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fatuismooches · 4 months

Note

Could you please write about the Harbingers spending time with the reader on their birthdays? But maybe they send what they did with you as a letter to the Traveler like the in-game feature? :D

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬' 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

synopsis: The Traveler naturally expects mail in their inbox whenever the Harbingers' birthdays roll around. However, they didn't expect it to be so... lovey-dovey, and all about you.

includes: all harbingers w/ gn! reader

notes: I've finally finished it! I've been wanting to write something similar to my voice line post for a while, so here it is - the Harbingers sending birthday mail, except they're very down bad for you :3 Includes a letter, a photograph, and attached items with the letter! (Sorry to the Pulcinella fans, I was too lazy to write him in.)

“Home…”

Sender: Pierro

It is my birthday today. Normally, I would have continued on my day as usual, but [Name] had another idea in mind, going so far as to get the Tsaritsa herself to block the door to my office and then dragging me away. It seems they were planning this for a while… The last birthday I celebrated was the year Khaenri’ah fell. What purpose did today serve when my homeland and people were gone? As the years went on, it began to slip my mind and I nearly would have forgotten the date, were it not for [Name]’s question a while ago. I thought nothing of it, but I did not think [Name] would have taken this so seriously.

They knew I would enjoy anything so long as it was with them, yet they had the entire day planned out. Claiming that I needed some fresh air, we walked through the Snezhnayan streets, the normally biting frost a bit warmer than usual. Casual browsing at some new stores that opened up. [Name]’s attempt at starting a snowball fight. And lastly… grocery shopping.

When we got back, they wouldn’t let me help or look. But I could tell from the smell exactly what they were making. It turns out that they managed to make a dish from my home country. I am not sure how they managed to get a hold of this recipe… I must have mentioned it offhandedly and they improvised from there. Of course, it’s not an exact replica, but nonetheless, it tasted delicious. Just for a few minutes, I was taken back to my previous home. That home will never come back, but I have a new one now.

And now the day is almost over. Despite their best efforts to stay awake until the end of the day, they succumbed to their sleepiness, now lying on my lap. They were supposed to read me something they made, but perhaps I’ll find out what that was tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be back to normal again. But that is alright. I still do not believe I deserve a day like today but, if this is what [Name] desires, then I shall not refuse them again. I’ll look forward to the next birthday just as they do.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Pierro and you in it. The Harbinger is seated at a table with a homemade dish in front of him. His giant coat and mask are placed off to the side, revealing scars from long ago. You’re glued to his side, trying to feed him by holding the spoon close to his mouth. Pierro is a grown man, the Traveler thinks, he does not need you to feed him… However, he looks quite content with this arrangement so the blonde won’t question it any further. In fact, he looks as if he’s right at home.

Attached Items:

Ancient Khaenri’ahn Dish [A meal unique to Khaneri’ah that has long been forgotten by the world. Although you clearly struggled to make it due to a lack of experience, even the Traveler can taste how much of your love was put into it.]

Khaenri’ahn Story Book [A book that contains numerous fairy tales and various stories originating from the lost nation, written by none other than Pierro himself, and illustrated by you. Apparently, it was born from you begging him to tell you stories from his home, and eventually, the Harbinger began to write them down so you could read them instead of bothering him so often. However, it made the problem worse as now you bother him to read them to you. How sweet.]

—

“A Day Off.”

Sender: Dottore

[Name] has convinced me to go back to Sumeru with them for a couple of days. I couldn’t care less about this day, but they were adamant about spending the whole day with me, and that they “will not be spending my birthday in a dark gloomy lab again.”

My research has regrettably halted for a bit, but I suppose this was not a bad idea. This was the first time in many years that either of us had stepped foot back into Sumeru - we had not been back since I was expelled from the Akademiya, besides my segments of course.

[Name] and I trekked the same path we used to walk during our studies at the Akademiya. It was a good spot for studying and conducting experiments without any disturbances - that was until they started following me around. They were a nuisance at first… but eventually, [Name] began to help me deconstruct a variety of machines, which was helpful. And then would laugh at me whenever I ended up breaking them.

Ever since I met them, [Name] has always said a lot of strange things, but their most recent comment was that they wanted to drink the blue liquid in the vial I carry around. They think it looks… tropical and vibrant. Of course, I refused them. But I had a feeling that if I didn’t provide them with it, they’d try and get it themselves. I was not interested in having to inject an antidote into them, so I came up with a solution.

I know that I am no chef, but this goes outside the realm of cooking. It wasn’t hard to create a sweet drink that would be to [Name]’s liking with the same color. They were more pleased than I thought and demanded that I make it for them more often. I do not care much for nourishment, but perhaps I’ll try my hand at it more often. They have insisted that I send you some, too. So, Traveler, is it to your liking as well? Even if it’s not, I do not care, so don’t bother telling me.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Dottore and you in it. Despite how much the Traveler has explored Sumeru, they can’t seem to pinpoint the location where it was taken. It must really be a secret place, just for the two of you. Dottore’s mask is on his lap, revealing crimson eyes and scarred skin. You seem to have fallen asleep on his shoulder, as your eyes are closed, though your mouth seems to be agape, perhaps mumbling some nonsense in your sleep. Dottore’s expression is exasperated, but there is a certain fondness in his eyes, one that the Traveler can’t distinguish, or rather, they refuse to believe it. Did the Kamera have an editing function now? Because surely, the photograph must have been forged or something, because there was no way The Doctor could ever have such a tender look in his eyes…

Attached Items:

Strange Blue Concoction [Some kind of legitimate drink that’s the same color as the vial Dottore carries around. According to [Name], it is quite delicious, but would any sane person dare to try anything from The Doctor of all people…? Who knows, these two might be trying to poison the blonde.]

Assortment of Ruin Guard Parts [Parts from Ruin Guards Dottore created and assembled himself. A wide variety of parts are here, including Chaos Cores, Circuits, and Devices. Wait… they seem to all be damaged and broken. Hey, did Dottore just send the Traveler his useless parts?!]

—

“Care For A Show?”

Sender: Columbina

Hello dear Traveler! How are you?~ Today has been such a wonderful day. Why, you ask? Because it’s my birthday of course! ♪ The one day when I have the ability to drag my beloved [Name] wherever I want, with no resistance. Normally they protest for quite a bit, telling me I have a mountain of work to do but, they don’t need to worry their pretty little head about that. ♫ Is it that much of a crime to slack off to spend time with one’s beloved? But oh, that little routine of ours is something that I do cherish.

My dearest [Name] took me to a play. We were among the first to see it, as it was the opening day. You know, they always tell me that as a Harbinger, I should be more conscious of how I present myself. But is it really a problem to sit in their lap instead of my chair? It’s not like anyone can see us all the way up on the balcony seats, hmm? ♬ Moving on though~ The play was quite an interesting story.

It was of an angel who fell in love with a mere human, despite how taboo it was. When the two were caught, the angel had to decide - would she rather retain their purity and remain in the heavens or fall down, stripped of her divinity to be with her human? Well, if you want to see the ending, you’ll just have to come to Snezhnaya and watch it yourself. ♪ But do tell me Traveler, if you were in a situation like that, what would you choose? … I already know what my choice would be.

Ah, but that show was not even the best part! After that, [Name] put on their own performance for me, just the two of us. It was beautiful of course, the way they convey their choice of art is always worthy of praise. But, they always seem to seek my feedback and criticism… they told me they want to keep improving to make me even more pleased but, how many times do I need to explain to them that I already believe their craft is beautiful? Nevertheless, I do indulge them, if only to satisfy my love. Why don’t you take a look at one of our collaborations, Traveler? It is quite good if I do say so myself. ♫

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Columbina and you in it. The lighting in the theater is a bit dim, so your figures are a bit faded but, the Traveler can still make out the two of you. The two of you have separate chairs but, Columbina is practically spilling onto yours, her head comfortably resting against your chest. You seem as though this is normal for you, which it probably is. Wait, is Columbina sleeping? It seems she probably got bored during the intermission… That’s why you specifically chose your clothes to double as a blanket for your wife.

Attached Items:

Music Score [A music score composed by both you and Columbina. The two of you performed it perfectly together as a present to your wife. Of course, it’s bound to be mesmerizing considering Columbina’s participation. So hauntingly beautiful, that in fact, it might end your life before you get to the end… is that an exaggeration? Well, it seems like the Traveler will have to take that risk.]

Pair of Tickets [Tickets gifted to the Traveler and Paimon. There’s no name on it or any expiration date, so it can be used to watch a single play in Snezhnaya for free, with the best seats in-house, so pick carefully. These things are quite expensive, so don’t go losing them now! Otherwise, Columbina and [Name] might ban the traveling duo from the theater…]

—

“An Excellent Day.”

Sender: Capitano

Today is my birthday. However, I have never been very adept at celebrating this day. I realize that it is the norm to celebrate one’s birthday, but I have never felt the need to. Though, ever since I became a Harbinger, my recruits have always wished me well today. Unfortunately, when the bolder ones ask me what I have planned, I have nothing interesting to respond with, always prompting them to urge me to do something… In the hallways, I always hear conversations along the lines of even though being a Harbinger is busy, I deserve to do something nice on my birthday. But in reality, it does not bother me at all. Is it really that strange not to do anything on one’s birthday?

When [Name] found out how I normally spend my birthdays, they shared a similar sentiment and promised to make this one “the most eventful and fun and best one I’ve ever had.” They said that since this is our first year together, they need to make my birthday an excellent one. Although I tried to reassure them they needn’t try so hard for me, they were insistent. However, true to their word, I would say my birthday did end up being an excellent one.

One thing about [Name] is they never fail to teach me something new. In this case, they taught me what it means to celebrate a birthday, and I’d say I learned a lot. As stated by them, there is no exact or definite way to celebrate. It is what you make of it. And they, knowing the kind of man I was, chose the activities accordingly. (There were a few mishaps but everything went well for the most part. It is not customary to break a few knives while cutting cake, so I feared that I may have ruined things, but [Name] reassured me it was normal.)

So all in all, today was an excellent day. However, I am faced with a problem now. What should I do when [Name]’s birthday comes? Should I do the same thing they did for me? But would they think that is low effort and unoriginal? I do not wish to disappoint them. Traveler, do you have any ideas? Also, please ask Tartaglia for me as well. The last time I spoke to him, he tried to ask me for a duel.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Capitano and you in it. The snowy forest terrain looks as picturesque as ever, but what really draws attention is the man and his lover in the middle. Mostly, the Harbinger who has a squirrel or two perched on him, not to mention the few birds that made their nest in the fluff of his coat. And even some cats? Where did they come from?! Well, it’s best not to question it. It’s rather endearing. Rather, one should question how silent and unmoving the Captain is in an effort to not disturb all the animals. Just ignore the deer in the background waiting for some attention too.

Attached Items:

How To Celebrate Your Birthday Pamphlet [A collaboration between Capitano’s Fan Club and [Name]. The fan club loves you immensely because you help to put their long-awaited plans into action. The numerous activities in this guide (blowing out the candles, feeding each other cake, gift giving, lots of affection, etc) were written out by the club and dutifully carried out by you. There were also birthday punches, but Capitano was confused as to why you were tickling him.]

Capitano and [Name]’s Picture Book [Don’t tell anyone this, but Capitano has a tendency to name all the creatures of the forest near his mansion. At first, he went there to train, but decided against it after seeing all the animals around there, because he doesn’t want to scare them away. What he did not expect was to befriend all of them… you came across him one day talking to them after searching for him. How can he tell them apart? Even you don’t know. But this book is dedicated to all of his animal friends, with pictures taken by you of course. So if the Traveler happens to visit Snezhnaya someday, make sure to be nice to these little guys!]

—

“They’re Annoying…”

Sender: Wanderer

It is that time of year again when my birthday rolls around. You know very well I do not care much for this day, but once again, there are always annoyances at my every turn… Both Lesser Lord Kusanali and [Name] always prove to be a thorn in my side on this day. In the past, I usually spent my birthdays under the sakura trees in Inazuma, visiting [Name]. But, things have changed now. I no longer am who I once was, and my relationship with [Name] is no longer the same. They have forgotten me, and our past together… but Lesser Lord Kusanali has forced us to interact again numerous times, leading to our current relationship. Lesser Lord Kusanali always pats my back, saying that time will lead us back to each other… how irritating.

Speaking of her being irritating, she decided to tell [Name] that today was my birthday, a horrible decision. Now, they’ve run all over Sumeru looking for me, until they finally found me in the House of Daena. Panting and gasping for air, all I could hear was them sincerely apologizing over and over for not knowing my birthday. They promised they’d get me a late birthday gift, even though I kept repeating that it was unnecessary. Unfortunately, it has always been hard to get things through their thick skull. All I know for sure is that Lesser Lord Kusanali definitely planned this and that she will tease me to no end the next time I see her…

Still, they dragged me through Sumeru City. According to them, they knew I wouldn’t like anything too fancy, so they brought me to an alleyway. Your typical textbook dark and narrow one. And at the end were… cats. Many of them. [Name] turned to me with a smile and said they bet I didn’t know about this secret kitty haven, and that it was a perfect gift for someone like me. I do wonder if Sumeru’s sun has made them crazy sometimes.

But, this birthday wasn’t as boring as I thought it’d be. So… that’s nice, I guess. Actually, Lesser Lord Kusanali had assigned me a paper to write. A paper on [Name], on my own birthday. She said that she wasn’t going to read or check it, but it was for my sake. How preposterous, right? How would anything like that help me?

But tonight… I feel as though I’ll make some progress on it.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Wanderer and you in it. The puppet is at the top of the ladder in the House of Daena, searching for books (most likely forced to by the Dendro Archon), but your figure can be made out at the bottom. You seem to be waving and beckoning him to come down, so he can have a good time with you for his birthday. Wanderer doesn’t seem very excited about it, but… he will always indulge you, the person he can’t deny he loves. Hmm? Why is he using a ladder instead of his Anemo powers? Well, perhaps the puppet doesn’t like drawing attention to himself.

Attached Items:

Essay Concerning Inazuman Society and Politics [An essay Wanderer has written during his time spent in Vahumana. What, did the Traveler really think he’d send the essay he wrote about [Name]? However, Paimon couldn’t make it through the title page, and even the Traveler struggled through it. But, it seems to be your favorite essay of his, considering all the notes you made in it, not to mention the noodles you drew when you got bored… Wanderer probably scolded you for that but, it’s never in bad faith.]

Tricolor Dango [A plate of dango that [Name] brought for Wanderer as a treat. It seems that they are unaware of his dislike of sweet food… But the puppet did not want to hurt their feelings considering the thought and effort they put into his birthday, so he did not decline it.]

—

“A Lavish Tea Party.”

