's to a fruitful collaboration in the futur-"

You were suddenly pulled onto the ground.

"Ahh!!" You screamed as you collided with the floor-

Wait, no.

Someone's chest.

You slid across the floor with the person beneathe you, shielding you from impact. Gasps and shouts of terror came from the audience around you as the two of you finally came to a stop on the floor.

You looked back at your original position. An arrow was lodged into the ground. Its tip buried into the now broken floor.

What on earth...?

You furrowed your eyebrows as confusion washed over you.

Realisation came late but only because you refused to acknowleged the truth.

Someone wanted to assassinate you.

Your breath hitched in your throat. If this person didn't pull you aside...

That might have been it for you.

The person beneathe you shifted, slowly sitting up as they continue to hold you close.

You finally turned your gaze back to your saviour, wanting to thank them. However, the words got caught in your throat as you locked eyes with them and realised who it was.

Ocril?!

The person who saved you just now....was your ex-boss?????

He's the captain of the Ordo and likely the one who gave the green light to allow you to work as the Ordo's errand girl. The few years you've been there, you've rarely ever seen him, let allow talk to him. He was at the pinnacle of the hierarchy while you were at rock bottom. There were never any situations where your paths would have crossed.

Though from what you heard from the other guards, he's a rather quiet person, distant even but not cold. He'll never refuse to help someone in need even if he may seem a bit apathetic.

This information has always been word of mouth so you were never able to confirm nor deny it but looking at the black haired man in front of you now, you saw the protectiveness behind his blue eyes as he hid you behind his back.

His gaze narrowed as he glared at a slightly opened window high on the wall, a glint of rage swirling in his eyes.

"Are you alright, Messiah?"

Ocril asked, eyes still glued to the high window.

"I-yes. T-thank you for saving me." You replied, still flustered and shocked by the current situation.

The captain glanced back at you briefly before standing up, his hand on the hilt of his sword fastened to his side.

"Guards!" Queen Marika shouted, standing up from her throne before rushing over to you. At the same time, another familiar voice called for you from behind.

"Lady (y/n)!" You felt Zephyr's arms wrapped around you as he hugged you tightly. "Are you alright?" Zephyr asked frantically. He seemed out of breath, probably from running over due to the commotion started.

"I'm okay." You nodded, reassuring Zephyr as you pushed yourself back onto your feet. Queen Marika arrived too as she helped you up despite your protests.

You felt Ocril's gaze on you the whole time, glancing back at you silently. If he had something to say to you, he never did.

Your disorientation was short-lived as your attention was immediately drawn back by the terrified screams of the guests in the ballroom. To your horror, masked figures began jumping down from the windows, weapons in hand. Some held bows, others held daggers as they landed on the floor of the ballroom.

Chaos ensued immediately.

The guests made mad dashes towards the doors, all wanting to escape before things got bloody or worse, before their lives were targeted. Royal guards were quick to crowd around you and your little group, swords drawn and ready to defend three of the most important figures in Ebreau.

The intruders began their attack. The archers stayed at the back as they aimed to thin out the defense and divert the focus of the surrounding guards, hoping to give an opening to their allies who held daggers to go in for the kill.

Cling!

Ocril deflected an arrow coming towards him with his sword. More royal guards came into the ballroom as they joined in to fend off the attackers. Metal clashed together as the guards around you swung at the enclosing figures but was blocked by the attackers' own weapons. The sharp sound pierced your eardrums, making your ears ring uncomfortably.

Zephyr held you close. His hand grasping yours in a death grip, afraid you'll get separated from him. Queen Marika gritted her teeth and knitted her eyebrows beside you. Her usually soft features hardening as she watched the onslaughts, mind racing with how to resolve this situation.

The guests continued to flee, their shoes clanking loudly against the floor as they tried to escape. However, they were not spared the fury of the intruders. Some of the hooded figures went after them, dragging them back into the ballroom and hurting them as they refused cooperation. Royal guards came to the rescue but not before the attackers had already injured them, splattering their blood on the marble floor.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you held back a gag, terrified by the sight.

"Lady (y/n)!"

Zephyr yanked you back by the hand, just in time as a knife swung at you but missed by an inch. Your eyes widened as you narrowly escaped potential death (or potential disfigurement).

You didn't even get the chance to thank Zephyr for saving you when he, himself came under attack. One of the hooded figures had broken through the guards' defense and swung their dagger at Zephyr. Fast on his feet, Zephyr dodged the attack, sidestepping the figure before swiftly kicking them in the back of their knees, causing them to fall and drop their dagger. He kicked the dagger away before the figure had a chance to pick it back up.

!!

You couldn't help but be amazed. You didn't know Zephyr had moves like that.

The guards' defenses were strong but not impenetrable. Openings for a breakthrough were small and rare but the attackers took every opportunity. With enough tries, 2 of them managed to breach the line of guards and came towards you and Queen Marika.

They swung as you both dodged, though each with varying degree of ease. In a flash, Queen Marika's hand shot towards one of assailant's wrist, grabbing on tightly and stopping them from attacking before promptly disarming them with her other hand.

!!!

Did everyone here know self defense except for you?!??!

Another attacker broke through the defense and went for Zephyr. Left to your own devices, you raised your arms in front of you out of pure instinct as you desperately tried to protect yourself.

The hooded figure was relentless in their attack, swinging and slashing at you nonstop, leaving you with no choice but to keep backing away.

You felt something pierce the skin on your forearm before a sharp stinging pain began to spread from there.

You hissed in pain as your held your forearm, feeling warm blood oozing out of the cut and staining your sleeve. While you were distracted by the pain, the assailant took advantage of the moment and swung down at you.

You were running high on adrenaline, your instincts to survive going into overdrive mode as you grabbed their hand without even thinking, hoping to stop them from hurting you. Good news, it worked. Bad news, they retracted their hand before swinging again immediately and this time, you didn't have the chance to block.

Your attacker slashed upwards at your face. You tried to pull your head back from the blade but before you even knew what was happening, your veil had been slashed apart from the bottom near your lips up to your left eyebrow.

"Ah!"

You cried out in pain as your hands went to your face, feeling the same warmth and wetness from earlier dripping down your cheek and staining your fingers.

Blood.

You weren't sure where the wound was. Was it just around your eye or was your left eye now permanently messed up. You didn't know. The pain was agonising as you groaned and began to tear up from it.

This was messed up. Why was this happening?

What have you ever done to them to deserve this kind of treatment?

Who even were these people?

Why you?

Why the guests?

Why did they hurt everyone?

The figure raised their dagger high, aiming the point at your head.

"DIE!"

They plunged the dagger down to deal the final blow.

"!!!"

The dagger stopped in midair as the attacker froze.

You glared at the figure through the gaps between your fingers, teeth gritted and eyebrows knitted. Your blood dripped from your hand as you slowly staggered towards them.

You weren't thinking clearly. Your rationality having completely been thrown out the window as your emotions took over. A lump formed in your throat as you stifled the urge to scream and lash out. Your hands were shaking but not from fear.

You shook from pure, unadulterated rage.

These uninvited intruders dared to barge in and ruin your initiation that you prepared months for before proceeding to attack anyone and everyone on sight, not even sparing the innocent guests.

Perhaps if it had been just you who was targeted, you wouldn't have been so furious.

Perhaps you would have understood where they were coming from if no one else was hurted.

Perhaps you-

No.

Perhaps these people don't deserve your mercy.

Whatever grudge they had with you, however deep their hatred for you ran, it was no accuse to come for your neck. It was no accuse to jump the peace talks and resort to violence. It was no accuse to hurt others, innocent or not.

There was no accuse.

You raised your hand, curling your fingers into a fist.

I will cleanse this nation of its filth until only the beautiful remains. And until the garden of Eden appears once more, I will not stop, for the foundation of this paradise...

You swung your fist.

"Will be the blood of your kind."

You punched the figure in the face.

"Ack!"

You heard the figure gasped before falling to the ground.

"..."

Your senses came back to you as the rush of adrenaline passed. You backed away quickly, putting as much distance between you two as fast as you can before they can recover and attack again.

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as you saw the figure pushed themselves onto their knees, one hand holding their face.

Suddenly, an arm appeared before you. You looked up and saw...Ocril. He shielded you behind him as he watched the figure scrambling on the ground in front of you, sword at the ready to defend you in his other hand should the figure attack again.

However, that seemed unnecessary.

The figure pressed their head to the ground as they started screaming.

"FORGIVE ME! I'M SORRY! PLEASE HAVE MERCY! HAVE MERCY!"

Everyone stopped and looked at the figure on the ground, including the other intruders. The figure continued to scream and you could hear the start of a nervous breakdown in their voice.

"I DIDNT KNOW! I WAS FOOLISH! FORGIVE ME! FORGIVE ME! MY LORD, PLEASE HAVE MERCY!"