Sender: Sandrone

Unbeknownst to me, [Name] recently had a variety of sweets from Fontaine imported. It seemed like they tinkered with my bots once again, to get them on their side so I would remain in the dark… they can be such a hassle to deal with sometimes. However, this means that their skills are ever improving, as I’ve been improving my Automatons to be much more complex. As expected of my assistant. Speaking of, they’ve also imported some other things that I’ve been wanting for a while. Hopefully, they’re up to standard this time, or they’ll have to be returned. Ugh, I hate dealing with the Ninth whenever that happens…

Though back to the subject, it seems that [Name] has once again needlessly gone out of their way, since today is my date of birth. Although I don’t like being distracted from my research, and I see no need to waste time just because I happened to be born today, this break that [Name] has prepared for me isn’t too bad. I have not attended a proper tea party in far too long. The fools I have for agents can never set it up correctly.

[Name] is not someone who dresses up very often, but they always make the effort to match their attire with mine. Something that other people should learn from, but alas. Though, I wish they did it more often. Not even the most well-crafted doll could match their beauty. Have I told them that? No, they should be smart enough to figure that out by themselves.

Regardless, I must cut this letter short. After this, I want to work on an Automaton with [Name]. I have held off on it because they have expressed interest in it, and since we are together now, it is the perfect time to work on it. I was expecting them to get huffy at me working today, but it seems that they are pleased to work with me. I wonder why.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Sandrone and you in it. A wide array of treats and sweets are plated on numerous platters, along with ceramic tea cups waiting to be filled with piping hot tea. The surrounding robots are also fashioned in a similar style as her, perfect attire for the tea party, holding additional trays of desserts. (Can these robots eat too?) You’re pouring your wife her favorite kind of tea as you’ve already set her plate, while she sits patiently with her hands folded. Despite Sandrone’s doll-like features, one can see a small smile on her face.

Attached Items:

Instructions For A Perfect Tea Party [Sandrone’s set of instructions as to how a perfect tea party is conducted. Some of the rules seem nonsensical and impossible to many, which is why no Fatui agent can ever live up to the Harbinger’s expectations, as she will not accept anything less than what she desires. However, you are the only person who has managed to fulfill all the rules to a tee, which is one of the reasons she greatly favors you. Sending this list to the Traveler and Paimon is also her way of saying they are never invited as they will never be able to fulfill the rules in a way that satisfies her… how rude!]

Clockwork Toy of Sandrone [A Harbinger toy from Leschots Clockwork Workshop in Fontaine. They seem to have dabbled in making toys of the Harbingers as they said they would, and who better to start with than the machinery genius herself? Of course, Sandrone can point out numerous flaws with the design and components, and probably criticized it heavily to you, but you still seem to love it, because it’s of her! Unfortunately, your wife doesn’t like that very much… why settle for something inferior when you could have it in much higher quality? So the Harbinger decided to make a toy of herself that lives up to her standard. The Traveler can have the faulty one…]

—

“Another Year Passes…”

Sender: La Signora

In the past, I used to be quite fond of birthdays. In Mondstadt, I would always celebrate it with him every year. But after he died, birthdays left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I never dared think about doing anything on this day ever again. How could I, when he was no longer by my side? But today is my birthday again, and I find myself happy. Why? Because of [Name], the person who taught me how to love again. Admittedly, I pushed away the idea at first. But after some more reflection, I decided it wouldn’t be fair to [Name]. The past is the past, and the present is the present. If [Name] wants to make me feel special on my birthday, then who am I to stop them?

And indeed they did pamper me. They always pamper me but, today it was much more than normal. Breakfast in bed, massages, hair brushing, helping me put on my clothes, opening doors for me, fancy dinner and wine after work. I don’t think there was a single moment where they weren’t trying to do something for me. It gave me a good chuckle, which made them embarrassed. But truly, it made me happy. I had… forgotten what it feels like to be cared for on my birthday. It’s a foreign feeling but, I hope that the foreignness eventually goes away after some time.

However, I must tell them that there’s no need to overexert themselves just because it is my birthday. Although I do enjoy the extra treatment, it does neither of us any good for them to fall asleep before the night is even over. But, that’s okay. There is always next year, yes?

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Signora and you in it. You are fast asleep on the Fair Lady’s lap, a peaceful expression on your face. A similar one is on Signora’s, as there is no one else around, and she can let her guard down around you. There are a few of her flame moths scattered around the room as well, a few on the two of you. As her blonde hair spills onto your face and body, one can only guess what she is thinking.

Attached Items:

Tea Break Pancakes [Despite Signora’s history with her home nation, it’s said that she still enjoys the cuisine from there. So, you like to cook her food from there whenever you can. It might not be as good as a professional’s but it provides her a taste of home. A taste of your love, which is her favorite flavor.]

Rose [It’s no secret that roses are Signora’s favorite flower. Beautiful yet thorny, alluring yet dangerous. There are many kinds of roses with all sorts of meanings in this world, but you two have been seen exchanging only one kind - a red one. Whatever could it mean?]

—

“Birthdays…”

Sender: Pantalone

When I was a child, birthdays did not mean much to me. After all, how could one focus on their date of birth when it seemed like life was full of nothing but curses and suffering? It was only another day of working to survive. But when I met [Name], they changed that. With them, the day began to have… meaning. Purpose. It wasn’t anything grand, but they made it special, distracting me from another day of poverty. Even with their meager earnings, they never failed to gift me something, even if it was of little to no value, or not the best quality… I cherished it. No one else had ever thought of me so much. When I look back, every time my birthday came around again, my love for them only grew more.

Now that we are adults, my only wish is to repay their kindness and spoil them with as many gifts as they deserve. However, there are a few issues with this. There are times I find myself more disappointed with the world than usual because it has yet to create something that would be a suitable gift that would be on par with my love for my dear [Name]. However, whenever my spouse gifts me something, their thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze me. How is it that they always manage to gift me something wonderful and touching? When I questioned them about this, they raised an eyebrow and gave me a strange look. It seems that I will not learn their secret anytime soon. How unfortunate.

Not to mention, dearest [Name] gets upset when I spend “ludicrous amounts of money” (their words) on them, especially on my birthday, so they’ve “forbidden” me from doing so today. They are rather persistent on this, and their long lectures and expressions are rather amusing, so I’ll indulge them… for now. Do you think they realize I’ll just spend double the amount the next day? Regardless, birthdays are always well spent with [Name], and I plan to enjoy this one fully, just as I have in the past because they are the one who makes my birthday a day worth celebrating.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Pantalone and you in it. The two of you are taking a walk in Snezhnaya, browsing stores and the like. Even though it is Pantalone’s birthday, he seems insistent on trying to buy out a few stores for you once again… so in order to prevent him from doing that, you’ve hidden yourself in his coat, stopping him from walking properly. The Harbinger seems rather entertained by your antics and your head popping out of his coat… he should make you do this more often. It’s perfect for head pats.

Attached Items:

Pantalone’s Spare Change [As it is his birthday, Pantalone is feeling more generous than usual, so he is sending a bit of funds to the Traveler. There is no need for any repayment, take it as a symbol of the Fatui’s goodwill. (However, it would do good to proceed with caution… this is the Ninth, after all.) Opening it up, the duo expects to see an average amount of money, but instead are presented with a couple of million Mora… if this is what Pantalone is willing to send to the Traveler, how much does he spend on [Name]?! Paimon doesn’t want to imagine the number!]

[Name]’s Guide to Gift Giving [A piece written by you to detail how you always choose the best gift for Pantalone, unbeknownst to your husband. Opening it up, the Traveler is very curious as to how you manage to win over the Harbinger every time, a man who has everything he could possibly want at his fingertips. But instead, only one sentence is written on the paper - “I don’t know how I do it either.”]

—

“Appreciation.”

Sender: Arlecchino

Birthdays were not very much celebrated in the House of Hearth, especially when the former Knave was around. However, that changed when [Name] came along. Years ago, I still remember when they gifted Lynette her first tea cup set. Freminet, a collection of spare parts that he ended up using to make another clockwork toy. And probably the biggest hassle… gifting little Lyney a white rabbit. However, I do appreciate my lover’s efforts. The children always look forward to their birthdays much more now, some even going as far as to drop hints about their desired gift and give puppy eyes to [Name] when the time rolls around. I have to remind my children not to get greedy, and to be grateful for what they already have…

I also remember the first birthday they gifted me something as well. A part of me expected it, considering the way they behaved, but still, it was an… unfamiliar feeling, to be gifted something. And, it was also the day little Lyney and Lynette presented their first amateur magic show to me. Of course, they had much to improve on, but looking back it was a suitable birthday gift, considering how much I’ve seen the two grow now. Needless to say, I appreciate [Name] very much, for what they have given me and my children.

My birthday has come once more, and [Name] is celebrating it as they always feel the need to. Really, even if they did nothing, I would still appreciate it, considering all they’ve done. The sweets they gathered this time were exceptional, and we had a lovely chat, before taking a walk through Fontaine. They say that the flowers that grow in the wild are always the prettiest, especially the Rainbow Roses.

Ah, last of all, if you could do me a favor, that would be greatly appreciated. You have been in Fontaine for a while now, yes? It would be a great help to me if you could point me to some good operas. [Name] and I have watched many in Snezhnaya, however, we don’t often have the chance to watch any in Fontaine, with our work and all. Thank you. And please, do not bore me or waste my time.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Arlecchino and you in it. You two are sitting in a field in Fontaine somewhere, with Rainbow Roses to the side. One of them has been tucked into the Harbinger’s hair, while you seem to be focusing on creating… a flower crown? Despite the pinkness of the rose greatly contrasting with Arlecchino’s whole dark red, black, and white look, she seems to not mind your antics and waits patiently for you to complete your work of art. Of course, as a Fontainian, she knows very well what Rainbow Roses symbolize, and won’t turn down the physical manifestation of your feelings.

Attached Items:

List of Yummy Hidden Gems [A list of great places to buy sweets from in Fontaine, courtesy of [Name], passed on by Arlecchino. Sure, Hotel Debord and Café Lutece do have some excellent sweets, but there are many hidden restaurants and bakeries that provide delicious treats as well! Do stop by and give them a try. Arlecchino favors many of their products. If one needs a similar list for the other nations, do tell.]

Slice of Birthday Cake [An exquisite slice of cake cut from Arlecchino’s birthday cake. She doesn’t care much for the tradition, but [Name] always buys one anyway as an excuse to treat the children from the House to something nice. You know you shouldn’t spoil them so much, but you can’t help it!]

—

“Splash!”

Sender: Tartaglia

Hey comrade! How have you been? Sorry if my handwriting isn’t the best. I sparred with [Name] for my birthday, and they really roughed me up. Not that I mind, I asked them to go all out. Normally they don’t like fighting with me, because they always insist they don’t like hurting me, but they couldn’t say no to me today. You know, I would like to see the two of you fight. It would be an exhilarating experience.

But anyway, after they patched me up, we took a dive in Fontaine’s waters! You know, whenever I visit Liyue, we often go to cool off in Yaoguang Shoal, but Fontaine’s oceans are so much different. The scenery, the terrain, the greenery, the wildlife… good thing I bought them a waterproof Kamera. Speaking of wildlife, [Name] and I befriended a blubberbeast. [Name] instantly fell in love with the creature, and I feel as though they gave a bit too much attention to it, but, seeing them smile is the best gift I could ever ask for. Maybe I should gift them a plushie of it? However, it is a bit amusing that something that looks as defenseless as that could pack such a punch!

Did you know this, Traveler? Apparently, Romaritime Flowers represent loyalty. [Name] gifted me a bouquet which I was initially confused about since I usually give them flowers instead. But after some quick research, these flowers mean unbreaking oaths. It was a bit ironic really, for I should have gifted them instead as I always swore to be loyal to them, my family, and the Tsaritsa, but it was a wonderful gift. Not to mention the delicious meal they prepared. They’ve been busy researching the best Fontaine recipes for me, so I could make them for Teucer and the others back home, but maybe I should just drag them to Snezhnaya so they could do it instead… I never leave anything but empty plates whenever [Name] cooks for me, but they’ve packaged some for you too, Traveler!

Next time we fight at the Golden House, I’ll bring [Name] along too. Do you think you can hold your own against both of us at the same time?

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Childe and you in it. You two are under the sea, with a Blubberbeast between the two of you. The creature is nudging you while Childe looks on amused. It seems that it’s been begging for some more attention, food, and head pats. Maybe some tummy rubs too. Apparently, you named it Big Cutie, because well… it’s a big cutie! Unfortunately, it seems to have a little bit of a grudge against the Harbinger because he accidentally attacked it.

Attached Items:

[Name]’s Special Macarons [Rainbow Macarons but with a special twist from [Name]. On the top and bottom of the sweet treat are… faces? Very detailed ones too, with colored hair and eyes! Ah, the faces are none other than [Name], Childe, Teucer, and all of his other siblings! Oh, and macarons of Traveler and Paimon were made as well, how kind! Childe says they’re quite delicious, and he is a great cook, so they must be.]

Freshly Caught Fish [Fish caught by Childe. It seems that the two lovers also went fishing after diving a bit, as one knows how much Childe loves to fish. Sadly, your fishing skills still pale in comparison compared to his and you barely caught anything… That’s alright though! No matter how long it takes, he’ll always happily help you hone your skills!]

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peachesofteal · 2 months

Text

Dad!John Price/female reader This has been living in my head

“Beautiful out, isn’t it?”

The old woman on the docks hitches her shoulder bag higher, eyes fixed on nothing in the distance. John hums an agreement, low pitch slow to rise from his chest. It’s not a dismissal, but not conversation. Non-committal. About as much as you’ll get from him, on a day like today.

He keeps his focus on the expanse of the bay. A metamorphic magma layered coastal cradle holding entire populations of people, and animals, those that live on land… and at sea.

He’s waiting for a fleck of dust on the horizon, a small speck that will slowly turn into ferry, one that carries some passengers, a few packages, bundles of mail by the heap. It is beautiful today; he doesn’t disagree. But it’s not because of the weather. It’s because the ferry is carrying more than just a few passengers home. It’s carrying his worst nightmare. The final nail in a coffin. His own personal hell.

And…

His brightest light. His favorite part of everyday. His everything. The reason his heart still beats.

Both on the same boat.

The sun shines through the tips of the trees, bright on his face, casting an amber yellow glow over the harbor, and he basks in it, even with the brittle cold.

The warmth of the light is foreign this time year, a time year when creeks all run underneath a quickly thickening layer of ice, morning frost lingers beneath cloud cover, and bears sleep.

The town will be full of life today. The bar at the top of the hill, the only one in town, will be burning the midnight oil, everyone appearing at some point throughout the night, eager to have one last rousing round with neighbors and friends before the true cold of winter sets in.

Of course, they don’t hate the cold. They wouldn’t live here if they did.

Life is different in the winter. Year round. Life here revolves more around the weather and the seasons than anywhere else he’s ever been, or lived, and everything from the kelp to the whales, the deer and sea lions, the people, and the wolves, depend on the promise of perpetual change.

The tide washes through little pebbles of ancient volcanic rock like a lullaby, one so familiar he swears he can hear it when he’s working, when he’s worlds away in his mind. It’s peaceful, full of memories, nostalgia beating in his blood for something long gone, long past.