Everyone stared on dumbfounded. The other intruders being especially confused by their ally's behaviour.

Another one of the hooded figures broke through the defenses of the guards and came to their ally's side.

You couldn't hear what they whispered to the other but you doubt they said much as they were immediately pushed to the ground by their ally.

The figure continued screaming and this time, you could tell they were crying.

"CALERUS, WE'RE SORRY FOR DOUBTING YOUR WILL! HAVE MERCY ON US! I BEG OF YOU! WE'RE SORRY!! HAVE MERCY!"

The figure's companion looked at them quizzically.

The stalemate between the guards and intruders was quickly broken soon after when a group of guards tackled some distracted figures and pinned them to the ground. The fight resumed but this time, the intruders seemed to be backing off.

The two figures in front of you scrambled to their feet(well, more like one of them dragged the other onto their feet) as they tried to fight their way out this time around. Ocril gave chase, leaving you in your place after a brief glance back at you to make sure you're alright.

Immediately after Ocril left, Zephyr rushed back to your side.

"(Y/N)!"

He hugged you tightly before noticing the blood on your face and gasping in horror.

"You're hurt! And what happened to your veil?!" Zephyr asked frantically as he held your face in his hands. He wiped some of the blood off your face with his fingers as he began to apologise profusely, "I'm sorry i didn't protect you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

As cold as this may seem, you couldn't help but wonder what was up with people apologising over and over again to you today. Zephyr was already the third one within the last 24 hours.

Looking up at him, you noticed tears beginning to form in his eyes. In a daze, you reached up and wiped his tears away with your sleeve. "You tried your best. I understand, Zephyr." you mumbled softly to him.

That seemed to have the opposite effect on Zephyr as more tears welled up in his eyes. He pulled you close and clung to you tightly, wrapping his arms around you as he silently cried. You felt his tears wetting your shoulder as he buried his face there.

You returned his hug and patted his back as you waited for him to calm down.

Zephyr must have been worried sick about you...

After a while, Zephyr reluctantly pulled away, breaking the hug. However, he still clung to your hand as he began to recompose himself.

The ballroom was a mess.

Although the intruders had already either fled or been captured, damage had still been done. Some unlucky guests who were targeted by the figures sat to the side of the ballroom as guards tended to their wounds, their sobs loud enough to be heard from the other side of the room. The floor was splattered with blood, belonging to both attacking intruders and defending guards alike. Swords and arrows laid scattered and broken on the ground, a stark reminder of what just transpired.

"..."

You couldn't believe this had happened.

"(Y/n)."

You weren't given much time to wallow in despair at the devastating events that just happened. Queen Marika snapped you out of your thoughts as she approached you. You noticed a small cut on her upper arm but besides from that, she seemed unscathed. "Marika, are you alright?" You nevertheless asked out of formality.

The queen nodded before replying, "Yes. Thank you for asking especially when you seem to be in a worse state than me." She gave you a worried look, "I'll call for the royal physician to look at your wound. Hopefully it's nothing too serious..."

You nodded and thanked her for it. Before you were escorted away to have your injury checked and treated, Queen Marika began speaking again. "(Y/n), I know it's been a long night but...I must request that you extend your stay just a bit longer." You cocked your head to one side at her words. You thought you would be going back to the temple after this.

"May i know why?" you expressed your confusion.

Queen Marika sighed deeply as she looked down momentarily. "The situation...may be worse than I thought. I don't wish to push this burden onto you so soon but..." She trailed off.

"We must bring forward our meeting."

~✟~

I. Am. So. Sorry. This was supposed to go up months ago but life got busy and i got stuck at the final ballroom scene T-T Im sorry to everyone who waited so long for this chapter!!! but at least, this chapter is extra long compared to the previous ones so hopefully it will be enough satiate the hunger and quell the anger ^^;(jk) Glad i finally got it done though. been feeling really guilty about postponing this chapter for so long.

Thank you for reading and please tell me if you find any errors so i can correct them!

~

Taglist

@whatispopping69 @ceeesxy-blog @deepinballs @vash-yuu @fairy-lenaa @fleurescentlight @surprisemodafakas @cerisearan @alexatiu @justabratsworld @m0chilattae @sirenetheblogger @rosesunderthegarden @party-9 @waywardstardustcollector @crnnbrry-blog @iamapotatoe @altumsomnum @liesatemyocean @tired-of-life-86 @takottai @queeniecrystal @that-one7 @eyeless-kun @8-sinner-8 @barbara-228

@alexx197197 @00hellohello00 @midnight-nightmare @j1yuji @nilopillo

Let me know if I missed anyone!

[nerdlvr]

nct dream's masterlist

just a lot of chaos and a lot of dicks , sometimes the guys are gay here mb....

ᰔ : fluff , ✩ : smut , 𖦹 : angst , ⟡ : suggestive ,

*(this masterlist contains mature content)*

.

ᰔ each of their love languages

words of affirmation , quality time , physical touch , gift giving , and acts of service.

ᰔ mustache loving

little blurbs on you loving the dreamies with facial hair. *request

ᰔ boyfriend texts

random texts you'd get if you were dating the dreamies.

ᰔ things that remind you they're men

just... guy stuff... they do... kinda like icks.

ᰔ𖦹 when they say something that hurts you

how they react after saying something hurtful. *request

ᰔ⟡ bridgerton au

being swooned all night by the 7 most eligible bachelors of the season isn't such a bad idea. *request

ᰔ sickness

taking care of the dreamies when they're sick. *request

✩ nipple piercings

you get nipple piercings and your 7 guys friends are veryy curious. *request

✩ kinks

the dreamies and their kinks. *request

✩ nipple piercings pt.2

continuation of nipple piercings... *request

⟡ both of em'

what do you do when you're drunk and see two hot strangers ft. jisung and haechan *request

✩ tits vs. ass

which would each dreamies prefer. *request

✩ kiss.

if they really want it, then they just need to kiss. ft. mark and haechan *request

ᰔ not idols

what the dreamies would be doing if they weren't idols. *request

✩ both of em' pt.2

you didn't really think they'd both call you to meet up, well actually, to fuck. *request

.

~~~~~~~

for more individual dreamies content that he's featured in check out :

nerdlvr's world tour or into nerdlvr's brain

don't see anything that interests you? try requesting !

[cookiekissers]

If it's ok can I ask for some head canons for Cappuccino Cookie. Reader is like a stay at home husband who loves taking care of Cappuccino when he comes back from work. Thank you for your time!

[Cappuccino Cookie x House Husband Reader]

[head canons][fluff]

Your job doesn't require you to travel to an office to get your work done, so you work from home most of the time.

It works out because you enjoy being a stay at home husband for your husband Cappuccino Cookie and supporting him with his demanding job.

You are a life saver for Cappuccino. He relies on you so much and appreciates every single thing you do. Everyday he thinks about how lucky he is to have a husband like you.

Its thanks to you that his work/life balance has gotten better and he actually takes care of himself now.

He knows that you're there to support him and take care of him when he needs it but he's not going to make you do ALL the work. That would be unfair.

Cappuccino remembers to eat better, not chug coffee constantly, won't pull all nighters as often, and shower consistently thanks to you. When he comes home he's off duty, which means no more work.

Cappuccino Cookie is often EXHAUSTED when he gets home after work.

He'll practically fall asleep against you almost immediately.

Usually he'll take a quick nap (he will be extra rested if you let him lay his head on your lap) and then wake up to help you make dinner in the evening.

After dinner he likes to unwind with you by cuddling and watching tv or a movie.

Oh, if you give him a massage he will be extra grateful. He LOVES when you do it.

Run a hot bath for him before he asks and he will be such a happy man. Cappuccino will ask you to join him to squeeze in more cuddling and relaxation with you.

Bathing together is one of Cappuccino's favourite things to do with you. Soaking in the hot water, washing each other, and kissing your warm dough is all he needs to feel reenergized.

He loves when you play with his hair.

Cappuccino loves when you make a work lunch for him. Even if its just leftovers from the previous night or something you made specially for him, he savors every bite.

Your home-made meals is also what helps him keep a better diet.

Cappuccino will brag to his coworkers about how much of a catch you are frequently.

He loves you so, so, so much. Sometimes if he has a spare moment at work he will call you just see how you're doing. And to hear your voice, of course.

Having you in courtroom supporting him during trials makes him fight even harder.

Brings you flowers and gifts on occasion when he comes home to remind you how much you mean to him and how much he appreciates you.

Of course you're going on vacation with him, Cappuccino wouldn't have it any other way. You deserve to be pampered too!

When you help him take care of himself and take some of the pressure off, his job becomes so much easier and he has more energy to spend with you.

Like ironing his clothing in the morning before work. He used to do it himself (terribly) or completely skip it to get to work on time.

Loves when you bring him dinner or snacks while he's busy with work. He tends to leave work at work when he's off duty but there are times when he needs to crunch for a case he's working on.

It means a lot to him that you're very understanding and supporting. He gets that his job can be very demanding sometimes but is so happy that you don't let it get in the way of your relationship.

You're his rock, his biggest supporter, and Cappuccino does the same for you!

[distractedvoid]

remember those sonamy for sonic 4 ideas? here they are i couldnt wait

So, now that Amy is definitely confirmed, based on the after credits scene in Sonic 3, I have some silly thoughts about how Sonic and Amy's relationship could unfold in Sonic 4.

So, first, I think their general dynamic would definitely change. In pretty much every other form of Sonic media, while it has changed a bit recently, Amy is shown as constantly chasing after Sonic despite him avoiding most of her advances anyway.

Now, movie Sonic is definitely not as mature as the Sonics in other medias. A huge part of his continuous character arc is that he's still a kid, a kid that doesn't really know what he's doing.

And here, we have Amy, which, from the very small amount of her character that we've seen, at least seems like less of a damsel in distress. (It reminds me of how they changed Princess Peach's character in the Mario Movie.) In contrast to the story of Sonic CD, we see Amy saving Sonic from the many copies of Metal Sonic.

Now how exactly does this make their dynamic different? Well, if you take an immature Sonic, and put him in the same room as an Amy that needs less saving than the usual, the firsthand difference is undeniable. Thus why I think their dynamic would be reversed in a way, at least, that's what I want to happen.

I have a feeling Sonic would be "chasing" after Amy, but more so in the way that he's constantly trying to impress her. He'd probably get into some unsavory situations due to his most likely failed attempts at this, prompting Amy to have to make sure he doesn't keep doing stupid things.

Amy herself wouldn't understand why Sonic kept getting himself into trouble like that, much less that he did it for her, until she sought out some third-party information.

Speaking of (I never really mentioned anything related but just go with it), I haven't talked much about Amy's own feelings yet.

So we know about a possible tiny fraction of her character, and while that's not a lot to go off of, I don't see any harm in forming early ideas based off it.

When Amy, presumably, met Sonic by saving him from the Metal Sonic copies, I don't think she would really think too much of him at first. As soon as he actually started talking, though, she'd find interest- I wouldn't wanna take away the part of her that probably falls in love way too easily.

Unlike the usual Amy we're probably all used to, she wouldn't show her feelings that much. She'd have the occasional giggle at Sonic's attempts at impressing her, even if she didn't know that was why he did it. For all she knows, that's just what he's usually like! Until she inquires with Tails- she learns that she's somewhat special to the blue blur.

I might just be projecting, with the weird way my own feelings work, but I think Amy's little crush on Sonic would skyrocket at that information. Sonic, the guy she only really had a small crush on, was trying that hard to win her over? Admittedly, that was pretty cute in her eyes.

After that Amy would definitely be more forward with Sonic, causing the latter to be a little confused and wonder if a certain two-tailed fox said anything...Guess you can't even trust your best friend with secret crushes anymore, sigh.

If they ended up together, if we were to ever get so lucky, I don't think either would really change how they act around each other, other than holding hands occasionally and maybe a few kisses here and there. Sonic is still adventure focused, though how much he likes Amy is sometimes painfully obvious. He'd gain a little confidence boost if they became official, but overall, if they went on any dates, they'd be dates to kick Eggman's ass for the thousandth time.

That's all I have for now, I'm gonna let the brain worms rest LOL. Thanks to anyone who actually went and read my yapping session

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #34)

Chapter #34. What's this? ✨🎄Has Christmas come early?🎄✨ Nope, it's still tomorrow, but hey, while you wait for Santa to visit, you can read about tiny little grumpy guys! In this chapter, Nat makes a mess, Alexander's mad about it, and someone draws blood. This is sounding like every other day in their lives at this point.

Previous: Chapter #33

Next: Chapter #35

Word Count: 4,192 Read Time: Approx. 40 mins

CW: Blood? I guess? It's like a drop of blood, people. Don't worry!

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #33: Kinstugi

[Natalie’s POV] 

I’d kissed him. And the second I did it, all I’d wanted was to do it again. He’d been so warm lying there in my hand as he slept. His mess of hair, no bigger than my fingernail, was so soft on the surface of my skin. I recalled the electric feeling that had pulsed through the tip of my finger when I glided it over the length of his back, trying so hard not to wake him. 

Over the time I’d had with him, I’d gotten used to learning how to handle and interact with someone so much smaller. How to temper my voice when I was near to not startle or overwhelm him. I’d had to memorize the right amount of pressure to pinch beneath his arms so he didn’t slip through my fingers, without bruising his skin. I’d learned how to keep my fingertips steady when trying to brush a stray lock back in place on his head, or to tap his shoulder without too much force when I needed his attention, and he was wholly engrossed in whatever he was reading. 

Though he was never particularly fond of being handled, I swelled with pride thinking about how much more relaxed he was now, cradled in the palms of my hands, than when we’d first met. 

I could feel my pulse thundering in my ears just thinking about those icy blue eyes gazing up at me from inside my gentle grip. 

I was now in a similar position to admire him, as I sat up in bed, my feet touching the carpet below. I leaned over my bedside table, taking in the sight of a man, snuggled up on his own little mattress, not much bigger than the palm of my hand. 

He slept peacefully, curled into himself with his head resting on his tucked arm, his other, draped over his side and dangling just off the edge of the bed. His covers, once pulled taught over his shoulders, had been kicked past his knees, gathered in a lump at the foot of the bed. His hair fell in his closed eyes, his lips, tinier than any part of me, were left slightly open, his chest rising and falling a fraction of an inch with each breath.

What a brilliant mind and a brave little heart. How did he not just fall apart? I couldn’t imagine life in his position. How unfair it was. How constantly humiliating. I would’ve probably just laid down and died by now, if I were in his shoes. 

You’re so much stronger than me, you know that?

As I gazed down, he twitched in his sleep, his nose crinkling slightly as his fist clenched and relaxed. 

I sucked in a sharp breath. His fitful movements reminded me so much of that first time I’d set him down in the drawer on that stupid, fuzzy, pink sock. I could recall him begging to be left out on the desk and me not even bothering to listen. God, so much had changed between now and then. 

As I watched, he tucked his arms closer to his chest, his brow furrowing even more, while his lips turned down slightly into a grimace. He slid his feet further down the length of the bed. It took my eyes a moment, because the movements were so tiny, but the little twitches of his body, I realized, were actually him shivering from the cold. 