His heart aches, for a moment. Long enough that his brow furrows, and his hands find his pocket, anxiously feeling for the chain.

The ferry shatters his memories, blaring across the beach, and the old woman gives him a smile.

“Early today.” This time, John does respond.

“Good.”

“You must be John.” She offers her hand, face half hidden beneath a large hood and knit muff, black pants and coat nearly matching his.

He hesitates, fingers flexing, and she doesn’t miss a beat, moving on to step around him, speaking briefly to the ferry captain, an old grizzled man who stared at John the entire trip, blatant curiosity wrinkling his frown lines.

The wind cuts through his jacket, snaking beneath his layers, forcing his muscles tense.

Bloody freezing. He's been cold, plenty, but this bitterness has bite.

She squints and jerks her head towards the end of the dock, sunlight glittering in her eyes. They’re beautiful, a rich shade of coffee and hazel, golden spotted and drusy, a cluster of crystals inside dark pupils. They’re a color he could drown in. The kind of eyes he could see in his dreams for the rest of his life.

The kind of eyes capable of disarming him, before he's even drawn a weapon.

“C’mon. Truck’s got heat.”

“Mari says you’ve never been a Ranger before.” She tries to make casual conversation with him, patting the steering wheel as the truck sputters to life. Gears grind, they churn, and she smiles, glancing at the road before putting it in gear. It’s old, rusted in a quaint way, the kind that makes him think of old industrial parks and aging tanks, a rugged red chipped away above the passenger wheel well, rubbed raw by salt air.

“I have… relative experience.” He’s careful with his words, hesitant about over divulging, and she shrugs.

“With people? Or wildlife?” He points his face out the window. With people, sure. With bears and wolves and whatever else lurks in these woods, less so.

The truck climbs a windy road, pushing up above the cove, narrow pitted pavement flanked by forest so black he can hardly see a meter inside the tree line. The shadow that lingers inside the tree line is primordial, alive, and he blinks when he thinks he sees something moving, deep in the dark. Douglas fir, silver fir, white pine flash by, occasional road signs with pictures of animals and speed limits dotting the way. “Logging is big industry out here. Forestry feeds a lot of families in this area, but it can be a point of contention.” She motions past him to another cove, one tucked just around the bend from where the ferry came in, its surface covered in shaved logs, all nearly uniform in size, floating together in rows upon rows, waiting for their next voyage.

“That what you do? Er… logging?” Her hands are rough, skin cracked, nails trimmed short, and the coat is utility. Built for labor. For weather. It’s a natural conclusion.

“No. I run the nature center in the late spring and summer. No tourism in fall or winter though, so I find other things to do. Work for the park. Tag trees. Winter trail maintenance. Wildlife management.” The truck rattles into a left turn, and she waves at someone in an oncoming car. “Guess I kinda work for you now.” Her chuckle is light, sweet, and his cheeks feel warm. “What brought you all the way up here?”

Bloody hell.

“Needed a change of pace.”

“Long way to come for a change.” She muses, and he agrees. It is very, very far. Three planes, two ferries, this truck. Hours of travel, temperature dropping in ten degree increments every time he stepped outside. He doesn’t know how to answer that, how to tell her, what he’s doing here, how to say he had to leave things behind.

The island changes, geology shifting, granite turning to mud and grass, darkness fading as the truck putters into its final descent.

He instinctively taps the tags in his pocket, a nervous tic that’s develops over the last few months since he took them off for the last time and clears his throat.

“Yes. It is.”

The ferry sidles up the wooden dock, rocking in the waves, captain giving the small, older woman next to him a friendly wave. At his side, a woman stands, straight backed and proud, eyes sharp against the setting sun.

Is that…

You catch his gaze, glancing at the Ranger badge on his coat, and then nodding, hand lifting in acknowledgement.

His breath freezes in his chest. You’re stunning. Beautiful, like the land, like the strait, and for a second, he forgets himself.

Igneous rock hardens in his stomach, in his heart.

He's lost at sea. Lost in the swell. An eddy line of devastation sweeps him out, past the lighthouse on the rocks, past the pod of resident orcas, past the point of no return.

He's drowning.

Only to be brought back by one of his favorite sounds in the entire world.

“Dad!”

#John price x reader #peaches writes #John price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #price x reader

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writer-room · 4 months

Text

Listen when people say they want Percy to go on a villain arc most times I see it as they want him to go dark, want him to start murdering, maiming, going full Luke, etc. And I support that. If anyone deserves to kill people it's this kid.

However, let us be realistic for a moment, because I quite like the other alternative. Villain arc Percy usually entails "he's finally had enough of the Gods bullshit & will do things his own way". Let us think on this. What would Percy most likely do in this situation? Would it really be murder right off the bat?

I think he'd be the pettiest, annoying little shit there is. And because one can't usually threaten the Gods in a way that truly matters, but they can make them sweat really hard.

This goes beyond ignoring their calls and leaving them on read. He refuses to give food offerings unless it's the nastiest shit known to man. Bribes the cyclops into hucking huge objects up Mount Olympus before they all scurry off. Finds the olive tree Athena gave to Athens, and while he wouldn't have the heart to destroy it, he'd for sure rip off a branch & mail it to her (Annabeth nearly had to put them in witness protection).

Eventually it gets to the point he has Nico on speed-dial and offers him a shit ton of fast food & a 'get out of Percy's quest bullshit free' pass if he could hop into the Underworld and yoink up some annoying spirits or dead monsters to piss off the Gods. When the Gods get pissed at him Percy just silently pulls out some safe-for-demigods phone like "hang on I wanna see how many happy meals I owe Nico for bringing Typhon back up". They know he is not bluffing.

Could the Gods counteract him? Yeah, sure, Hera gave him amnesia and it was like 90% effective for a while. However, he kind of went off the rails, everyone else went off the rails, and then they had even more Roman nonsense to deal with. If anything it both solved but also made even more problems. And a much angrier Percy. So, frankly, they're very confident it could work, but they're a little worried about what the aftermath would be.

Ares suggests just killing him. Poseidon takes offense to this. Artemis scoffs and says even Ares couldn't beat him. Everyone stops for a moment. The question is not asked verbally. But it is seen in the darting eyes and shifting seats.

Can they kill Percy Jackson?

Well, sure, they must be able to. He's a powerful kid, no doubt, with powerful allies, but they are Gods. Of course they can kill him. So that's not the real question, they wouldn't dare really entertain such a thing to ever confirm if it was true, but this is rather the layer of frosting hiding the real atrocity of a cake underneath it.

What will they lose trying to kill Percy Jackson?

What will remain standing in the face of some 18-year-old who lived one of the hardest knocks of life, loves so much it makes them sick, is so completely unaware of his own strength not even they know its full extent, and currently has absolutely zero fucks to give about the end of a reign longer than he will ever understand?

They decide to quietly shut the lid on that whole fiasco and let Percy do whatever he wants.

Unfortunately, they can't exactly ignore everyone else. And everyone else is who Percy cares about the most. So, think of it more like leaving a grenade in a locked box in the attic. Just hope and pray you've moved out before something gets curious and starts rummaging around up there.

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #rick riordan #dark percy jackson #ideas #talk #text post #greek gods #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #typhon #pjo headcanon #to be entirely clear percy is still someone who did just like manipulate bob into murder #and poisoned Akhlys thru her tears fully intending to kill #among other things. hes still that person. however hes also the guy who helps leo make some weird machine #and they try to test its flight by riding it off a cliff over the lake w bamboleo by gipsy kings blasting #hes still totally that guy (under stress but i say that not as an excuse just as an 'he doesnt do it on a whim. but he still Can')#but hes also like. stupid. & u gotta get him at the right Vibe before he starts to get like Really concerningly murderous about things #usually hes the regular amount of murderous like most halfbloods are bc they deal w too much on a regular basis #i think that a percy turning 'dark' would b him looking the gods in the eye & saying 'no lol. also u suck. L + ratio.'#& then when they try to fight him on it only THEN does he while still holding eye contact begin to make the ocean levels rise #specifically targeting important places to those gods & havin his ocean buddies destroy the place #u wanna dance god boys? he will spare humanity on some rock but he Will destroy everything else #he is one-shotting monsters bc hes not dealing w this. some bs happens & he just grabs some monster by the throat & makes them spill #if that doesnt work he just walks into olympus w pandoras box 2.0 & starts to open it until the gods will talk to him. they start talkin #bs again. he slowly opens it again. they talk. he shuts it. they spew more bs. he opens it a little faster. they give in #dark percy to me is someone who doesnt DEFAULT to violence but who realized 'oh i can just do whatever i want' & found that gods react #best when its violent. he only does this w gods & monsters bc he chooses fastest route to get what he wants. but he recognizes violence Bad #so he just looks for the most receptive response. & then he abuses it relentlessly. but he also hates the gods. come stop him btch u wont

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dailyadventureprompts · 5 months

Photo

Adventure Arc: A Song on a Silent Night

Before we begin I’d like to get personal for a moment. About a year ago I decided I was going to step away from this blog as a daily format and only post when I was really inspired to. It was a drastic step, but one I had to make because I was so burnt out and so deep in seasonal depression that I was on the edge of having a breakdown. Ironically, it was this specific adventure arc that did it for me, as I felt pressured to make something for the holiday season but literally couldn't get words on the page. Taking a break turned out to be the best thing for me. This past year has been great and I’ve actually had enough energy to not only do the projects that are important to me, but to also improve my writing. My partner and I have written a narrative podcast and we’re shopping it around to producers at the moment, I couldn’t be more excited. (BTW if you happen to be in the business, give me a shout) In many ways it’s very cathartic to come back and finish this adventure. I’d even say it was easy, since I didn’t have the pressure I self imposed because I thought I needed it to write. I just wanted to say: Take care of yourselves friends. Nurture yourself and good art will follow. I am so thankful to have you all as my audience and I hope you know that no matter how bleak the season gets it’s an absolute joy to write for you.

It’s the coldest night of the year, and despite all the lights on in town no one is home. They have been snatched from their beds and their hearthsides by a sinister song that carries on the wind and has spirited them off to another world. Our heroes must follow, and in order to get their friends and family back they must lay siege to the sorrowful heart of winter itself.

Find out what led to these events, and their outcome, below the cut.

Into: Some weeks before the disappearances begin, the party are sent into the cold to check on a missing mail shipment, only to end up clashing against a group of hobgoblins intent on ruining the holiday season. From there, acts that might be construed as harmless planks escalate into outright malice as it becomes clear the hobs are disappearing townsfolk, working off some sort of list given to them by an unknown villain.

Adventure Hooks:

If you’re running this adventure arc as part of a longer campaign, consider previewing the hob’s lair long before the villains every arrive, an old ruin where fey and witches are said to revel during the new moon. Having a low level party venture out to the ruins for a test of bravery only to return months later as veteran heroes will show them just how far they’ve grown.

From deadly pranks to highway robbery, each act of malicious mischief committed by the goblins is accompanied by a list of names and seemingly innocuous offenses, evidently ripped off a far larger list in possession of their leader. The party are likely to collect more than a few scraps of these over the course of their journeys, and will be surprised when they begin to form together, laying out a series of disappearances that stretches back some years.

The goblins’ leader Klatterbell was having such a nice time in the mortal realm before the party got involved. As a hob-knight in service to an archfey of sorrow and frost, the material plane was practically a balmy vacation destination compared to his patron’s foreboding frozen realm. This led to Klatterbell slacking off on his task of collecting mortals and develop aspirations of becoming a sort of yuletide bandit lord. Aspirations the party can’t help but thwart when they riad Klatterbell’s fortress and set the captives free. The fight can end either two ways, either the party is defeated, captured, and banished through the portal to the frozen realm of the bleakfather, or the party is victorious, and as his last act Klatterbell rips a horn from his belt and plays a haunting and mounrful note that will be picked up by the wind and transformed into a haunting tune.

Returning home from defeating the goblins and rescuing the captives, the party find the town deserted, the strange music unleashed by Klatterbell’s horn echoing in the roar of an approaching winter storm. With their rescued townsfolk in toe, the party will begin to explore the eerily empty town, discovering that the inhabitants seemingly got up from what they were doing and walked into the cold, proceeding enmass to the edge of the settlement where the snow erases their footprints. It’s at that point that the frost giants attack, walking out of the enroaching storm like it was a curtain between worlds. They’re here to mop up any townsfolk where were not swept up by the enchanting song and whisked away to the feywild, and maybe do some looting while they’re at it.

Regardless of how it shakes out, the party will have to assail the realm of the Bleakfather, battling their way through a boreal wind that will seek to rip all warmth and joy from their bodies. The only way of getting through this storm is to think back on the moments of joy and light they’ve experienced through their adventures: the festivals, the little kindnesses, the gifts, the pranks, the games, the songs, their friends: These things will lend them strength when the cold and the dark creep in to swallow them… battling their way up the mountain, to rescue the townsfolk and perhaps defeat the archefey himself.

Future Adventures:

It wasn’t only the party’s neighbors that were taken captive by the bleakfather, scores of innocents from across the realms were taken by the frostgiants as thralls, all living out their indenture over the feywild’s timeless years. Hospitality will hold for the winter, but come spring the heroes will need to set off to find these people a place to live.

With their slaves stolen and their fortress breached, the ice giants will scatter, some returning in months or years later at the head of raiding parties as they too seek a new home. While some may be hesitant to give up their supremacy and seek to subdue the locals wherever they go, others may wish to live only in peace.

#wintertide #Adventure Compendium #winter #giant

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blog-name-idk · 1 year

Text

The Plot Twist | 02

Written by @blog-name-idk and @eserethriddle

Summary: Once upon a time you would have jumped at the chance to live the idol girlfriend life. The cameras, the action, the whirlwind romance. But what was once a dream has now become your worst nightmare, and you fully intend to fight the universe as it repeatedly conspires to set you up with your seven perfectly good soulmates from Bangtan Sonyeondan.

In which we punt Y/N into all the fanfiction tropes and you do your feral best to subvert the love story.

Because nani the fuck, you are The Plot Twist.

Pairing: OT7 X Fem!Reader

Genre: Soulmate!AU, crack, humor, idol!AU, light angst, slow burn, romantic comedy, just a fun silly old time

Rating: 18+

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Chapter 2: "Ahjussi, go back to MapleStory."

Life is truly unremarkable as a soulmate-less bachelorette.

Thankfully, none of the symptoms Junior Liaison Officer Choi Mijin mentioned to you have occurred – no bodily anomalies, no universal conspirations – and, on the way home from your parents’ place, you chide your anxious self for letting a thirty-minute phone call upturn the joyous revelries of turning twenty-five.

Though of course, even someone like you can see the grandeur behind it. The potential.

Soulmate. Not half of one’s heart, not ‘mi media naranja,’ but soulmate. Someone utmost, born from the same fabric of life – possibly indelicate, and not without flaws – but beautiful, blameless, and immaterially yours.

It’s great. Really great. But it’s daunting, too. There’s unprecedented pressure in that kind of ordeal, and… you like unremarkable. It’s safe. If you were ever going to be remarkable, it would be in ways you can directly control – like getting to the last floor of skull caverns or politely tearing incompetent coworkers to shreds when they challenge you.

But real life? Real personal relationships, with people that matter? That becomes a polynomial. There are too many variables outside of your ability to dictate, too much that could go wrong for you to spend too long mourning the absence of any soulmate symptoms. And anyway, your singularity isn’t your sob story – it’s your defense. Your most effective one.

You get back to your apartment at half past nine the following morning, heavy tupperwares of side dishes prepared by your mother hoisted in tow. At ease, you whistle a cheery tune as you get settled around your kitchenette, arranging each fully packed box amongst refrigerator shelves with care. You help yourself to an enticing pinch of putbaechu and decide to place its tupperware farther down the back.

Yes, that batch probably needed more time to ferment. After all, it’s impossible for napa cabbage kimchi to taste as sweet as cake.

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In his black-and-white checkered pajamas, Jeon Jungkook happily devours the two-tier caramel-frosted cake for breakfast. Furthermore, because he is a considerate maknae, he leaves the vegan, calorie-measured miniature cake for the rest of his hyungs to share when they wake.

They really don't appreciate him enough.

An early riser, also still in pajamas, Kim Seokjin spots him and tuts. “Jungkook, that isn’t healthy.” When Jungkook suddenly spits out the forkful he’d just shoved into his mouth, the eldest grimaces and admonishes, “Yah! I taught you better than that! That is disgusting behavior.”

“You know what’s disgusting?” Jungkook retorts with a revolted scowl, pushing the offensive dessert box far away from his person, lest it insult him yet again. “Surprise vegan cake. I’m going to sleep, hyung. Good night.”

“You mean ‘good morning.’” Seokjin corrects, reaching for the coffee pot with a sigh. “Brat.”

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During your afternoon gaming hours, your phone screen lights up with a notification. Your extended arm worms through sofa pillows to swipe and unlock it, and you instantly growl at the e-mail that greets you.

From: [email protected] Recipients: [email protected], [email protected] Subject: Executive Meeting on Tuesday

Dear Associates,

We hope this e-mail finds you well.

In preparation for the upcoming work week, we would like to advise your stations re: the exploratory meeting with CEO Son Hyunsuk scheduled for this Thursday at 15:00 (KST) on external company collaborations.

We appreciate your confirmation upon receipt of this notice and bid you a happy weekend.

Regards, Samsong Executive Scheduling

“Jesus Kim Christ, it is a Sunday. This should be illegal,” you swear, placing down the handheld gaming console on the couch next to you and getting up to refill your glass of water instead. Unfortunately, on your return from your hydration quest, you bang your ankle on the leg of the coffee table.

"MotherFUCKER!" you curse, collapsing onto your sofa and cradling your leg for a full minute. After recovering, you pick your console back up.

Idly hovering on the gaming screen, Tom Nook stares up at you with a deadpan glare. You’d think his heavy-lidded, judgmental look was a reaction to your use of offensive language, but you roll your eyes at the prospect.

Tom Nook, the island racoon? A landlord. He can judge all he wants. He’s as evil as company capitalists come.

With somehow even less of a conscience.

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“Ah one, ah two, ah five, six, seven, eight!”

Jung Hoseok snaps his fingers as he moves to the beat, flawlessly demonstrating the first few steps of the dance routine. Kim Taehyung watches him, crouched in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors like a religious student, except he’s also thinking, That is not how arithmetics works. This is why we are performers and not math teachers.

Hoseok seems to catch the faraway look in Taehyung’s expression, because his limbs freeze, dropping to a sudden stop, brown gaze slanting sharp and deadly. The other boys, sensing blood in the water, subtly shift away and try to look as focused as possible.

“What? Would you rather practice cartwheels with Jimin again?” Hoseok rumbles, hand on hip.

Yes…Taehyung laughs nervously. “No.”

Jimin shoots him a knowing look.

“You know,” Hoseok says, pointedly, brandishing his left leg, “I woke up with more bruises from you again. I couldn’t pair my tie-dye top with my denim shorts so now I’m stuck here practicing in my joggers with you instead of walking around Yongsan.”

You’re welcome, Yongsan, Taehyung thinks. Personally, he believes Hoseok’s fashion sense is something of a moving target.

Hit or miss. Miss a lot.

Oh well. Time to bring out the puppy eyes. “Hobi-hyung, can we start from the chorus instead?” He pouts, for cuteness excess.

“Fine!” the dance leader snaps, trying to mask the way the irritation ebbs out of his voice.

Taehyung suppresses a satisfied grin.

Yup. Works every time.

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By the middle of the work week, Min Yoongi has barely scraped by to meet a hard production deadline. Gears still turning in his mind, day lapses into night, unnoticed in the dark haven of his studio. He leisurely strums his guitar for an hour, puts it down, and reaches to compose an accompanying melody with the use of the nearest piano.

Eventually, Yoongi turns off all his music equipment. In his mind, there’s an echo of a tune he can’t shake away. He can barely hear it himself – soft, feminine, slumberous – and he lays back with his eyes closed to savor the ghost of it instead.

He wants to commit it to memory. It’s something he’s never heard before.

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Miles away, you feel pleasantly adrift. It's been months since you moved in, and you hadn’t been aware that your neighbors played music. In fact, the walls between apartment units are assuredly thick enough for all kinds of noises to filter through – a blessing when you get sniped by yet another rune bear.

You're also not really one to enjoy ambient noise outside of your control, but to your surprise, you don't mind this music at all.

It’s nice.

You tuck your knees to your chest and rest your body against the headboard of your bed, closing your eyes to listen. But it seems that the mysterious musician has gone to sleep for the night. Instead, the old made-up lullaby your mother used to sing to you when you were a child filters into your brain unbidden, and you smile at the memory. Within minutes, lightly humming to yourself, you let the notes overtake your thoughts and fall sound asleep.

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Tonight, your dream plays like an old movie. Most of your dreams are like this, but here you feel like you exist in snippets – that you’re a passenger in someone else's skin. Like you’re standing at a different height, taller than reality. The colors seem to cling to the edges of your vision like haloed light through fogged glass when you move, leaving you half-sentient, fighting to see through the haze of your subconscious mind. Like you’re not you.

You wonder where you are. Who.

I want to do more, you hear yourself think in your dream. I want to be more.

You see your feet take you away from backrooms with white walls. Your heart’s near bursting and telling you how much of this it missed, telling you you're finally back where you belong.

This: before your very eyes, an ocean of twinkling violet.

There’s an overwhelming rush of love in your chest as a chant fills the air, expanding throughout your body until it's spilling from your eyes. You can feel the skin of your lips stretch into a smile.

Everything feels like a dream come true.

“I’m your hope!” you tell the roaring crowd.

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Jung Hoseok bolts upright at exactly 6:15 AM.

Letting out a groan, he drops his face into his hands and croaks out, “What the fuck.”

“You okay, hyung?” Jungkook asks, getting ready to turn in for bed himself. It’s his fourth nocturnal day in a row.

Hoseok usually admonishes Jungkook for this kind of misbehavior, but right now he can’t muster enough indignation. It’s just–

“I had a dream. I was a MapleStory livestreamer and – I was really into it. But really? In this economy?” Hoseok continues to complain in his rough morning voice, “I don’t even game.”

Jungkook sniggers, hogging the blankets to himself. “That’s true. Maybe you traded dreams with Jin-hyung?”

Hoseok rubs the spot between his brows. Frowns. It's possible, Jin does love MapleStory. Though lately he's been on a weird arcade game kick despite Namjoon scolding him for being careless in public.

Appeased, he finds the spark to be a proper hyung to their precious maknae. “Don’t sleep at this time tomorrow, JK. If I catch you again, you’re dead at practice. Capisce?”

Jungkook nods a hundred times and buries himself under the sheets. Hobi might lack the broadness and mustache of the stereotypical Italian mobster, but he manages to exude a menacing aura all the same.

“Capeesh, hyung.”

Because he is not a MapleStory livestreamer, Jung Hoseok climbs out of bed at 6:30 in the morning. Because he has a bunch of back-breaking schedules to get to. It’s another Thursday.

No matter what, he’s going to survive. In this economy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Thursday meetings are like Monday meetings but from the nine circles of hell combined.

You shuffle into the arcade with a slump in your shoulders but a fire in your heart. The last time you had a day this bad at work was the last time you had come here, to let out your inner rage on tiny dots and cute little ghosts.

You hadn't even realized it was an arcade at first – you had just found your feet moving automatically towards the storefront, as if inexplicably drawn. And as soon as you set foot inside, even before the odd smell of metal tokens that lingers even in arcades with balance cards, an immediate sense of peace washed over you. That this place was safe. That you could enter and put your everyday life and problems on pause for a short, sweet amount of time.

That feeling has remained with each visit, only growing stronger with your increasing familiarity with both the arcade and the elderly owner Lee-ssi, a friendly man who reminds you of your own grandfather.

You're sure that the worn down sight of you in your white blouse and black pencil skirt amidst the backdrop of the rowdy neon arcade is strange, but you figure if your colleagues can release their frustrations by throwing down in public establishments, so can you. In your own way.

The first and last time you went out with your coworkers, the guy from marketing tried to get you to come home with him. So you made up a liver disease to avoid being expected to drink with them again, and are now letting out your frustrations in a much healthier way: against some cocky kid who calls themselves "the Pacman God."

They are pretty good, you will admit.

Just not as good as you.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

There are a few things that never fail to brighten Lee Seungwon's day. Getting to see the half-toothed smile on his baby grandson's face, making his son-in-law uncomfortable when his daughter isn't around, and –

"WHO. DID. THIS?!" Kim Seokjin demands, furiously pointing at the arcade machine standing innocently in the corner, taunting him.

Resisting the urge to laugh, Seungwon only sighs and crosses his arms, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Which is truly a front, because despite all the annoyances that come with running an arcade, he truly loves his job. He loves providing a space where kids can be kids, and the rare adult can relive the worry-free days of their youth.

"We respect the privacy of our clients, sir," he says politely, lips twitching at Seokjin's dramatic shriek of outrage. Seungwon has especially been looking forward to this particular adult's reaction upon finding his high score beaten by one of the newer regulars.

"Don't you remember who I am?!" the handsome man questions, and the storekeeper looks him up and down, once again unimpressed. Seokjin remembers he's ensconced in a bright pink hoodie and pink sweatpants, then gives a mental shrug.

Whatever. He looks good in everything.

"Yes. ‘Jin the Pacman God.’ Currently… number two in that game," the shopkeeper sneers as he insults the most handsome man in Korea – possibly the world. "Second to GoDsLaYeR_69." he adds, for good measure.

Seokjin gapes at the audacity of this mortal, his gamer rage only further activated by the offensive words that come out of Seungwon’s mouth next.

"Maybe you should go back," the shopkeeper suggests, inspecting his cuticles, "to MapleStory." After a pause, he puts the final nail in the coffin currently housing Seokjin's pride: "Ahjussi."

The Kim Seokjin, being called ahjussi by a man who looks older than Yoongi's soul?

That's it. That's fucking it.

With gurgling, unintelligible squawks of indignation, Seokjin pulls out his wallet and slaps his arcade card on the counter, followed by his black credit card.

"Load this up with 2,000,000W. Right now."

Lee Seungwon hides a smirk as he obeys.

It's just too easy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

It had been a rare occasion in which all of the boys’ evenings (and following mornings) had been free simultaneously, and Hoseok decided to celebrate this in a way so rarely possible for them to do together anymore: to find a noraebang and get absolutely wasted.

"How did I let you guys persuade me into doing this again?" Namjoon asks, blinking in a mixture of joy and consternation at the freshly inked, slightly inflamed 7 on his skin. He flexes the side of his leg and watches the clear bandage wrinkle and smooth at the motion.

"Friendship!" Taehyung announces happily, eyes alight as he sways ever so slightly in his chair. Jungkook and Jimin are fully knocked out on each of Taehyung’s shoulders, their demonic sides hidden by the angelic expressions on their sleeping faces.

"No," Yoongi corrects, revealing a bottle of Suntory whisky from god-knows-where. "This."

"Ah, yes!” Eyes bright with satisfaction, Namjoon’s dimples deepen, and Seokjin laughs at how childish Namjoon looks in his glee as he receives his prize and cradles it to his chest with utmost and deliberate regard. With his vision blurred from all of the alcohol, it almost looks like it's disappearing into the leader's ample bosom. “Sunny, my frieeeend!"

Yoongi nods at him, ten times too much, then glances at Taehyung as he narrowly avoids falling off his chair for the umpteenth time. “The infants are fading,” he mutters, “Let’s get them home.”

Twenty minutes later, Hoseok emerges behind a curtain with a brand new tattoo, ready to show it off and receive compliments for being brave and only screaming once.

Except he’s all alone in the waiting room.

He waits a single beat before looking around in confusion.

“Guys?”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You stumble through your doorway, confused by your body's decision to stop functioning properly. It had begun at the arcade, your normal precision and flawless execution apparently deciding to take its own mental health day and leaving you with slowing reflexes and sloppy reactions.

Finally, you decided to leave after realizing you'd been growling at the machine for the better part of an hour.

Well actually, Lee-ssi had kindly given you a bottle of water and suggested you take a break because you were scaring the kids. You decided to go home lest your happy place become tainted by the miasma of your god-slaying alter ego.

On the train, you nodded off and almost missed your stop – something that never happens. You tripped on your way off the train, and you had initially blamed it on being drowsy, but the trek from the station to your apartment did nothing to dispel your clumsiness.

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you had gone drinking with your coworkers and were now stumbling home in a drunken haze. But you've been at the arcade since you left work, so that's impossible.

Maybe you're getting sick. That would explain the fogginess in your head, the sluggishness of your limbs.

Feeling under the weather, you spend the night in the dark of your bedroom. But then intense, prickling feelings bug you all over. Instead of the rest you hoped for, the hours are filled with tossing and turning, needle-points on your skin that fall just shy of being painful.

When you wake up, you find your skin tattooed seven different times with the number seven in seven different places.

Um.