Without hesitation, I pinched the fabric on either side of his bed, and gently lifted the covers, lowering them back down over his shoulders. He immediately gripped the comforter, curling into a ball, still trembling. 

You know, I have a much warmer place where you can sleep… 

The thought came instantly, and surprised even me. I could picture him, clear as day, nestling inside my chest, bright blue eyes peering up at me before curling up and falling asleep there. The image alone made my face burst with color and I couldn’t help but draw my hand back in a flinch of embarrassment. 

As my left hand recoiled, my fingers knocked the corner of his bedside table, kicking it off balance, and sending its contents sliding to the wooden ‘floor’ below. 

CRASH!!!!

The tiny ceramic mug and saucer shattered on impact. 

Shit!

He jolted upright, brow furrowed, eyes wide and chest heaving. As guilt washed over me for waking him so suddenly, I sat there, frozen and dumbfounded.

He looked around himself, trying to discover the source of the noise. His eyes flashed quickly to the floor below, now littered in ceramic fragments, but they soon wandered, to his left, where, caught in the act, my right finger and thumb still clutched his comforter and lingered dangerously close to him. 

He looked back down at the mess, back to my fingers, and then for the briefest moment, locked eyes with me, before turning away swiftly. I couldn’t help the heat rising to my cheeks as we both pretended not to notice the awkward tension in the room. He’d clearly made up a narrative in his mind for what had just happened. I tried to say something in my own defense, but the words just stuck behind my clenched jaw. 

As if on cue, we both frantically tried to busy ourselves with cleaning up the little broken pieces of ceramic. 

Alexander swung his legs over the side of the bed, but before resting his feet on the floor, I sucked air between my teeth, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Careful! I don’t want you to step on any of the pieces!” 

He rolled his eyes, firmly planting himself on the floor with gusto, and rising to standing, “I’m not blind, Natalie, I can see where and where not to watch my step perfectly well, all by myself.” 

I sighed, trying not to take it personally. Turning my attention to the task at hand, I licked the tip of my finger and pressed the pad down on the first tiny piece, before a little voice cut in down below.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Was that some sort of trick question? “… Just picking these pieces up?” 

“Are you coating them in your saliva? Don’t do that. That’s disgusting! Are you not going to reassemble it later?” 

As someone who was supposedly not blind, how could he not see that this tiny mug was smashed to oblivion? 

“Dude, these pieces are absolutely tiny, how else am I supposed to pick them up?” 

He huffed, clearly dissatisfied with my answer,  “Get out of the way, just let me do it.” He took an unsteady few steps forward, careful to avoid the sharp pieces, before batting at my fingers and shooing me off. 

Seeing I wasn’t budging, he ignored me and bent down to pick up a piece. I could see it pained his knee. I winced. 

“Hey, don’t strain yourself—“ 

“I’m fine, stop worrying about me all the time…” he reached for a particularly gnarly piece with a razor’s edge point. I couldn’t help myself, I swooped in and pinched it between my fingers before he could.

“Hey!!” He scowled, clearly incensed. 

“I’m just saying, this is super sharp… it looks awfully big compared to your hands. It’s easier if you just let me…” as I held it before him, comparing his size to it, his hands flew up to snatch it from me. 

I pinched the piece tighter between my thumb and my forefinger, just as he wrapped his little fist around it. His brow arched, as he scowled up at me. 

“Let go!” He pulled back, hard, but his little effort did nothing to sway me. 

“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, I just don’t want you to accidentally—“ not listening to me, he pulled on it again, this time really leaning his weight against me. I could see him boil as he couldn’t so much as move me an inch. I pulled back in response, not hard. Or at least, I didn’t think so, but it broke his grip anyway, and he lost his balance, falling backwards as he let go of the piece. I gasped. 

Too far now to fall back on the mattress, his arms swung in the air as he tried to steady himself. I slipped my free hand behind him just in time for him to collapse into the cup of my palm. I muttered my sincere apologies as he recovered against the wall of my hand. 

He grimaced at me, “Don’t want me to what? Accidentally cut myself??” His face broke into a self-satisfied grin, as he crossed his arms over his chest. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze, down to my fingertip. 

Having successfully wrestled the piece from his tiny grip, and being distracted by his fall, I hadn’t noticed that the sharp little edge had managed to slice my finger open, and a bead of crimson liquid now bubbled to the surface. 

“Mmm, what was that, again? You were worried I might accidentally hurt myself??” He was over the moon. 

“Okay, alright.” I sighed. He kept beaming up at me, his crooked little smile lighting up his features. I kept going at his insistence, “You win. You were right. I should’ve shut up and just let you do it.” 

“Will you repeat that again and let me record it?” 

Little nightmare. I broke into a grin, shaking my head, “You were right. You’re almost always right. I should listen to you more often, but I’m just a big dumb, clumsy human. There, ya happy?” 

He pushed himself up and away from my hand, eyes gleaming. He was about to retort when I noticed the drop of blood was about to overflow and drip down the side of my finger. Letting the ceramic piece clatter back down to the table I stuck my finger in my mouth and sucked to staunch the blood. 

Upon seeing this his face twisted in disgust, “Again, with the licking! Stop with the licking. That’s disgusting! What is wrong with you?”

I smiled, arching my brow. Taking my finger out, I addressed him again, “Oh? What did you say? You think this is gross?” I approached him with my spit covered finger. 

He shifted his weight back, on the defense, “Natalie… don’t you dare…” 

I kept coming closer, “What about this is gross??” He backed away as I kept closing in the space. 

He’d retreated as far as he could, when he collapsed on the bed, trying to squirm away. Getting desperate, he grabbed a pillow and hurled it at me, of course it had no more consequence than a cotton ball. Then he threw the other. He was mumbling protests, warning me not to get any closer, but I could see the smile that briefly played on his lips before he tried to hide it behind a deeper scowl. 

Before he could scramble over the opposite side of the bed, I’d managed to almost pin him against the headboard, my fingertip floating just an eighth of an inch or so over his chest. 

Suddenly, looking at him, sprawled on the bed, little ribcage heaving as his neck arched, his eyes wide and his breath panting, I felt like we weren’t just playing a stupid game anymore. The air between us was electrified, and I could feel the heat rise in my face. He flushed too, swallowing hard, gripping the sheets beneath him into balled fists. 

Then suddenly, “Y-you’re bleeding again…” his voice was strained, tight. 

Shit. He was right. I pulled back, cradling my finger to keep blood from spilling. I crossed away from him and grabbed a bandaid from the bathroom, making sure to wash my hands before I returned to the bedside. 

He was right where I’d left him, though his posture was slightly more relaxed. He watched quietly while I struggled to open the packaging with one hand, that smug little grin still on his face. 

I ignored him, all while he stared on, delighting in my failure. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

Sighing in defeat, I offered him the bandaid and my mess of a finger. He sat up, eyes aglow. I was never gonna hear the end of this was I? 

He gripped the paper package between two hands and with some effort, managed to rip it in two. Then, taking my bloodied finger in his lap, he rested his whole hand over the top of the bandaid, keeping it in place on my wound, while he reached beneath and pulled at the tab. He ripped it away in one graceful motion, even if it took him the entire length of his arm to do it. Then, he tackled the other, switching hands. Without looking up, he addressed me. 

“… It’s best that I do this for you. If I’d left it up to you, it would be a crooked, uneven mess with irregularities and folds in the bandaging. And guess who has to deal with that, up close and personal, on a daily basis? Don’t flatter yourself, this is in my own best interest. I’m only doing this so I don’t have to have my skin forcibly exfoliated by uneven edges.” As he spoke, he very gingerly and precisely folded one adhesive edge along the side of my finger, and then the other, wrapping them neatly with no overlap. I could feel my heartbeat in my finger tip, as it quickened. 

It wasn’t often that he touched me. Not willingly and not for this long. He checked his work with nimble fingers, and seeming satisfied, he held my finger between his two hands, before looking up at me. 

Suddenly, he let go, casting his gaze down and clearing his throat, “Done.” He mumbled simply. It was as though he only noticed the intimacy of his actions after the fact.

“Alexander?” I gently guided his chin with the tip of my thumb, “Thank you. That was very sweet of you.” 

He went bright red, he shifted in his seat, “That wasn’t— I’m not sweet. I told you I did it to benefit myself.” It’s like he had an instant angry button.

Uh huh. I smiled at him. His brow furrowed. 

“What??” He snapped, “What are you looking at me like that for?” 

“Always gotta be on the defensive, huh?” 

“Well in my experience with you, it’s highly necessary. Shall I harken back to just a minute ago when you tried to slather me in your spit??” 

“Alright, touché. Look. I’m sorry about accidentally waking you so suddenly…” 

He furrowed his brow as if to say, “…and?” 

“And for fighting you on cleaning up… And torturing you with germs. I owe you. It wasn’t exactly the best morning. I know we’ve got a lot of work to get back to…” 

“Yes, finally! I thought you’d never ask!” He sat up and rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. 

“Wait—“ 

“Ugh!!! He groaned and immediately collapsed back against the bed. Always with a flair for the dramatic, with this one!

“Hear me out. I’d like to make it up to you with something I think you’ll be really excited about. Would you be willing to come with me out of the apartment for a little while?” 

************** 

Leave? As in… Outside? The last time we’d done that had been an utter disaster. 

Looking up at her face, though, that gleam of excitement in her eye, I couldn’t help feeling giddy too. This was new territory for me: Surprises. Well, I should say, surprises with positive connotations were a new phenomenon. 

I realized that even as recently as a few weeks ago, my stomach would’ve turned in knots at the very idea of allowing her to whisk me away to wherever she wished, and, being utterly powerless to stop her, filled with dread that it would culminate in some kind of sick joke, with me as the punchline. 

But… now?

I knew at my very core that I trusted her. Despite her stupid, tasteless jokes and misplaced worry, I knew her delight was genuine and that she really wanted to brighten my day. What a strange feeling to admit that to myself, even if only inside my own head. 

I trusted her. If she wanted to take me somewhere, I’d let her. If she told me it was worth looking forward to, I believed her. 

Did the concept of leaving these familiar walls behind for a world filled with unpredictable, disagreeable and altogether unintelligent humans frighten me? Though I’d never admit it out loud, the answer was yes. 

It was a big world out there. I knew that now more than ever before. 

But I’d be okay. 

I chose to trust.

I swallowed, “Okay.” I shook my head in the affirmative.

“Wow. Really??” 

“What? Do you want me to go or not?” 

“No, of course I want you to… I just. That was way easier than I thought. No interrogations? No million follow up questions? You’re like… cool with me just surprising you? You feeling alright?” 

“You act as though I’m some sort of rigid automaton incapable of deviation from the norm! I can be spontaneous when I choose to be. All I will say is that this had better be worth my time to pull me away from my work like this.” 

“The boring old case documents aren’t going anywhere, and I promise, you’ll love it. Get ready and I’ll meet you back here in a few, okay? Oh! And hold on…” She suddenly rose from the bedside and disappeared into the bathroom again. The sound of water running briefly hit my ears before she returned, a damp washcloth in hand. “Stay still…” she plucked up my two pillows, that had been tossed in self defense, between her fingers and set them aside, before clutching either side of my bed in a loose grip, and lifting it up off the table’s surface. I clung to the bed sheets as she suspended me and my entire bed in the air with little effort. She smiled at me, I tried to focus on keeping my heart rate down. 

Using the wash cloth, she carefully gathered all the shattered ceramic into a dusty pile. Once satisfied that the place where my bed usually lay was free of any debris, she set me back down. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

She pinched the pile of broken tea cup inside the towel and lifted it off the table, and after wiping with the damp edge for anything left, she looked satisfied, “That’s what we should’ve done in the first place, huh?” 

Then I wouldn’t have gotten to bandage your finger. 

The thought rose to the surface, unchecked. I used a hand to brush my hair out of my eyes and shake it off. It unfortunately didn’t dissipate until she finally rose from the bed to get ready. 

I wasn’t sure how much more my cardiovascular system could take these constant adrenaline spikes. I sucked in a clean lungful of air, before pushing to standing, and grabbing my crutch for balance this time, I made my way to my vanity to ready myself. 

As I washed my face, the cool water breathing fresh life into my pores, I couldn’t stop wondering just what she had planned. Was it another outdoor excursion, perhaps to a nearby park, to admire the snow on the trees? Or maybe something simple and domestic, yet still novel for me, like taking me to the grocery store and having me help her pick out her next recipe? I didn’t find the prospect of being around that many humans particularly thrilling. My mind was still abuzz when I heard her re-enter the room, her muted footsteps giving her position away, as she asked if I was ready. 

Now in a fresh pair of black joggers and a sky blue sweatshirt, (how I loathed the endless parade of elastic pants and thick, unflattering lounge wear) I turned to face her. She stood before and above me, her hands in the pockets of a lavender winter coat, a thick scarf spooled about her neck in circular layers. She laid her hand flat for me, and once I settled in the middle of her palm, my crutch over my lap, she lifted me up. She held me before her breast pocket, and my heart quickened again, remembering the recent, embarrassing bout with that region of her body. 

Still, traveling in there, where I could see and stay upright was much better than being shoved into a side pocket or purse. I shuddered at the thought. 

She pinched the breast pocket open, showing something else, shiny and plastic, stuffed inside. Seeing my confusion she clarified, “It’s a hand warmer, you know, to keep you nice and cozy…” 

I scoffed, “You don’t have to coddle me…” She pressed a thumb into my back and curled her fingers around me until my legs dangled free, as she held me about the middle. 

Slowly she lowered me into the pocket, as I continued, “I’m not that susceptible to— Oh- Oh my….” It felt amazing. 

Warmth radiated from the plastic packaging, creating a cocoon of comfort on all sides. My muscles relaxed immediately upon being fully placed inside. 

“Thought you’d like that…” She smiled to herself. Points to Natalie, she was right for once. “Come on, let’s go…” She smiled down at me. I nodded, hugging the fabric edge of the pocket to my chest as I folded my arms over the lip. She started to walk through the apartment and out the door. 

It filled me with far greater joy than I dared to admit to see the world from this incredibly high vantage point. It was much lower than her point of view, I knew, but it was still a significant upgrade for me. I used this marvel to distract me from the soft undulation of her body against my back and the thumping of her heart which I could still feel through the thick fabric of her clothes. 

She opened the door and we were greeted with an icy blast of wet, whipping wind. The second we were outside, the fingers of her left hand rested over the pocket, her index lightly caressing my elbow, “You alright? Warm enough?” The bare skin that was exposed to the elements was far from comfortable, but the rest of me was so delightfully warm that I answered in the automatic affirmative to her question. 

Soon we were sheltered from the elements inside her car. She was careful to adjust her seatbelt to keep it from crossing over me. Then, we were off, the machinery of the vehicle rumbling in the freezing air as she navigated the snow and ice on less traveled roads. 

I admit, the vibration of the car, the steady rhythm of the drum that was her heart, coupled with the delicious, manufactured warmth of the pocket made me extremely sleepy within just a few minutes of driving. I blinked hard. Fighting to stay awake. 

I woke up to her fingertip caressing my head, “Hey, good morning, Sleeping Beauty… we’re here.”  Who knows how long I’d been out. I squirmed in place, embarrassed I’d been so easily lulled to sleep. I rubbed my eyes and did my level best to wake up as she removed the key from the ignition and the great beast of machinery grew quiet. Using the textured fabric for purchase, I clamored my way back to an upright position. 

“Where’s here?” I choked out, the muscles of my face still coming to. I felt that sick twist in my stomach again. What was I about to walk into? 

Well, to put it more accurately, what was she about to walk me into? Did my palms feel sweaty? Was I nervous? Or excited? It was hard to tell. I craned my neck to look out the windshield, but it was no use. It was snowing again, in white, fluffy sheets, obscuring our view of anything beyond a few feet in front of the vehicle. 

“Come on, I’ll show you.” What was it?? Why was she being so cryptic? I shouldn’t have been worried, should I? My heart thundered in my chest. 

In a blur, she exited the car, and we were thrust out into the storm, I braced for the snowflakes to sting my eyes, but when I opened them, I realized I was being shielded by a cupped hand. Thank you, Natalie. All I could see was down below: the length of her woolen coat, down, down further, far, far away to the snow crunching under her boots. What a long and terrible fall that would be. 

I watched as snow and concrete transitioned to the aluminum threshold of a door. The clear tinkering of a bell greeted us as those snowy boots landed on a maroon welcome mat and creaking hardwood floors. 

I could hardly take it anymore. Where were we?!? 

In the same breath, she lifted her hand away, revealing our location to my cautious and curious eyes. 

No... Way…

___________________________________________

Tag List

@littlescaryinternetguy @lucentbliss @jae-from-discord @kitn-underfoot @secretly-small

@writing-forever @iinogongju @itsgothgirlthyme @make-me-giant @reborrowing

@patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @themarlo @cup-o-chai @raccoontoaster

@tolsizedlove @thegodmother007 @honey-olive @bittykimmy13 @aceouttatime

@liminaldaze @joxter-coded @rosella35 @narrans @rubeau-art

@whatthisfemsheplikes @soapysoap69 @tinystrawberryshifter @thetinylittlespider @gatlily @certainwizardlady @theo-l-ogeneus @windshield-patent @vivianuales @might-be-tiny-gt

@certainwizardguy @closetedgtaccount

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

One of the problems I had with the online radicalization of Jalil in reunion is how it actually occurs. Jalil is supposedly radicalized by a message board, but it’s provided by alliance and the AI mascot he uses is Lila. So it’s left muddled on what exactly is happening here.

Is there really an internet based opposition to LB and CN? You wouldn’t think it since Paris enlarge is shown to still support them. But the presence of message boards would imply at least some support for monarch even if it’s mostly trolls. Or is alliance fabricating it for Gabriel to upset people in a targeted way? Or is it just Lila with a bunch of alt accounts? It’s really hard for me to tell just how wide spread this is as a problem for Paris considering it’s dropped after this one episode.

I'm also not sure how seriously we're supposed to take the criticism shown in that episode. It feels very much like the sort of BS we get with Su-Han where he points out a legitimate concern but in the most obnoxious, inflammatory way possible so that the audience feels forced to disagree with him. It's terrible writing that isn't very fun to watch. Reminds me of all the awful live-action Disney reboots that try to engage with every critical take anyone has ever had, leading to a lesser story. They would be much better off to just ignore the criticism they don't want to properly address and have fun with the story even if there's an arguable flaw. That's what suspension of disbelief is all about!

You want Paris to support Ladybug and Chat Noir no matter what they do? Cool! That works! Just don't take an episode and introduce the idea that there is actually criticism out there because that makes us start to question things like anon is doing here.

Another great example is the "issue" that Gabriel never uses the butterfly miraculous to heal his wife when it feels like that should be within its power. The show was totally correct to never address that on screen because the butterfly probably should be able to heal her! The reason it can't is because then the show would end. If the writers tried to explain an in-universe reason, then it would be as nonsensical as their explanation of how the rooster works:

Gabriel: There! (to Orikko) You! You can grant me any power I want! (closes the Grimoire and walks toward Orikko) You will give me the power to travel through time! Orikko: No, you're mistaken! Time travel is Fluff's power and I can't grant the power that already belongs to another Kwami! Gabriel: Are you trying to deceive me?? Orikko: (nods) By all means! Read the Grimoire again! (Gabriel reopens the Grimoire.) Sass: Each Kwami represents a concept, and a concept can only exist once in the universe. Xuppu: Too complicated, Sass! Let's use an example to make things simpler. Take Tikki, she is the Kwami of Creation, and creation is creation, and if there's another creation than creation, then it's not "creation", it's "replication"! Gabriel: Then grant me the power to locate Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous! Orikko: Trouble is, that's not a power; that's a wish! Xuppu: For instance, if I asked Santa for a pair of socks, that's a wish. But if I want Santa to grant me the power to knit socks, then it means Santa needs to know how to knit socks in the first place so he can teach me! Gabriel: (groans angrily) Grant me the power to unmask Ladybug and Cat Noir's secret identities! Xuppu: No can do! Orikko: (shoves Xuppu away) I cannot give a power that would disrupt another Kwami's magic. And being able to conceal the person behind the costume, well, that's part of the magic of their Kwami. Gabriel: (enraged) So you're utterly useless!

If all of this is true, then how do the goat and the peacock make things? Isn't that Creation? And how was the butterfly able to make a time travel villain? That's Fluff's power! And how was Gabriel able to offer to make Marinette into a villain who could unmask people via the butterfly? That's going against the miraculous' powers!

The answer is simply that the lore was not thought out in a way that stands up to even the most basic questions. When that's the case, the only way to handle the problem is to just ignore it. Keep your on screen explanations as shallow as your lore. Don't try to add depth that isn't there. Trying to address it just highlights how shitty your world building is.

[whatwooshkai]

Lucky number 15!

"Look alive, Blades." Heatwave shakes the helicopter's shoulder roughly as he drops a cube in front of him.

Blades smacks him with a rotor, not even bothering to lift his head off the table.

Heatwave smacks his shoulder in retaliation, then slips into the seat next to him. Thankfully the slap fight stops there.

Chase fidgets with his hands, trying to suppress the happy trill of his doorwings. Cohort! Cohort is here! his coding sings.

Which is precisely why he needs to bring this up this morning. It's fairly rare that all four of them get breakfast together- most of Heatwave and Chase's classes are morning classes, and it's rare to see Blades out of bed before midday. But it seems the stars have aligned today, and everyone's in a good mood, so why is he so nervous?

"Have you started thinking about your classes for next semester?" Boulder asks, taking a sip of their cube.

"Oh, Primus, don't remind me," Heatwave bemoans, pressing the palm of his hand to his face. "I have too much to do already to think about that."

Blades gives a noncommittal groan.

"Actually, I wanted to discuss that with you all," Chase blurts, his cohort coding overriding any anxiety he had. "We should take the team classes."

Heatwave raises an eyebrow. "'Team classes'?"

Boulder claps their hands. "I love that idea," they say, optics shining. "The four of us? A team?"

"Yes, this is the year we would have to sign up for it," he continues, scratching at the peeling paint on his wrist. "And we would continue to learn as a team, we would graduate as such, and eventually work as one."

"Yeah, I can get on board with that," Heatwave says, shockingly agreeing without any arguing. "Can't stand my classmates. You guys are alright." He chuckles to himself. "I can at least stand to look at your ugly mugs for more than an hour."

Chase can't suppress the flapping of his doorwings at that. Cohort, cohort, cohort! his coding sings even louder, to the point where his finials start to flick in time to his wings. Cohort together! Cohort stay!

Blades doesn't raise his helm, but his pede gives Chase's a love tap. .:Chase, I love you:. crackles over their internal comms, and Chase has to suppress an embarrassingly happy noise. .:I'm in, I'm so in:.

"I will do all of our registering," Chase tells them, voice tight. He's smiling, it feels a little weird. He feels like he's floating. Cohort stay!! Cohort good, cohort safe, cohort stay!!! "For both the team itself and our classes. You won't have to worry about it."

"Well, you're not gonna hear any arguing from me," Heatwave tells him with a grin, knocking back the rest of his cube. "Alright, I gotta go to class. Thanks, Chase."

He flicks a finial as he walks by, but Chase is too excited to care.

He and the rest of his cohort (his cohort!!!) say their goodbyes and go their separate ways- except for Blades, who is still plastered to the table, cube untouched.

It's going to work this time, Chase tells himself as he heads to the registration office, pre-signed datapad held like precious metal in his hands. They're going to stay. They're cohort. My cohort.

His doorwings don't stop flapping for the rest of the day.

[dearlot]

spending christmas with the yellowjackets 💭

— just random headcanons that include the crash, postcrash, and adult timelines. in no specific order. gn!reader.

christmas in the cabin?!! they had soooo much more to worry about but like let's build a snowman guysss!!! let's cut down a tree and make wood ornaments and give gifts to each other!!! jackie asking you late at night if you think santa would come and deliver presents 😭 all waking up on whatever day you deem Christmas and having a celebration feast? :( lottie making tea for everyone, mari and you trying to make do with all the frozen berries and belts and acorns you've gathered, misty probably singing christmas songs by the fire, unwrapping presents with clothes as wrapping paper.....

the second winter you guys are so much more prepared and also so much more feral. christmas this time around would include a sacrifice for a nice dinner. shauna would disguise it as pulling cards for secret santa but you're actually about to surrender your life or die fighting. you've all got winter outfits too, and i think it'd be cute if everyone else besides lottie and nat wore these little reindeer headpieces during the feast because you guys are their followers. does that make sense? idk.

thinking about being taivan's controversially younger partner during christmas 😁 discounts in van's store (she needs the money ur not getting SHIT for free) and going with them to shop for decorations for the store too😖 gay christmas tree up in van's room...... watching christmas classics while drinking spiked eggnog and cuddling on the couch.... literally getting anything you want because you're their baby. waking up on christmas day, walking down to the kitchen for a quick drink of water first, and seeing tai and van wearing santa hats and kissing 😭

don't even get me started on being adult lottie's partner during christmas. i'll never shut up. i know that wellness center is decorated head to toe and i know she asked you to help her put everything up 😔 she'd give you some hot cocoa after all that hard work and a nice big kiss.

shauna (both adult and postcrash) is the fuckin' worst at hiding your presents, dawg. she probably shoves it in a closet somewhere and hopes you don't need anything from there 😭 of course you find it and immediately know what it is because i wonder what could this black, slightly boxy trash bag possibly be... probably really bad at wrapping too like most of your presents are just covered in tape LMFAO

oughh. spending christmas with post!crash lottie 😖 im ill. trying your best to save up some money to go visit her in swizterland but you just can't afford it :/ mailing polaroids of yourself with all the presents you wanted to send (some of them weren't allowed) and telling her they'll be waiting for her until she gets out :( Christmas with mute!Lottie too.... trying to spread some christmas spirit but its so hard when she's still so broken and won't talk :(( you do what you can though. taking her ice skating and getting a smile and laugh out of her was the highlight of the month.

nat would be so fucking good at gift giving i think....she's always so thoughtful with anything she does for a friend or her lover when making gifts for them because i feel like she'd prefer making rather than buying. little scrapbooks of meaningful places, mixtapes of songs that remind her of you, painting you something even!!!! or even something like getting you this book you really wanted but it comes with this HUGE handwritten note from her that's decorated with stickers and drawings of you and extra goodies she made on her own :(

christmas at lottie's compound with the others!!! you're lottie's closest acolyte and you've gotten closer with the girls as well. thinking about sitting in the circle with them in the sharing shack and they're comfortable enough with you to talk about the murders n shit in front of you 😭 but also going around and giving them gifts!! drinking wine with them and then dancing in the snow, throwing snowballs, and making snow angels >__< falling asleep after getting wasted and you're all kinda just in a pile laying on each other

jackie would buy so. much. mistletoe just to kiss you. you tell her she can just kiss you whenever but she's obsessed with christmas so it HAS to be under mistletoe. i think she'd go crazy during christmas too. you nearly had a heart attack when you came back from work to see a santa cutout peeking from behind a wall 😭 jackie as mrs. claus.....😖😖😖wearing the hat and (her reading) glasses while cooking with you, waking you up as mrs. claus on christmas morning and giving you an hour long present, like, ugh.....

[twig-tea]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

tagged by @lurkingshan here and @neuroticbookworm here, thank you both! This really reminds me that I need to do a real pinned post at some point.

If you want to generate your own, you can use this link! I used the link to find the posts but wrote this below because I thought reflecting on the posts would be fun.

My GL rec list (covering everything through to Feb 2024), which I'm very happy about taking first place. If you want GL recs, check that out first, and then feel free to browse my #GL recs tag.

The admittedly shady post from October calling out the director of the Addicted Heroin Thailand adaptation for (a)making weird choices and (b)defending them as artistic. But I stand by my anger about this. Censorship is not an aesthetic!

The non-novel-spoilery reaction post to episodes 1 & 2 of Love In The Big City which was also from October, but which honestly stands up for my reaction to the whole series. What a gift of a show.