What the fuck?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Masterlist | Next

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader #bts soulmate au #soulmate au #eserethriddle #reveri #fruit party 🥭🍒

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atarathegreat · 10 months

Text

TR Boys Crackhead Headcanons

Kazutora Hanemiya

Man spreads because why should you have space on the train

shoves puzzle pieces together that don't match because "this part fits, see!"

broke his own finger just to feel what it was like

moves furniture so people bump into it on purpose

crops everyone else out of photos he's in and doesn't even use the photos for anything

sometimes wears shoes on the opposite feet just to see who will notice

has and will break granola bars on anyone's bed

Mitsuya Takashi

learned to bake so he could put laxatives in cake (fuck around and find out)

hates who his sisters hate

definitely shit talks kindergarteners with Luna

wore a matching dress with his sisters to the movies, pummeled the guy that tried laughing at him

doesn't stop the conversation when he enters the public restrooms

Nahoya Kawata

walks down the upward escalator

smacks everyone in the back of the head because he feels like it

had court once, laughed on his way out because he was falsely found not guilty

has and will drink milk from cereal bowls without having cereal

sits and stares at Souya without blinking until Souya gets uncomfortable

knocked out a guy's teeth and kept them to send back to him via mail

Souya Kawata

Prefers to sleep in a pile of stuffed animals

the bed hasn't been slept in for three years

actually writes poems and hangs them around the city, ended up on the news for it

Cries to ASPCA commercials

Gets angry when Nahoya falls asleep on the couch, drags him back to bed by his feet

completely believes he could solve true crime

Keisuke Baji

Sharpens his teeth with a nail file

tried wearing contacts once but didn't soak them in contact solution so he only dried his eyes out

calls everyone babe platonically

if he can't find both shoes he only wears one

has a scrunchy collection

thought he was spiderman once and jumped off a roof

will shake his ass when standing still (mad tango skillz)

Kokonoi Hajime

Has a book of rare coins

has a button collection

uses chalk hairdye

plucks his eyebrows too thin

can ballet dance

TikTok feind

Manjiro Sano

Calls in sick to places he doesn't work

Got fired from three places he didn't work at

always orders kids meals

has a tantrum until Kenny cuts his hair

uses clear nail polish regularly

has debated getting a trampstamp

does his hair straight up before fixing it so he can look like a unicorn

Ken Ryuguji

has gone bald, does not work for him

draws in tattoos on the side of his head

has a collection of fake earrings that he tried once (Howls Moving Castle theme)

keeps flavored lube in his room just so he can taste it when he wants something sweet

Taiju Shiba

Thinks he can pull of orange (makes him feel like a baddy)

carries an eyebrow pencil everywhere

fights random females for fun

punches himself in the face for being late to things

had frosted tips in middle school

has staring contests with himself

Hanma Shuji

eats ice cream with a fork

eats soup off a plate

has a closet full of plaid clothing, irons it before wearing because "who tf fights with wrinkles in their clothes"

swears by hair gel

tried hairspray once, didn't taste nice so he threw it out a window

after being dubbed the Reaper, he wore a grim reaper outfit

will kiss and the homies and say no homo

Chifuyu Matsuno

plans to name his first child after his cat

has a Baji shrine next to his Peke J shrine

reads his Yaoi books in public and has outburst when things don't go how he wants them to

locked himself in a pet store and threatened to kill himself if he didn't get a cat, his mom beat the shit out of him for it

screams "real or cake" before biting literally anything

Tetta Kisake

puts milk before cereal

writes cursive only to annoy others

once slept on the roof of his house to make his mom feel bad for yelling at him

has a dog name Roscoe (it's a female)

definitely has little man syndrome

thinks girls are into his "mysterious" vibe (literally just doesn't speak to anyone and has RBF)

once pretended to be gay thinking he would get into a girls slumber party

Hakkai Shiba

the only girl he can talk to is his sister (that's just a fact)

moves the family photos around to see if Yuzuha will notice

is regularly on discord but he pretends to be a girl so he can troll guys

swings from trees like hes a monkey because he thinks its faster than running

worked at a haunted house and crawled across the floor like some messed up spider, he was playing as a scarecrow, it was a childrens haunted house

Takamichi Hanagaki

tries to scale buildings by the fire escapes

copies the others fighting styles hoping to look just as cool

eats a raw egg every morning

crops himself out of photos so no one can find him

unironically calls Hina his little princess

colors in the boxes to crossword puzzles

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silverskye13 · 9 months

Text

"You're bleeding."

It's an obvious statement, one Tanguish feels a little foolish for. Of course Helsknight is bleeding. He just won his match. It's amazing how strong these Colosseum fighters are, how much damage they can do to each other, especially when they're matched up well. And Helsknight is the Champion of Hels -- if for no other reason than the popularity with the crowd, every one of his matches is a good match. It has to be. Anything less and it's not the Champion, is it?

Helsknight looks dazed. It's a familiar look. After a particularly rough fight. It's like the knight can't believe the fight has stopped. It takes a few minutes for his heart to stop sprinting. So he goes through the gate, dragging his sword up to the nearby wall and plants himself on the bench, and he stares into the middle distance, breathing, bleeding, waiting. It's a familiar look. Today he's spattered up to the elbow in blood, and it runs between the links of his chain mail in thin calligraphy lines. It gathers in the bends in his pauldrons, makes more stark the dent in his chest plate. If it's not cleaned and polished off in the next few hours, it'll settle in those places and poison them with rust, and the next time Helsknight fights, he'll be more vulnerable. Blood is such an insidious thing sometimes, the way it weakens when it flows.

Tanguish moves to the knight, a bowl of water in one hand, a healing kit in the other. He takes the knight apart like he's a machine, slipping delicate fingers across the gauntleted hand, undoing straps and buckles to show the bruised knuckles beneath the armor. Metal and leather can only do so much. Bodies break surprisingly well, when they're testing their limits. Helsknight sighs as Tanguish massages his hand, searching for broken bones. The knight is almost feverishly hot to his frost-laden touch, and Tanguish watches the swollen skin start to pale as the cold soothes it.

"You don't have to do that," Helsknight says, his voice a thin and distant rasp, still lost somewhere in the adrenaline crash. "Just... give me a minute to rest."

"I am," Tanguish answers him gently and keeps working, unclasping the buckles on the chest plate and pulling it free. He lays it gently on the ground, and takes pride in how Helsknight breathes easier. The knight rests, eyes fluttering half-closed and sighing as Tanguish works. Cold hands trace over blooded armor and fevered skin, setting right the wrongs. He dabs at cuts, eliciting hisses of pain that he immediately soothes. He puts ice to bruises, and water to sweat and blood, and Helsknight revives, slowly. His breathing lengthens and deepens. The flushed skin cools. The muscles relax.

"How did the fight go?" Tanguish asks when Helsknight's eyes flutter open again.

"I won."

"You can say it better than that."

Helsknight smirks, his vitality slowly returning. He sniffs and runs a tongue across his teeth, making room for the words where there once was blood. Tanguish doesn't know how the knight stands the taste, but then again, Helsknight has been in a great many fights. Maybe blood loses its flavor after so long.

"You watched the fight."

"And so did they," Tanguish looks up to the ceiling, where the cheering of the crowd still sometimes surges and roars. "But none of us can tell the story the way you can."

"Blood is memory without language."

"See, that's what I mean."

"Weaving bard's tales already?" someone asks, another fighter sitting on another bench, cleaning a bloodied sword. "You haven't even rested yet."

"He's resting now," Tanguish says, running the damp cloth over a gash in Helsknight's arm. That one will need stitches, or a health potion. Helsknight's hand shakes when Tanguish cleans it, and there's color in the cut that means its too deep, gruesomeness he doesn't want to put names to, for fear it'll make him sick. Helsknight spares the wound a glance before pointedly fixing his gaze away from it. It always strikes Tanguish as funny, that the knight can't look at his own wounds. He can inflict them, he can tend them in others, he can ignore them, but admitting he's wounded is a mountain he struggles to climb.

Helsknight closes his eyes again, but the eyelids keep moving, like a man dreaming or searching for words.

"Where do you want me to start?"

"When they opened the cage."

Helsknight nods. He sits in silence for a long moment. In a few days, when all wounds are healed and all aches soothed, Helsknight will write in a little book he keeps under his pillow:

Blood is memory without language The wounded creature screams And though the sand drinks life away We lay linked by crimson streams

Brothers you and I, creature Kin on parched and bitter sand Though mine is spilt for glory Yours is spilt by crowd's command

What place is this, what hell endured That brings us to this yield But happenstance and hubris And hungry crowd's bone field

What beast are you to me, creature What creature I to you You are a footnote in a story And I the death of you

Again repeat what we both know Whilst life, for now, entwine That we are linked in blood my love Shared memory divine

#the barking writer #helsknight #tanguish #redstone and skulk related #[loud shrugging] something about blood man i dunno #it's one am i've been listening to NFWMB on repeat for two hours

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j0kers-light · 22 days

Note

I just know Joker would be so fed up with a reader who needs glasses

Like no J, I didn't see you the other day when you were stalking me while I was shopping, sorry for not going over and say hi.

SORRY my visits to the ophthalmologist are that expensive, I'm just a girl who needs her eyes checked!!

"Bunny... what da ya mean you need... contact lenses...? Like lentils for t'eyes?"

omg I can't he is just so dumb when he wants to😭

Woah anon this one hits too close to home. I went to the ophthalmologist last Thursday and for the first time in my life, I need glasses. I am not adjusting well 😣

Let's get into it! 🖤✨

Joker instantly makes fun of you. For starters, Frost had to help you back home since they dilated your eyes at the office and urged you not to drive. So you came through the door, looking like a lost cause clinging onto Frost.

For months you've been complaining about headaches and double vision, all on deaf ears. You had to take matters into your own hands and find a specialist to perform an eye exam.

Now you're finally getting help to correct your vision! Not like Joker cares. He picks on you by waving his hands in front of your face. You snap at him because you can still see.

"J move out the way! I'm not legally blind, this is only temporary." You grope at the air to prevent yourself from bumping into anything. You still run head first into a potted plant, knocking it over.

Joker thinks your protective glasses, he dubbed them "Ray Charles" are absolutely hilarious. They help with bright lights until your pupils return to normal but it does make you look, well, like a visually impaired person. "All you need is a cane, doll!"

Its days like this where you question why you love Joker. He's such a jerk.

Any support or help you wish to get from Joker is non existent. He is blissfully unaware about how serious your situation is. Thankfully the drops wear off but you have to endure Joker for the upcoming days until your glasses come in the mail.

Joker says the most insensitive things to you like, "Bunny what do ya mean you need uh, contact lenses? Like lentils for your eyes?" or "My Bunny is blind. Maybe I should call ya mouse instead?"

You groan for the umpteenth time and ignore him. You're not legally blind, just.. [insert level of impairment] His jokes aren't funny.

Finally your prescriptions arrive in the mail and you hastily put them on. Its like seeing the world anew. You smile and glance around the room and your eyes land on Joker, who has his jaw on the floor.

"Wow.. I uh.. ahem. You look... B-Bunny.. ya look nerdy. Did they not have a err better selection?" He looked away, hiding his blush.

And your happiness is squashed. Great. You're not his goddess anymore. You sulk around the apartment as you adjust to your new eyes feeling completely miserable. Along with the expected headaches, and discomfort, your mood is in the sewer.

It brings about.. let's say problems. Key word: Joker is the problem. He plays too much and your poor frames is his brand new toy. He bends them, loses them, and even worse? He completely breaks them all 'on accident'. Yeah right.

He just laughs each time saying, "I'll uhh buy ya a new pair."

Joker is a man of his word but your ophthalmologist gives you a disapproving look when you order your sixth pair of glasses in a two month period. Insurance has since stopped footing the bill, they're fed up too.

Your doctor suggests contacts which you think would be a better fit. It is not. Joker manages to ruin them too.

He misplaces your contact case. He uses your contact fluid for a new laughing gas compound, he distracts you and much to your horror-- you sleep with your contacts still in.

Along with the stress of new glasses, the sudden change in your life, and Joker's lack of concern, you're bound to break down and it happens one day when you're working on your laptop in the living room.

Joker sneaks up behind you and steals your new (seventh pair) of glasses right off your face. You react accordingly but with the loss of your visual aid, the room is blurry and you can't focus.

"Joker give me back my glasses! I can't see without them!"

You hear his signature laugh a little to your left and turn that way. You can barely see his figure holding your glasses up to his face. He whistles low.

"Geez, Bunny! I knew ya couldn't, ah see, but this? This is pathetic!" His words sting and make you falter reaching his side.

The one person you need the most to be supportive, and on your side during such a life changing event, is your bully. Why can't Joker be more understanding? You don't know you're crying until Joker is standing before you. He's close enough for you to see him clearly.

And he doesn't look happy. "What's gotten into you?"

He doesn't even know?!! That just makes you cry even harder. Your tears are Joker's kryptonite and he groans to himself before yanking you into your arms.

"Bunny..... stop that.. You know I haTe it when you cry." He rocks the two of you back and forth but you aren't moved by his weak attempt at an apology.

"Then why are you being so mean to me?! You keep breaking my glasses, I can't see without them, I'm... I'm so tired and—"

Joker shuts you up with a kiss and your body betrays you by kissing him back. He pulled away so he could see your e/c sparkling up at him.

“You've been soooo stressed lately. I thoughT my jokes would help ease your mind! I just wanted you to smile."

"You made fun of me and called me a nerd!" You pout.

He sighed and placed your glasses where they belong. The way he was looking at you made you adopt a slight flush to your cheeks.

"I didn't mean to be mean, Princess. These make ya look hot, very hoT. Like the sexy author I know ya are."

You looked away, mumbling. "You... you think I look hot?"

Joker laughed and spun you around in his arms. He then attacked your face with sloppy kisses while his eager hands roamed your body.

"Think? Oh I know my goddess is stunning with or without glasses. You. Are. Beaut-Tee-full and the day I say otherwise, be a dear and uh.. stab me with a knife."

He smirked hearing your joyful laughter ringing out. Oh how he missed it.

#thanks anon!#thanks for the ask!#sfw headcanons #ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker x reader #joker x y/n #joker x you #joker x reader #joker x black!reader #ledger!joker #ledger joker #heath joker #reader wears eye glasses #joker is so sweet when he wanna be #soft joker loading #reader insert

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rwby-encrusted-blog · 3 months

Text

You know, because it's hard to give a massive amount of character in one post, I'm gonna list stuff about alternate rusted knights here

Repentant Thief: Emerald Sustrai, desperate for company used her semblance to hallucinate her friends/allies. Over time as her memory of them began failing, the illusions became flatter, more generic in their kindness and support, and at some points she truly believes that's what RWBY and Co. were like, while at others she can't stand the sight of them, the inaccuracies making her sick to her stomach.

She waits for her Heroes. The ones that saved her before.

She wears leather armor with a Leather helm that covers the lower portion of her face, with a large cloak and hood over all of it. her pants are very similar to previoupairs, simply plainer and sturdier. She has traded heels in for full hiking boots.

~~~~~

Fathomless Angler: Clover Ebi, now an old man, has grown tired, very, very tired. So tired he no longer cares to find a way out, and lets time slip by - He never read The Girl that fell Through the World, his knowledge of it's tale being minimal. He figures this is some twisted afterlife, that he'd done wrong fighting Qrow and has to let himself be punished for fighting his friend.

He Waits, as catching a fish is mostly waiting for it to take the bait. He's still trying to figure out his fish.

Clover wears a faded, dusty Atlesian coat, meant to have water and snow slide right off, with a large scarf and slick bucket hat. due to lack of care, his beard has grown long and scraggly, a veritable bush of salt and pepper. He wears Waders in place of his old Military boots.