A quick pitch for Akaya is in Love with Hiroko from July. This one hurts! I was so ready to cheerlead for this show and did several times, but the penultimate episode made me wary and the finale really upset me, to the point where I didn't end up writing about the finale, so I'll take the chance here: Don't make a show about two self-aware lesbians, one who has been comfortably sexually active for years and one who is super horny for her, and have them get together as adults and yet be celibate for a year out of "respect". Is the message that sex between consenting and enthusiastic adults is not respectful?! GTFO. For the record I can be respected with orgasms, thank you.

The episode celebrating the messaging in the finale of Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo from November. Glad that this is here between the previous entry and the next two, because this is a good balm for the pain. LFtCoT landed the ending and gave us all a giant hug while doing it!

The list of things I was thinking about at the end of Wandee Goodday ep3 from May. Another disappointment for me. The things this post shouts out are still things I like about this show, and reading it again is a reminder of where the back half let the first half down (not taking seriously some of the things we were told to take seriously in the first few episodes).

An early post about Love Is Better the Second Time Around from March. Another show that did not land everything, in this case because it felt like it tried to shove in a complicated conflict in the last two episodes that they didn't have time to handle. But I still love those early episodes and all of the interplay between Miyata, Iwanaga, and Shiraishi.

My clown theory for Every You, Every Me also from October, which ended up being correct! I've never been more happy to be right, I liked this reveal for the show so much.

In February I wrote this thesis about the state of Thai BL looking at data from 2022 and 2023, which I have been meaning to go back and update since I think Shan as usual was feeling the start of the wave and we needed more data to see the change actually play out in 2024. I now no longer feel (as I did in this post) that things haven't changed, I do think they have this year. But I need to crunch the numbers again to prove it to myself (and everyone else) though. Stay tuned!

In July I did a round-up post about the various theories surrounding Century of Love, and whether Vee and Vad were the same person. Turns out San did wrestle with this as I'd hoped but the show itself felt like it lost steam and copped out around this, unfortunately. At least we'll always have fox demon Offroad and grumpy old man Daou's collarbones thanks to this show.

Special shout-out to @lurkingshan because two of the posts above are answers to asks she put in my inbox that spawned project posts. Shan knows what the people want to hear!

Tagging @italianpersonwithashippersheart @benkaben @ellsieee @colourme-feral @pigglepiephi @impala124 no pressure tags and apologies if you've been tagged already!

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Lu Guang is about to enter the stage. It's not the first night of the representation, he knows his lines perfectly. As a comedian, he has some liberty, he can improve, he can give his own interpretation of the character through emotions and gesture, but ultimately he has to stick to the plot. I also think the curtain has strong connotations. First, he knows what's on both sides. What the audience sees, must see, the fact the show must go on whatever happens behind the scenes. Second, here, the curtain has the 4th wall role, when the boundaries between reality and fiction/fantasy blur. The curtain's motif is a starry sky, and we all know by now that stars are often seen on merch. I personally believe it also gives Lu Guang a godly role, as the "man in the sky" or "who can rip the fabric of the universe." He has great powers, great responsibilities as well, and the fact he's the only one who the countdown posters hint on his powers (the blue eye hidden in the darkness of the curtains), underlines that idea. I'll always refer to Odin whenever Lu Guang's eyes shine in official artworks, so I don't want to be redundant but there it is:

Behind him, behind the scenes, a real starry sky exists. Does it mean a fake universe is only hiding a real, more complex, one? Does it mean that Lu Guang is playing a fictional character in an ersatz of what was/is, but the reality of tragic and traumatic events still weight on him? Truth be told, Lu Guang thinks he has control over this world, because it exists in a bubble, in a timeloop. In actuality, Lu Guang is playing a game he doesn't know the rules of, but soon enough, the pros are going to show him how it's done. He's in kindergarten, guys.

Is Cheng Xiaoshi banned from the theater or is he the main character of the play? His poster is one we could regard as the play's poster, it involves mystery to be uncovered, and the only way he can do it is through a photograph. There is the banner, telling us it's forbidden to go there. The manor is behind him. It reminds me of SKYFALL in James Bond haha. Going back to the origins. He's truly going through the Fool's journey towards his end.

I'm just going to put this here, no further comment needed:

I also think it's interesting that Cheng Xiaoshi and Liu Xiao are fully facing us.

Qiao Ling seems to be aware to be both a character and a performer. She is in transition, in contemplation. She has an award for her performance but she seems to be troubled. It's only natural that my mind goes to the portrait of Dorian Gray looking at this artwork. “The portrait” becomes an autonomous, independent entity through mirrors, in which Dorian meets his distorted self: all that is irrational, instinctive and hidden in his own psyche. Through Oscar Wilde's masterpiece, we witness the interplay between self-perception, the fear of aging, and the pursuit of eternal youth. Even though the obvious parallel would be with Narcissus, I do think it echoes Qiao Ling's flower, hyacinth, in the young and fragile existence except in her case, you can add mourning into the mix. The theme also relates to obsession. Qiao Ling is known to put things under the rug, not facing the issues of her shortcomings, but she obviously wants to change that. The "connecting dots" imagery we saw in the PV released lately shows she's on a journey herself.

I still think Xia Fei's role this season is to be only a tool, a face and body to be borrowed, a playable character. He is the star of the show, and his position looks a bit like the Mona Lisa. Meaning, he is and is supposed to be beautiful, perfect, iconic. He is mysterious because we know nothing of him and can only theorize. He personifies whatever we want. That's who he is as well: a mirror to our desires, subjects to interpretation. That is what struck me at first sight, though. Mona Lisa. We also see his shadow and I think it is an important clue. Presenting as a white piece, a pawn, could it be that his dark side is the most overlooked warning of death?

As I mentioned before, Liu Xiao is there to meet his favorite performer, Lu Guang. There is a hint of parasocial relationship there; delusion and obsession. In 2024, being part of the audience is powerful. A spectator has a voice and the mass community, a fandom for example, can influence production and representation. It is an external force and you better want it in your corner. He also could be a producer. Either way, the goal is to impress, please him, and you are probably nothing without him. He has all the access behind the scenes, he can try and recruit, he's here for his own profit and he has the power to destroy careers. Through him, though, it is easier to reach a goal.

Vein, I have little to say. He's shown as wealthy and I think that's a way to tell us he is powerful and takes his power and influence for granted. People like this, they don't like when their authority is challenged. Maybe there is some chinese culture at play that I don't know about. We often forget Link Click is a chinese media but social and cultural context bleed into the story more often than not so I'll be happy to know a chinese myth is hidden in plain sight there.

Lu Guang about to pass through the curtains [and step onto the stage].

Cheng Xiaoshi is outside with his camera, banned from entering the theatre.

Qiao Ling looking into the vanity mirror but not getting ready in any way

Xia Fei looking like a big star with his team of assistants helping him prepare

Liu Xiao sitting at the front and carrying a bouquet [for his favorite performer]

Finally, Vein, in his own private VIP booth or something

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: You tend to forget that Sylus is a dangerous man. There are moments when reality decides to slap you across your face. It reminds you that he is unhinged— an untamed force of incomparable power.

Warnings: Death; he kills someone. People, actually. Sylus doing his job. Descriptions of violence, blood, etc. Licking of said blood (done by MC [you]. Don't ask why, I'm ashamed). MC (you) lowkey being obsessive of him because why not.

Author's note: :)

Your time spent with Sylus is always pleasant. Even with the constant banter, filled with your witty remarks and his teasing. It feels right. Everything seems to fall into place when you stand by him. This is natural; to embrace the rough edges of the other and sharpen it with your tongues. It feeds into your unlabeled bond. Two people dancing, never intertwining— not yet. Not lovers but not quite discernable from it.

Sylus is not forceful. At least, not anymore. Very persuasive at best. He knows exactly how to tug your heartstrings. You think it is because Mephisto has been out on “kitten duty” as Sylus so affectionately puts it. Just a nicer terminology of stalking you. He takes the time to learn more about this version of you. Invites you into his territory, his home. Has the twins deliver you clothes, trinkets, and whatever else he knows you love.

Anything that money can or cannot buy, it is yours so long as he thought of you while obtaining it.

“I thought this necklace from the auction would look nice on you. Throw it away if you don't like it.”

Sylus never tells you how much it costs. Or the price of anything he gifts you, for that matter. You know the number is likely to be in the millions. That's what he does— spoil you endlessly and ask that you discard whatever is not to your liking. You've tried protesting, insisting such gifts are far too much. And he does tone it down. But he could never resist adorning you in glorious luxury every once in a while. All he says is that you could stand to be a little greedier.

It goes beyond material pleasures. Sylus knows when you step into the N109 Zone, sent by the association to deal with whatever they need done. Sometimes through Mephisto, sometimes because you tell him. After every mission, whether it ends in success or failure, you'll know he's not far away. Mephisto's incessant caws only cease when you follow him back home— back to Sylus. What welcomes you are a set of red eyes, a quirked brow and a soft tug of his lips. His thumbs in the pocket of his pants, waiting for you as he always did.