~~~~~

The Cobalt Knight (Oxidized Cobalt): Alyx, upon deciding to amend her mistakes in the Ever After was assaulted by The Curious Cat. Jaune Arc, the Rusted Knight, still sick from the poison rushed to her aid. In the end, Alyx was saved, and the cat slinked away to lick it's wounds.

Jaune's didn't make it, and was swallowed by the tree.

Alyx, unable to heal him, to fix this mistake took up his weapons and trained. She was smart - out maneuvering and outsmarting the cat for years until she was able to fight it directly. Then they stayed apart, the Cat not wanting to risk themself, and Alyx not wanting to her own life in revenge.

Alyx waits for the same reasons Jaune did - Guilt, anger, self-loathing, and a need to help RWBY, with all the same weapons he fought with; Mind, Sword, and Shield.

She wears armor like Jaune's only simpler, and lighter, and in FAR better condition - only a little dirty and scuffed.

~~~~~

The Frosted Empress (Lonely): Weiss Schnee, Knowing all she had to do was wait, did just that. She waited. and Waited. And waited. She did her best to stay stable, she practiced arts, she kept up her training, she began to speak to herself in off moments, she never got along with people too much liker herself so Alyx was a handful to deal with.

She oscillates between a very sweet, matronly figure, and an Icy, bitchy Vol-1-esque personality, with moments of lucidity being not too uncommon.

This Weiss wears very simply constructed outfits - basic chain mail and dresses, with immense ornamentation, and a veil, like one would wear at a funeral. She has many different trinkets - leaves, feathers, jewelry and what not.

~~~~~

The Wilted Rose: Ruby Rose fell into the Ever After, and Suffered. She fought as much as she always had, but with no support, no clear goal and the weight of her failings crushing her, Alyx and Lewis were the Straws that broke the Camel's back.

She Ascended into the one person she knew could do anything.

Summer rose.

As motherly and sweet as ever, this rose has thorns only for The Curious Cat - even if she can't remember why.

She looks like an older Summer. With like, very graying hair. It's just Summer Rose.

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #alyx rwby #rwby alyx #clover ebi #emerald sustrai #alternative rusted knight #rwby au

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frostbitepandaaaaa · 4 months

Note

Hi ^^ now when i've found your list, and i feel safer than a while ago (thank you! :D ) and i have no idea what Aphelion could be, may i ask about:

Melshi and the others ...?

ahhhh, my dear Nen, that is part 2 of my zombie AU i wrote for Whumptober!

(also, side note, 'Aphelion' is an astronomical term for when two heavenly bodies that orbit each other are at their further points away from each other. take from that what you will)

here's a snippet of part 2 of Sometimes the Wolf:

Jyn lays half upright against the other wheel well, still panting. Her own charge seems to have passed out on her chest— from sheer exhaustion or from shock he can’t say, but it doesn’t matter. He can work around her. “Cass…” she hisses at him almost in warning as he drags himself toward her. He snaps open the thick plastic hatch of the tac box. “It’s too late—“ “Are you feeling feverish?” he asks, plucking the precious vial from the foam encasing it and shaking it. “No, but… Cassian it could just be the rain… or shock. Too much time has passed—“ “The virus works different on everyone. Thirty minutes is just a rule of thumb—“ “Cassian, if you do this and I turn anyway, it will be a waste. Wasted when it could be used for someone else.” He pulls the cap off the syringe with his teeth. Pierces the vial and begins to draw. “Draven will flay you alive!” she continues, growing a bit desperate, perhaps. He flicks air from the needle. “You think I give a shit about that?” He pulls up the sleeve of her jacket, smooths the rain and blood from the bite. It’s black and putrid and hot to the touch. He feels himself reel, but he takes a breath, looks up at her with the best grin he can muster. “Are we married or not?” Cassian waits for a relatively smooth stretch of road as Jyn lets out a harsh breath of frustration. “I can’t fucking believe your making jokes right—“ Jyn halts in her griping with a hiss of pain as the needle goes in. She always did hate needles. Cassian depresses the syringe, pulls the needle free, tosses it back into the box. He grips her face between his hands and brings their brows together. “You’re going to make it,” he swears to her. “You’re going to make it, or I’m going with you.”

#wip game #adeptnenyim #frost has mail #my writing #rebelcaptain

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 4 months

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Wait, what do the neighbours do to more or less get money? Like what do they do for quests wise?

Howdy's tavern has a board where people can post jobs/quest requests - a lot like in Fairy Tail! a lot of times requests are sent in the mail to any tavern/area that will post them, so you gotta be quick about responding before anyone else does. if the posting was sent in, they have to reply via some form of message to confirm it and essentially say "dont let anyone else take the job, i'm/we're on my/our way"

the quests/jobs have a wide range. sometimes its like "collect this item for me", sometimes its "bodyguard me & my belongings while i travel", and it can be "kill the monster terrorizing my town." it can be anything! it's a mixed bag!

and its a little risky, too. the job postings arent always... In Depth. one time the Neighborhood rushed somewhere because the posting just said HUGE EMERGENCY, LIVES IN DANGER but in reality it was an elderly farmer who had them build a new coop for her chickens before the winter frost. then another time it was all "id like help with a small issue at our town's border" and then the Neighborhood got there and it was a fuckoff huge dragon that they were Not prepared to handle.

the Neighborhood doesnt just take job postings though! their travels often take a while because they'll get into shenanigans/trouble, or in completing one job something else will be asked of them, etc. they also don't always do it for money. if someone's in trouble while they're traveling, theyre gonna help without asking for compensation.

#sometimes their jobs/quests start at home base #sometimes they have to travel #sometimes someone will even arrive asking specifically for them!#the length of their travels also varies wildly #sometimes its a couple days #sometimes its a couple months #one time they didnt return to home base for a year #now THAT was an adventure #rambles from the bog #wh fantasy au #the neighborhood is known for being capable and very helpful #so theyre lowkey celebrities! theyre the pride of their lil town <3 #but yeah their skills and time tends to be in high demand #people will sometimes send their requests specifically to howdy's tavern #in the hopes of the neighborhood picking it up #but yeah honestly they do more Unpaid stuff than paid #they're always doing a coin check - who has what & can they afford a hot meal at an inn #all of them crouched in a circle counting out their collective money after a completed job #thats why theyre always happy when howdy joins - he rakes in So much extra shine #also hes their friend. but with him around they can afford to sleep in beds #oh my god howdy is the neighborhoods sugar daddy #sugarpillar....

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softpine · 5 months

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plants really are the greatest metaphor for healing... my scindapsus suffered frost damage and i had to cut most of her leaves off, but now she's growing a new one. my umbrella plant has been battling pests since the day i got her, but today she put out her first little baby stem. my aglaonema had a hard time adjusting to new conditions and dropped her lower leaves in protest, but i'm air layering the stem and she's growing new roots beautifully. my little alternanthera has systematically lost her leaves after being beat up in the mail, but the small leaves at the base of the stem are getting bigger every day.

anyway i just wanted to share some of the less than perfect realities of plant care, because they're why i love plants in the first place. every day is a new opportunity for growth. even the most damaged plants can overcome hardships and thrive again with a little love and a lot of time, and i have to believe that we can too 🥺

#sorry for being overdramatic i'm just having an emotional day and my plants are making me really happy and thankful for just. everything

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fictionadventurer · 4 months

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A Little House Sampler contains an interview between Rose and Almanzo from when Rose was trying to gather information for her book set in 1870s Dakota, and let's just say that Almanzo did not share his wife's talent for crafting detailed reminiscences.

What were the early saloons like? Saloons. Did they have mahogany bars and mirrors? Yes. Paintings behind the bar, swinging doors, frosted windows, or anything like that? Paintings, yes; swinging doors, no. Brass rails? Brass cuspidors? Yes. Were they poolrooms or were poolrooms separate places? Yes.

Half of the interview is Rose just desperately trying to pull any kind of detail out of Almanzo. Which is impressive given that she typed out the interview and mailed it to him to fill out--she must have known what her father was like.

The most voluble he gets is an entire paragraph describing the different types of prairie grass for her (based on which ones make the best hay.)

There are flashes of humor.

What was your attitude toward the local banker. He was a whole fellow. We would say, "Hello, Tom," but when it came to borrowing money, it was 3 percent a month.

We also have a surprisingly sad moment.

What in regard to your claim, gave you the most satisfaction during the first few years? I mean moments of satisfaction, such as finishing the shanty, putting up the team after the sod was broken, or seeing the wheat up, something like that. Those special times that one remembers of looking at something and feeling good. As, for instance, the day on Rocky Ridge when the first mortgage was paid off, and we said, "Now the place is ours!" It must have been a grand moment when you walked into the bank and handed that money to old man Freeman. Must have been moments like that, in homesteading. To save me, I can't remember of anything except that when we thrashed the first crop that was the best crop we ever had, but it was before we had much land broke up. My life has been mostly disappointments.

I also really like this last question because it's drives home that this is just a daughter talking to her dad.

If I know you, you had a fit of extravagance now and then. What did you spend money on? When you had it in you pocket and just felt like spending it? Nowadays a man would buy a new car. Remember one time when you did something like that? And hardly dast face Mama Bess with whatever you'd brought? That would in the in 1880s, but it's all the same if it was something you could have bought in 1870s. Or maybe it was one time that Roy went on a spending spree, bought something you didn't have to have, but just wanted to have. I bought a top buggy in 1882. I bought a $50 nickel-plated harness in spring 1882. I am sorry I could not remember more but it has been a long time and things did not impress me when they happened like they did some people.

That last line sums up the situation pretty well. But when you're looking into the background of a series put together by two women, it is fun to see the man of the household get a chance to speak for himself.

#little house #rose wilder lane #almanzo wilder #history is awesome #imagine my shock when i was casually looking up rose's books #and found there was a whole extra little house book i'd never heard of #it got published with the checkered bordered cover and everything #(though my library copy is older than that)

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dreaming-of-mossballs · 2 months

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Happy New Year, Captain. - (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: The Captain of the Silvermane Guards is away for a military expedition. Although he isn’t here to celebrate the new year with the rest of Belobog, you’re determined to make sure he knows he’s loved. By both you and everyone around him.

▸ Genre(s): fluff

▸ Word Count: 7k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions

A/N: This is part of my florist!reader series, but can be read as a one-shot. Check the masterlist for more! If it’s broken (I swear to fuckijg god—) you can use the tag search function. Type in Mossball_Writing into the search bar.

Love you all and Happy New Year! (SHUT UP I KNOW ITS FEBRUARY I MADE THIS TWO MONTHS AGO)

MASTERLIST

Midday in Belobog was as crisp as ever.

You stood in the open-air plaza of the administrative district, leaning against the wall of the quaint little newspaper shop.

Vaska— your co-worker and friend at the Eversummer Florist’s— had her back turned to the blustery winter wind, which was only offset by the mocha-colored coat draped over her head and shoulders. Her teeth chattered like a broken phonograph, and her cheeks had been burned red by the cold. You stared at her, brow knitted worriedly.

“Hey uh… Vaska? Don’t you think it’s time we get going?”

Tilting your head at her and pulling your coat closer to your form, you gave her a sheepish smile. “We’ve been here for forty-five minutes,”

Her head shot up from where it was buried in the book grasped between her hands. The trademark green beret of the flower shop clung onto her head for dear life.

“What??” Vaska protested. “No, no, no. I’m a hair’s length from the good part! Just—,”

She resumed staring at the page again.

“—a few more pages. I swear. I can’t afford this book until next week. By the time I can get it, spoilers will be everywhere!”

You sniffled, wincing at the cold air that nipped at your nose. “If you want, I can always stuff potting soil in your ears. Free of charge, too,”

“Five more minutes,” she said, pursing her lips. “You won’t regret it,”

“Maybe I won’t, but you will,” you retorted. “Your lips are purple!”

Vaska raised a mitten in a visual effort to block your words. “I can survive a cold. What I cannot survive, however, is someone SPOILING the long-awaited sequel to Tale of the Winterlands,” Your friend tossed her head dramatically, causing strands of light brown hair to catch on her eyes and mouth. She spat them out indignantly.

You lowered your head, dragged your palms over your cheeks, and let your jaw go slack with a groan.

“Fine. You win. Just let me get my mail in the meantime, okay?”

Vaska whipped her head towards you with sparkles in her eyes. “(Y/N),” she gasped. “You’re a godsend!”

You promptly turned your heels and headed off in the direction of city hall, chuckling to yourself as you went. You remembered the way you used to bounce with excitement every time a new mining robot was delivered to your division and you got the honor of testing it out.

We all deserve to be a little giddy about our hobbies sometimes. She works as hard as I do, if not more.

You felt the corners of your lips rise into a smile as you strolled briskly next to the flower beds lining the sidewalk. Aside from a thin coating of frost, they looked bright and lively against the backdrop of the yellow brick wall.

Ah. First snow. I wonder if Gepard has had any luck resurrecting those, you pondered, bending over to peer at them. You lifted your head, only to jolt backward at the sight of familiar (and dashing) blue eyes in front of you.

“OHMYAEONS—“ you shrieked before clamping your hands over your mouth.

But a wave of disappointment soon swept over you. Those eyes you longed to see so badly were merely the centerpiece of a poster, advertising recruitment for the Silvermane Guards. Gepard’s eyes stared imposingly at the plaza behind you.

The artist did a really good job capturing his likeness. You sighed. It was almost uncanny how accurate the determination in his face was.

You rested a hand against the worn parchment, trailing it over a caption that read, ‘You are the pride of the Architects. Help defend their city! Join the Silvermane Guards Today!’, and ‘Great dental benefits!’

Of course, you knew that the reality was far less than glamorous.

Your friend, Gepard Landau, the Captain of the Silvermane Guards and a Belobogian noble, had been away on a mission for a month and a half fighting the Fragmentum. You’d had your fair share of run-ins with the monsters birthed from the residue of a stellaron. They dragged their feet and uttered ghastly moans as they wandered about the abandoned sectors of your hometown. You were immediately swept into the undercurrent of anxiety as images of threats he had to face began to bubble up within your brain.

To quell the simmering fear inside you, you slapped your face lightly with your mittened hands.

He’s perfectly fine! He’s the captain, for Qlipoth’s sake. He’s probably been on the field since he was able to walk, you exhaled heavily, your worries escaping into the air in the form of a small cloud of condensation.

Doesn’t change the fact that I miss him, though,

You weren’t allowed to contact Gepard. No one was, for fear of compromising military safety. Since the Fragmentum managed to attach itself to automatons, there was a possibility that they could receive unfiltered transmissions and determine the location of the troops. The thought in itself made your skin prickle.

Shaking yourself to clear the pangs of loss from your chest, you rounded the corner to City Hall, or the Administrative Office, or as others called it.

It had an air of business about it, maybe due to the constant stream of robed officials streaming out from its doors. They all barked orders at each other— filled with unnecessarily complicated words, you might add—, and pushed up their glasses in the same way. It bored you to death. But until you could get a permanent residence on the Surface, you’d have to keep collecting your mail from this labyrinth of grumpy office workers.

But today, you could hardly see the grilled glass doors past a crowd of people. Through the rapid chatter and the collision of bodies, you heard an official’s voice you recognized,

Manya.

You raised yourself on the balls of your feet to get a better look. Her hair, the color of artificially minty ice cream was frizzy and unkempt, and her thickly framed glasses were taped together at the end piece. Her words barely made it past the clamor of the crowd.

“If you want to register for a—“ She grunted in pain sharply. “Ugh! Esteemed citizen, please stop elbowing me. If you want to sign up for a telephone time, please form a single file line to the right of the lamp post. I repeat, the right,”

Any attempt to take a step forward was futile. You immediately got jostled by a heavyset woman from the right, causing you to collide with the metal bearings of someone’s briefcase. Ouch.

Against all odds, Manya’s piercing red eyes landed on you.

“Manya—?” You raised your voice, hoping to reach her above the crowd. “What’s—,”

She pushed through the throngs of people while her robes billowed with fury. Her hand grasped your forearm, harshly enough that you thought it might bruise, and proceeded to drag you into the building, which was heated with Geomarrow lamps and the sweat of panicking managers. It looked like a scene in a thriller opera, where the vengeful protagonist tears an office apart looking for information about his father’s killer.

Manya practically shoved you into the wall of cluster box units. “Get it—,” she hissed, “—and go,”

“Yeesh,” you exclaimed, fiddling with the key to your mailbox (and nearly dropping it in the meantime). “Can I at least ask what the commotion is all about?”

She turned around from where she was stalking off, a vein on her forehead suddenly becoming more pronounced.

“I do have matters to attend to, but I suppose it’s my duty to attend to the concerns of the citizens, no matter how trivial they may be,” she replied through gritted teeth. “For the new year, Qlipoth Fort allows citizens to contact family in the Guards using their telecommunications system,”

You widened your eyes as she continued.

“Although, they haven’t quite flushed out the system yet. The one for organizing time slots. It’s like herding warp trotters,”

“Um,” you paused. “Okay, how would you sign up for a time then?”

She grimaced. “Oh, not you too. Are you actually interested in one or just curious? Because I think I might burst a blood vessel if—,”

“I am interested, I swear!” You cut in. “I know I’m usually just curious, but I wouldn’t waste your time at a time as hectic as this,”

You’d think a City Hall official would actually enjoy answering questions, you muttered inwardly.

Manya sighed heavily. “Fine. Take a ticket from the dispenser outside and wait in line. When you’re called, they have a form you can fill out to make an appointment to speak with your family member,”

And as quick as she came, Manya spun on her heels and went back to managing the crowd at the door. You collected your mail and did as she ordered. The mass of people had since gathered into a more manageable line, although it was anything but single-file. Peering at the ticket, which was printed in very light ink, you were able to discern the number you were given. 122. You squinted your eyes in order to make out the fine print and gasped.

“Expected three hours until service?!?” You choked out.

Well, in that case, I can get back to Vaska, you shrugged. On your way out, you spotted a few complimentary hand warmers stationed at the front desk, along with the latest edition of the* Crystal* Daily at the front counter.

“Actually… you wouldn’t mind if I took some of these, right?” You inquired the bleary-eyed receptionist.

He blinked tiredly in response.

“Sweet. Have a good day,”

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Vaska was looking a little worse for wear when you got back. It had been less than ten minutes, but she had chosen a foldable sign as cover and was squatting behind it. Her green eyes flicked upwards as she heard the plodding of your boots towards her.

“How’s the book so far?” You said, glancing around at the passerby before joining her on the ground.

“(Y/N), if I’m being honest with you,” she paused. “I am so happy I could literally die right now,”

Vaska stared at you stone-faced before her expression became giddy. She pressed the book close to her chest, squealing with glee.

“Whoa there, don’t you think that’s a little extreme?” You said, amused.

“Not in the slightest,” she swooned. “Oh Artem, I missed him so much! His fiery passion hasn’t dimmed a bit,” she stated dramatically while fanning herself with her hand (Which she immediately regretted, as it was the middle of winter).

“Oh Vaska, you’re blushing so hard you could melt a glacier,” you teased.

“Two glaciers,” she corrected you matter-of-factly. Her eyes widened as a sudden shadow fell over the two of you. Fizz, the girl who manned the desk at the newspaper shop, was standing with her hands on her hips, blotting out the sun reflecting off the snow-covered buildings.

“While I do appreciate a fellow Tales fan,” she mused. “This is beginning to get a bit concerning. If you guys aren’t going to make a purchase, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. Sorry!”

Vaska’s soul seemed to leave her body that very moment.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “That’s fine! We’re sorry for overstaying our welcome. I know you have a business to run here,”

“No worries, you two! I’d give it to you, but a girl’s gotta put food on the table,” Fizz shrugged. “I’m pleased you’re interested though,”

Fizz’s cheerful demeanor did little to ease Vaska’s thousand-yard stare.

As soon as you got far enough from the newspaper stand, the onslaught of your co-worker’s crushing despair was unstoppable. She crumpled to the cobblestone-like a wad of packing paper.

You groaned as you bent over to grasp her hood, which you used as a sort of anchor point to drag her across the ground. She made a pitiful sound that resembled a mouse being stepped on.

You sighed. “Come on. Let’s go home,”

❆ — ❆ — ❆

After tending to your wounded slug of a co-worker, you hopped downstairs to beat the frost off your jackets. Your eyes lit up as your phone rang in your apron with the signature ringtone you had assigned to Serval.

“Serval! What can I help a lovely lady such as yourself with today?” You greeted her while picking up the phone.

“Aw, you big sap!” Raucous laughter could be heard on the other side. The corners of your mouth rose into a smile.

“Molly and I just went on lunch break and I figured I’d give you a holler. Are you doing anything this Belobog Eve?”

Before you could say, “Solarflowers,” you had an answer.

“Yes, actually. I went to city hall today, and as it turns out, they’re doing this thing where you can call a loved one using the radios at Qlipoth Fort. All you have to do is sign up!”

“No way! They haven’t done that since things started getting bad in the Snow Plains,” Serval’s voice crackled. “I tried reaching them a few years back with a radio from the workshop, but Pela chewed me out, saying it was a ‘breach of military safety’,”

“Couldn’t imagine why,” you said with a snort.

“Hey, genius. I’m the main arms dealer for the Guards. I know what I’m doing,” she said, a smirk evident in her voice.

“Uh huh, uh huh,” you responded, touching your fingertips to your thumb absentmindedly. “Anyways, I signed up for a slot at ten o’clock, and I was thinking we could all go together to talk to Gepard,”

“Heck yeah! I’d really enjoy that!” Serval exclaimed. “By ‘we’, do you mean Lynx, Pela, and I?”

“You got it,” you said with a chuckle. You peered out at Qlipoth Fort through the windowpanes of the flower shop, the sunlight warming your face. “It’s alright if they can’t make it though. I know you’ve all got your plates full with all that military jargon,”

“Nonsense,” she tutted. “It’d be outrageous if they didn’t let us off for the New Year and… I’ll be honest with you, (Y/N). Sometimes us military folk are so caught up in our own business, we forget to connect with each other. It’s really nice to have you here to remind us we’re human too,”

You stifled a squeal of glee that was welling up in your throat. “Ah—“ you stuttered at the compliment. “I’m not sure how to respond to that. Just glad I can help out, I guess,”

Serval snickered. “Don’t worry your little heart about it. I’ll make sure we all be there. Meet you outside Qlipoth Fort an hour before?”

“Sure. See you soon!” You chirped.

She chuckled. “Rock on, (Y/N)!”

❆ — ❆ — ❆

The Belobog sky was especially mesmerizing that night, you thought.

It had a comforting simplicity you’d grown to appreciate ever since arriving on the surface. Every smattering of white against the royal blue backdrop seemed to hold your gaze as you wondered; just how old was that light reaching your eyes?

Some of the tapestries hung around the city attempted to emulate this feeling of smallness. They were woven with silk as if to imitate that same heaviness the night sky had.

Whilst you gazed at the stars, notes of soft jazz floated down from the balconies above the city where a group of street musicians were playing. You could feel the tremors of the bass beneath your feet thrumming slightly like a heartbeat, as the night ambiance blanketed you in a figurative sort of warmth.

Aeons, your neck was beginning to hurt.

“Hey— Jarilo-VI to (Y/N)—,” Serval’s voice reverberated loudly in your left ear.

A yelp of surprise sprang from your throat as you jolted away. Serval, Lynx, and Pela were standing directly in front of you, evidently enough they had been for some time.

“We were worried we’d be late because we were tuning up the instruments for a New Years show, but it seems like our worries were unwarranted,” Serval laughed, shrill and high. The lamplight glinted off of her multitude of metal accessories.

“Ack! You guys—,” you blurted. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?!”

“You seemed very intent on keeping your eyes glued to the sky,” Pela pushed her glasses up thoughtfully, trying to hide her labored breath. She looked disheveled, as if she had run here.

Lynx sided closer to you with wide eyes. “Perhaps… you observed an anomaly?”

You chuckled. “No, nothing of the sort. I was just thinking that the star I was looking at was really bright,”

She hummed in response— the ears on her adorable fluffy hat bouncing side to side— and reached for your forearm, raising it to point at the same patch of sky you were looking at before.

“Ah, that star?” Lynx closed one eye to better align her field of view with your own. “That’s Altair. The one underneath the edge of the Tundra Star System,”

“Altair? That’s a pretty unusual name,”

“Yep. I heard it came from somewhere far away, from a small planet called Earth. They believed this particular star was waiting to reunite with another,”

You paused in thought for a moment, the silence causing the other two to tilt their heads.

What a cute little story.

Maybe these kinds of stories were easier to think up when you’d lived under the stars all your life. But even before the Underworld had closed, all you had of the sky were distant, blurry memories. These ideas struck an unfamiliar chord within you.

“Does it ever meet the other star?”

“I’m not certain,” Lynx mused. “The only other star we know of that fits the legend died a long, long time ago unfortunately,”

“Aw,” you pouted. “That’s a shame,”

Pela cleared her throat. “I hate to ruin an intellectual conversation such as this, but it’s in our best interest to get going. The line is already growing at the top of Qlipoth Fort,”

“You can see that??” You squinted. “Crud. I got you guys some gifts but those will have to wait,”

Pela nodded. “Yes, let’s hurry while we—,”

Your face split into a wide grin. “Race ya!”

You dug the soles of your shoes in and ran straight for the stairs to Qlipoth Fort. The others followed suit, a string of indignant shouts and laughter echoing into the night air.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

If being in the mines had been stifling, that was nothing compared to the crowds outside the Fort. Red-faced officials cupped their hands and yelled in an attempt to be heard over the clamor of the mob. You spotted Manya leaning against a wall, any light she once had in her eyes totally gone.

“—a line! Get into three lines! Please for the love of the Preservation—,” someone shouted.

Pela received a particularly hard bump to the shoulder, sending her hurtling directly into your rib cage with a squeak. Through the midst of the chaos, you caught a glimpse of Serval’s arm, adorned with wristbands, flailing a ways away. She pried the people in front of her apart with vigor; a grunt that sounded like a creaking glacier erupted from her mouth to the shock of the strangers closest to her.

“Hold tight you two!” She ordered. “I’m trained to deal with this— you’ve seen Luka, right?”

“And just how is that supposed to be relevant??” You barked back before a stray elbow caught you in the face. You let out a pained grunt and held your nose.

Serval’s face peeked over the crowd as she wove closer to you. “His boxing stance— do that. Arms in front of your face, legs a shoulder-width apart. It’s saved a few of my concert-goers from gettin’ crushed,”

You did as she instructed; the next time someone jostled you and Pela, you felt far less shaken up. Swiveling your head, you realized something was off.

“Hey, has anyone seen Lynx?”

You scanned the crowd for her signature blue hat but to no avail.

“Lynx? Lynx???” Pela called frantically. Out of the blue, you spotted a small figure clad in blue and purple clinging to one of the pillars supporting the overhanging roof of the fort. Lynx looked unbothered, a red rope anchored around the pillar and her feet planted firmly into the side in a classic climber’s stance.

Well, that’s one way to get around it, you shook your head vigorously. The hair on your neck stood up as the speakers belonging to the fort’s PA system crackled to life.

“Attention, Belobog citizens,” a male voice announced. “We’re aware that it has been a few years since the Fort has been able to do this, but please refrain from physically assaulting each other… And to the climber on the right-hand side of the building, that was clever, but this is not the Snow Plains,”

A good-humored chuckle rippled through the crowd. Finally, officials were able to sort attendees into lines depending on what time their call was. You were able to take a long, relaxing breath and bask in the warmth of the heaters surrounding the building, your chest rising and falling as you rested the back of your head against the wall. Serval hummed contentedly beside you as Pela combed through her book.

Blinking your eyes open, your hands darted for your leather messenger bag.

“Oh! About those gifts I got you guys… here!” You tossed the items one by one to your companions. “Glasses straps for Pela… a multi-tool for Serval… and fish pot warmers for Lynx!”

Serval’s eyes sparkled as she fiddled with out the multi-tool, and then proceeded to fill with tears of laughter as you wrapped a scarf around Lynx’s head so that only her eyes were showing, and she waved her quilted fish hands around like some sort of pot warmer ninja. The deadpan expression on her face made the whole ordeal even funnier.

“You know…” you spoke up. “We oughta meet up for holidays more often,”

“Too right!” Serval nodded with a bright smile. You honestly thought you could wait there forever with them, laughing and talking like this.

However, you would find that possibility was closer than it seemed.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

“Hey uh— Pela, do you have a watch?” You asked after some time had passed.

“Yes, why?” She replied.

“I just think it’s been a little longer than an hour,” you said offhandedly, flicking your gaze to the side.

Maybe you were just impatient. From your fast-paced life in the mines, of course. (Not because your heart was swelling with more anticipation than it could handle.)

“Erm…” she peered closely at her gilded watch. “No, you’re right, (Y/N). It’s been an hour and 45 minutes,”

You let out a withering sigh as Lynx piped up.

“Maybe there’s a holdup? There’s a lot of people, after all. If one person goes a minute over, the entire schedule gets pushed back a minute,”

“Yeah… that sounds about right, I guess,” you shrugged. Waiting a little more wouldn’t hurt, you supposed.

That is until another 45 minutes passed with you four waiting in the cold.

“Aeons, I am SO. HUNGRY.” Serval pounded her fist lightly on the wall. “What in the Snow Plains is going on in there??”

“Didn’t you get something to eat before you came here?” Pela quipped.

“Yes, but waiting makes me pretty damn hungry,” she groaned. Her stomach growled in agreement.

Lynx looked up at her sister from where she was sitting by a fire hastily scraped together. She outstretched her arm, a tin of sardines in the palm of her hand.

“Thanks, Lynxy,” Serval said wistfully. Her eyes shot open as the large mahogany door to the fort creaked open. An aide accompanied by two guards stepped out into the turmoil.