Rinse, repeat.

Too comfortable. You've become complacent with that routine, and you are reminded of who exactly Sylus is. Infiltrate a protocore auction; that was your mission this time. An Aether Core fragment was rumoured to be the star of tonight's show. You should have expected Sylus to be here, too. Why would he not be? He was always interested in Aether Cores. The scene before you is familiar, the only difference is the man you've grown accustomed to.

“Well? What's going through your head? Don't tell me you've forgotten what exactly I do, sweetie.” He looks at you, piercing, bored. The term of endearment tastes bitter on your tongue, how ironic.

But you already learned that this expression is simply a mask. Sylus cannot afford to lose, so he gives away nothing. Only you could tell, of course you could. His breaths are heavy, deeper. There's a slight tremor in his voice. He stays deadly still as the bodies that lay at his feet. Splatters of blood on his cheek. Crimson coats his fingers, dripping, he's painted an eerie silence of death.

You had been compromised. One of the attendees blew your cover. And soon enough, the guns were pointed at you before you could even raise your fists. Yet, the bullets never came. Black-red mist decays people. Whoever was closest to you met their demise through Sylus's gun to their heads or even his bare hands. You watched the spectacle, rendered incapable. The stark contrast of the Sylus you know and this— this man who is the leader of Onychinus.

So why are you not afraid? This is who Sylus really is. Who he has to be despite the warmth and safety he provides for you. The same hands that cradle you are tainted, the heart he has given to you have rotten bits. A monster, soaked in an ocean of blood that only grows with each day. But it is still a heart, yes? He still chooses to love you, yes?

You walk towards him, stepping on carcasses. His thumbs are in his pockets; he's waiting. This time, you reach for them. This time, you nuzzle into his palms like a cat starved of affection. You look into his eyes and don't break away even as you lick his fingertips clean. Sylus's hands were meant to cradle you, damn whoever's blood decided to taint what's yours.

“You always said I could be greedier with you. Don't start complaining now.”

[nalyra-dreaming]

Not to drag you into Twitter drama, but I need a trusted person to tell me the truth. There was an argument on Twitter where someone said that Lestat only fell for Louis because he reminded him of Nicki. They said that Lestat would still be with Nicki if he didn't die and even after Nickistat broke up, Lestat would eventually have left Louis to return to Nicki in time. A different person said that this person would have a rude awakening when Lestat says “I didn't love [Nicki] anymore” like he did in the books. Would Lestat really have left Louis to return to Nicki if he lived in your opinion and did Lestat really say he no longer loved Nicki in the book or are all these people making things up or interpreting things incorrectly? I know you have spoken on Nicki frequently but I don't remember these two particular subjects coming up and I never know what to believe in this fandom so I want to hear a person who is honest and has book knowledge to support their opinions. I love your blog btw.

Glad you like dear!

Oh yes, I have talked about Nicolas before, and I'm pretty sure some of the same people stirring the drama now came to me before as well, for example in this post, which actually addresses a lot of the first questions/statement:

As per the love... that's a bit more difficult. I do touch on it in the post above, too, in the reblog.

Mhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Lestat does not plainly state he does not love Nicki anymore. And I don't think he ever would, either, because he did love Nicolas.

What he says is this (while dancing with Louis(!):

“I saw something, something in your eyes.” “Just thought of a boy I once loved a long time ago.” “Nicolas,” he said. “Yes, Nicolas,” I answered. “Seemed all the little victories of life and life after death were so hard for him, happiness was so hard for him...joy was an agony I think, but I don’t want to think of it now.” “Some of us are infinitely better at being miserable than happy,” he said gently. “We’re good at it, and proud of it, and we get better and better at it, and we simply don’t know what it means to be happy.”

Now, I know, it can be interpreted the way that "once loved" means "does not anymore"... but Lestat does not work like this. And the fact that this is the last scene in the last book, and comes up between Louis and Lestat also hints at the importance. It is important because Louis... managed what Nicolas did not, namely overcome the darkness, managed to accept and reach happiness. And Lestat loving Louis then, "now", does not diminish that he once loved Nicolas, too. And it is important because Lestat talks about Nicolas to Louis, about his past and the love they shared. And the fact that he also adds that he "does not want to think of it now" also makes clear he does think of Nicolas at times.

I think the statement only means that he did, indeed, love Nicolas back then.

And then moved on.

It's complicated. Nicolas' and Lestat's relationship had started to deteriorate before Lestat left him, and was actually broken, and when Lestat left he thought Nicolas safe with Armand.

Him not having been so and him dying at / under Armand's hands then left that wound ever festering.

For that, too, that statement above more rings of reached closure to me than an actual dismissal or finality of emotion.

[notbojack]

Random hcs with the Lin kuei bros bc why not (gifs not from me)

Bi han

*giggling*

Anyway

His side eyes are absolutely criminal btw

When he's in a situation where he can't express his frustration, you can be sure he will send them a side eye

Yk cats when they clearly are judging you? Yeah that's him

Speaking of animals, I think if anyone retrieved some animal to the Lin kuei (cat, dog etc) he'd clearly express his disapproval bc it's a distraction or some shit

Yet he ends up being the one to take care of them (like dads with the pet they didn't want LOL that's him)

Bi han reminds me of a freaking cat so I decided he was one

A very grouchy cat that has ice daggers instead of claws-

I think he reminds me of this animal bc they can be very rude and insolent even to the people they love (saw it on tiktok srry I had to)

He was raised like that, to be tough. And though that succeeded, it still left a mark

He never really asks for help for anything even when he needs it bc he's too ashamed to admit he does need help sometimes

Kuai liang

Sigh

*tweak*

He was very obviously a daddy's boy btw just saying. It's already evident enough in the interactions so that is out of the way

But I think he really had a lot of admiration for bi han when they were kids

I saw somewhere that little siblings see their big siblings as like their second parent. I think that def happened with them

Notice how I said he HAD admiration

I think they grew apart slowly with time but it might be also bc of their mom's death that possibly made bi han even colder

He's rather similar to bi han

Haven't anyone noticed how he looks at others?? Like bro is really eyeing them down like losers lol

I think that's just how the Lin kuei raise people at this point

NOBODY is letting him cook after that one time he tried and burned down the entire kitchen

His brothers are always there to remind him randomly

"Hey can you pass me the pepper" "no I don't want you to burn down the kitchen again"

Actual interaction with his brothers btw

Still he's quite literally a heater so if you're cold yk what to do

He hates winter AND summer. He's a subtle hater of these two season (he's not)

Tomas vrbada

Oil up 😘

I'm playing (I'm not) 🤭

I think he's a humble man BUT he's a little shit

He will probably tease before fighting btw

He's mischievous as fuck. I think it's coming from being a hunter or something cuz they play with their preys or whatever

He was def playing cheeky pranks as a kid

It's why he learned his smoke abilities. He had to run FAST to not get caught after a prank (he runs really fast now bc of that) so it was easier to just disappear

That and bc bro was on the trenches in the household

I can see the Lin kuei bros "play fighting" with each other

What a gentle word to say it was a literal mortal kombat (srry I had to-)

I think he too kinda struggles to ask for help, though not as much as his brothers

He's more open minded than his brothers so I can see him acc going to see the mortal kombat movie Johnny produced

I think he's pretty interested in earthrealmers customs. He barely saw any cuz he was with the Lin kuei practically all his life so he wonders how it's like sometimes

Anyway end of my yap session. I got inspired from some mk posts. Mk fans WHERE TF ARE YOU

[some-triangles]

There's a lot of year-end posting to be done. I think what I want to do first is talk about a lesson I learned this year. This is partially a reminder to myself that although I am rapidly aging to perfection (very like a wheel of parmesan) there is still room for improvement.

The basic lesson is: Let Your Friends Change.

Because you want your friends to change. They, being cheeses in their own right, still have maturing to do, and when they do, this should be acknowledged and celebrated. Or maybe they didn't change - you just found out new things about them, or about yourself, things that put your relationship in a different light. Or maybe you just stopped being such a dick in general.

So the actual lesson is: Let The Way You Treat Your Friends Change.

When we interact with people we are all to some degree interacting with the tulpa of the person in question that lives inside our heads. Sometimes the tulpa needs adjusting to fit the person, and too often we are lazy about installing updates.

Updates can be things like:

-This person who I didn't know well enough to trust is now a person I can trust. (or vice versa.)

-This person who I was acting as a mentor to has graduated from being a mentee and should now be treated as a peer.

Relatedly: -This person who I was acting as a parent to is now an adult and should be treated like an adult.

Obviously: -This person has gone through an important transition and I should behave accordingly.

Unfortunately: -This person who I have been treating as a rival and/or a threat to my position is just a person and it turns out all of that was in my head.

So the practical lesson is: Stop Being Such A Paranoid, Condescending Asshole.

And I don't mean that in a self-hating way! Self-hatred is a dead end, and we are all assholes sometimes. It's more a friendly reminder to examine why I'm treating people in certain ways, and to make an adjustment if I don't like what I see. It's an exercise worth doing.

SO yeah, this has helped me with my friendships this year. I hope to keep it up, because the other thing I've learned about myself is that I truly believe that friendship is more important than ideology. (Most of the time.)