“Attention, Citizens of Belobog,” she droned. “I know you may be confused as to why this is taking so long. Well… we’ve received reports that the line connecting our radios to the Silvermane camp has been taken out by the high winds. We’re not sure if it will be able to be repaired tonight, but, you are welcome to stay if you are able,”

And with that announcement, the aide whisked inside, her robes trailing behind her as the crowd began to clamor in anger.

“You have got to be kidding,” Serval hissed. Pela nodded, her eye twitching with irritation. “If— if they had trusted me with the handling of the tech division—,”

You stopped listening as your hands fell to your sides in exasperation. But out of the corner of your eye, through the blurry silhouettes of people fettering away for the night— you caught a small but unmistakable glimpse of sadness on Lynx’s face.

Her face was downturned, her nose, scrunched up. You remember making that face in Natasha’s clinic as you did your best not to break down in front of her.

Placing a hand on Serval’s shoulder as waves of anger rolled off her, you spoke up.

“We’re staying,”

“Stay—? I can’t believe they just blew everyone off like that!” Serval snorted, followed by a sigh. “Why don’t we go to the workshop and break out one of my old radios?”

Pela shook her head frantically, curtains of her indigo hair flying everywhere. “We should definitely not do that. The logistics that that would succeed are very, very, low. Also—,”

“Not everyone is leaving,” you commented. You swiveled your head around. At least fifty of the original 120+ people remained. (Belobogians couldn’t be deterred that easily, you supposed.)

You glanced down at Lynx out of the corner of your eye. “If there’s even the off chance that they can get them working again, I want to try. I’ll even run to the florists to make us some sandwiches!”

Serval paused, seeming to think this was adequate.

“Hmph… You know I can’t pass up a good sandwich,” she put her hands on her hips with a smile. “And, you’re right. Maybe we’ll have a better chance of getting in touch with him if we stay,”

“That’s right,” You smiled. “Now, I’ll go take the trolley real quick. Call me if they fix them!”

❆ — ❆ — ❆

A few of the amenities you brought back included: a large wool blanket, a picnic basket with sandwiches and cookies, and the hand warmers you had grabbed earlier, which were especially for when the queue moved away from the heaters.

Serval was right. Waiting did make you hungry. You licked your lips contentedly after fishing a chilled veggie salad wrap. With your belly full and your body finally warm for the first time that night, you nearly drifted off to sleep until the doors flung open once more.

“Alright, everyone. We’ve gotten permission to fire communications up again. Thank you for being patient,” the same lady from earlier announced. “Please come this way and form a single-file line,”

Your head whipped around in confusion from the sudden turn of events.

“What happened? Just how long was I out?” You inquired Lynx.

“Approximately seven minutes,” she stated. “It’s around 23:50 right now,” The golden-haired girl turned away from you and darted into the building, along with Serval.

Things are finally coming along, you smiled to yourself.

In contrast to the curt PSA earlier, the inside of the Fort was well-rounded with good customer service. It ran like a freshly oiled automaton, with workers directing attendees to different booths, each with a trained operator. The room was filled with chatter echoing off the tiled floor and the sounds of dial tones coming from the radios, which were large blocks of metal with a handheld receiver attached by a wire.

The operator at your booth handed you the radio first, much to your surprise. The other line picked up with a slight buzz of static. Your heart began to race.

“Who would you like to speak to?” The voice on the other end crackled.

“Ah— Gepard Landau, please. Is he available?” You said, with a little less confidence than you’d have liked.

“The Captain? I’m sorry, but I don’t think we have the security clearance for that—,”

Serval vaulted across the table in the booth and grabbed the phone.

“Tory? Tory is that you?? We need to speak to Gepard,”

Pause.

“Like, right this instant. Could you go get him? Thanks. No— if anyone asks tell them I told you to do it. Now go get him!”

She smiled self-satisfactorily, sat down, and tossed the receiver to you while kicking her legs up. You swore you saw a bead of sweat roll down the operator’s face as you fumbled with the device— it was only saved by your pinkie miraculously hooking on the wire.

You tilted your body closer to Lynx and Pela as you listened to the sounds of idle chatter on the other end.

“[—for me?]”

You knew that voice. Your heart leaped as you held the receiver closer to your face.

“[Ahem— Hello?]”

“Why— yes. Um— h-hello!” You blurted out, caught off guard. You craned your head away from the radio with a start towards the jittery-looking operator. “Is there any way to turn this thing up?” You hissed.

“Yes, but please take care not to be too loud,” He rotated a dial at the top of the radio as your group sided closer together.

“[(Y/N)? Is that you?]” You caught a note of surprise in Gepard’s voice, which also had an edge of roughness to it as if he had been shouting orders earlier that day.

“Yep. Not just me though. We got Serval, Pela, and Lynx here too!” You smiled, making eye contact with the others. “Say ‘hi’ everyone!”

A chorus of greetings rang out, the words “big brother” and “Captain Gepard” sneaking into the mix.

“Geppie! So happy to hear from you,” Serval’s blue eyes sparkled as she chimed in. “How’s it holding up out there?”

“Ah, hello, Serval. I’m glad to see you’re doing well,”

Gepard wasted no time getting her up to date, just like a military briefing. You stood by, perplexed.

“We’re working hard to clear up the remaining Fragmentum. The weather has been on the unpredictable side, and it’s caused some of the tech to freeze over, but it’s nothing the Guards can’t handle. At the rate we’re going, we might finish early,”

You let out a small cheer.

He continued. “I hope you and Pela aren’t too swamped before the new year,”

“Hardly,” said Pela, who was pushing up her glasses. “Lady Bronya has done a wonderful job of managing the workload in the intelligence division,”

“That’s no small relief. How about you, Lynx? You’re not doing anything risky in the Snow Plains, are you?”

The golden-haired girl’s shoulders dropped petulantly. “Yes, brother. Our team is doing quite adequately, and it will continue that way as long as I am leading it. Don’t worry about me,”

Her cheeks began to puff up. You smiled. No one had ever worried about you like that before. (Although now that you had Vaska, all the worrying was done for you.)

Lynx handed the phone to Pela first, who cycled through her greetings in a somewhat robotic manner. Next came Serval, whom the operator had to tell to quiet down more than four times. It seemed that their banter never ceased even when they hadn’t seen each other for a whole month. Maybe she was taking this time to catch up, you thought to yourself. She nearly shouted goodbye at him by the time Pela had the sense to drag her away from the table.

You reached for the handheld radio next, confused at where to place your fingers because it was nothing like a traditional phone—

“[Ahem. Ahem— is this thing working? Captain, can you hear me?],” A pause. “[It’s Bronya,]”

Pela’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. You held the phone in your outstretched hand awkwardly as you eyes the others to see if they’d tell you what to do.

“[Lady Bronya, it’s a pleasure. I hope all is well in Belobog?]” Gepard inquired.

Bronya held steadfast conviction in her voice that struck you to your core.

“[As well is it could be, Captain, much due to your unyielding diligence in the Snow Plains,]”

You heard him exhale through his nose slightly. “[I’m not sure I deserve a compliment so grand, but I appreciate it nonetheless, Lady Bronya,]”

You stood rooted to the ground as you heard them hurl very formal-sounding compliments back and forth like snowballs. It was like a soap opera.

“[Ah, and don’t let me forget. (Y/N), thank you for your routine delivery of flowers to Qlipoth Fort. It really does boost morale,]” Bronya said.

Your heart swelled with pride. “It’s no matter at all, Lady Bronya,”

Something compelled you to bow to no one in particular. When you raised your head, more than one person had a raised eyebrow at your spectacle. Serval picked up on your sheepishness and leaned in close, her breath tickling your ear.

“I may have clued her in a bit,” she whispered to you. You covered your mouth with a devious smile.

“[Now, I’ll have to let you go now. There are a few last-minute orders I have to take care of. I wish you all a Happy New Year,]”

“You too, Lady Bronya!” Everyone cheered.

What an honor it was for the Supreme Guardian to grace you with her voice— you swooned. Oh dear. Is this how all Surface-dwellers felt?

It must be contagious, you thought as you wiped your forehead nervously.

“A-anyways, Lynx, how about you take the phone now?”

“Me—? Oh,” she seemed startled.

She picked it up gingerly. “Hi, big brother,”

Something about the way her voice sounded made you take a small step away from the table.

“[You sound healthy, Lynx,]” the Captain said with a softness to his voice you weren’t familiar with. “[Is everything all right there? How is father?]”

Lynx seemed to cradle the radio in the crook of her neck like a penguin would its chick.

“Yes, everything is fine, I— uhh— sorry,”

She paused for a moment, seeming to have lost the words she wanted to say. His voice filled the silence she left.

“[I hope you all know I do miss you, and I’m happy you decided to call,]”

Lynx’s eyes were locked on the table and you could see her feelings churning inside of her. You reached towards the radio slowly, turning down the dial that controlled the volume, and motioned to the others to take a few steps away.

Whatever Lynx wanted to say was her business and her business alone. You could wait a bit.

For a few minutes, she whispered into the phone, her eyes still downcast. When she called you all back over, her cheeks were tinted light pink and it was almost as if a large weight had been taken off of her shoulders.

The orange-haired operator interrupted your moment of bliss. “That was a nice gesture… but please don’t touch the radios,” he pleaded with you.

Your cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. Oops.

You grinned sheepishly, turning back to the radio as the others gathered around you once more.

“So… Gepard,”

The sound of clanking metal reached your ear as you looked off to the side. You could almost imagine him leaning in with that trademark intent expression on his face.

“I’m happy we were able to reach you today,” you spoke, a smile creeping into your voice.

“We really, really miss you. It’s because of you that we’re able to gather here today safe and sound,”

How badly you wished you could see him right now.

“We wanted to wish you a happy new year, so—,”

You cut off for a moment to build up anticipation. Everyone’s eyes were trained on you as you dipped your head down with laser focus and mouthed a countdown to them.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Happy New Year—,”

“Gepard!”

“Geppie!”

“Captain!”

“Elder brother!”

The other families at the other booths looked at you quizzically as a wave of silence swept over the high-ceilinged room.

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “Anyways, we’re almost out of time! Keep fighting hard out there, okay?”

“[Thank you. May the new year bring us prosperity,]” he said with steadfast resolve.

You smiled a soft smile, one filled with so much longing that you could no longer put into words.

“It will, I’m sure of it,”

“[Wait, (Y/N), listen closely. They’re firing the cannons,]”

They’re what?

Your next breath never made it past your throat. The faraway boom of three cannons firing reached your ears, followed by the raucous cheers of soldiers.

“[Happy New Year,]”

And with that, the dial on the side of the radio rang, signaling that your time was up.

You glanced at the group around you in the silence that followed. Lynx’s eyelashes were slightly wet.

“Well, I guess we should get going then,” you sighed.

“We didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Seval pouted, crossing her arms. “We’ll have to make up for it later when he comes back,”

Lynx and Pela nodded, gathering their belongings and pushing open the door to the chilly night air of Belobog.

You trailed behind the others as you exited the building, glancing up at the sky one last time. It wasn’t often you were out long enough for the lights of the city to finally dim and give you a splendid view of the nighttime theatre.

The others turned around, hearing you gasp out loud. A streak of light filled your vision, passing right next to the bright star you were looking at earlier. Than another. And another.

“Guys— look, it’s a star shower!” You pointed excitedly at the sky and spun around quickly; which in turn, caused your messenger bag to hit Pela in the face.

“Now that’s a stellar lookin’ sky if I’ve ever seen one,” Serval raised her hand above her eyes and laughed as you apologized profusely to Pela.

Now, you wondered, was Gepard seeing this too? It was the same sky, after all.

Lynx bounded up to you excitedly and with a slight smile, asked,

“Do you have a wish?”

A wish?

“I think…” you rested a hand on your chin thoughtfully.

“My wish? I want all of us to be safe and happy… For many, many years to come,”

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Bonus scene:

As you all went your separate ways, you noticed the light at the newspaper stand was still on.

You moseyed your way over there and rapped on the shutters with a fist.

“Hello? Is anyone still there?”

A shuffle and a groan was heard. Fizz, the bookkeeper, rose from behind a pile of boxes rubbing her eyes roughly.

“Oh! Aeons—,” you couldn’t stop yourself from exclaiming. “Are you okay??”

“Urgh…” Fizz stumbled over to the counter and checked her watch. “I must have fallen asleep while reading. I should have closed up four hours ago!” She groaned again. “What can I help you with?”

You stammered for a second. “I’m not sure if this is the appropriate time to ask, but do you have any of the sequel to Tale of the Winterlands?”

“Ah, I’m afraid we don’t. I can check when the next shipment is coming in though,” she replied helpfully. Fizz pushed aside a sheaf of papers. “Oh?”

You peered over the counter inquisitively.

“It looks like we do have one,” she said, matter-of-factly, turning back to you. “You want it?”

“Yes, please!” You bounced on your heels.

“That’ll be 2,500 credits. Would you like a bag?” She bent over to grab a notepad for your receipt.

You nodded. Fizz handed the book to you, taking less than a minute to prepare a card and tissue paper. She obviously had a lot of experience under her belt.

She handed the brown paper bag to you and you took off towards the hills.

“Thanks!” You shouted back at her. “Happy New Year!”

“You too,” Fizz said as she watched you sprint like a soldier coming home.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Quiet as a mouse, you discarded your boots after entering the florist’s and started towards the back, not bothering to turn the lights on. Everyone was likely already asleep— the shop was all closed up for the night and the plants were bathed in comforting blue moonlight.

You climbed the small spiral staircase to the second floor where everyone slept, wincing as the floorboards creaked. You could spy a small sliver of light emanating from the bedroom you and Vaska shared.

Tapping the door lightly with your fingertips, you opened it. Vaska was in the midst of getting up to answer the door; she had a small candle in her hands and her favorite book lay on the hardwood floor. You didn’t even have to look at the cover to recognize the trademark dog-eared pages and dirt stains.

“(Y/N)!” She whispered. “Where on Jarilo-VI were you??”

“I’ll tell you in the morning, as I’ve had quite the eventful night,” you chuckled. “On the other hand, I got you something!”

You hoisted out the brown paper bag decorated with simple printed patterns to her. She took it from you and peeked inside.

A glass jar of popping candy and a book lay at the bottom of the bag. You watched in real time as she forgot how to breathe.

Vaska pulled the book out with one hand. Glanced at you. Glanced at the book again. She made a sound resembling a whistling kettle and flung herself at you with the force of a soldier, wrapping her arms around you.

“Shh—! Vaska, it’s like, one in the morning. If the boss hears you, you’ll be DEAD,”

You shot a warning glance towards the door. Thankfully, no sound was heart at the end of the hallway, where Meg’s quarters were.

She sniffled, her grip as tight as iron. “I’ll die happy then,”

You sighed. You patted the back of her head in the crook of your arm. How lucky you were to have a friend like her.

“Now, let’s get some sleep, shall we?”

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

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