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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃
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𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐍 .ᐟ
first meetings are always the spark to a flame.
ᯓ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 .ᐟ argenti, sunday, boothill, blade, aventurine + jing yuan x fem!reader (separate), feat. march, dan heng, himeko, kafka, madam yukong.
ᯓ 𝐜𝐰 .ᐟ alcohol consumption, mentions of blood/violence, SFW, boy did i have some fun with sunday's one, blade's one is ass but moving on, this took me way too long to write, 6.3k words 💀, idk if this has been done before (probably), rbs are appreciated!! <3
ᯓ ARGENTI .ᐟ
𝐎𝐇 𝐁𝐎𝐘. Never in your life had you been so flustered over a mere compliment—but, really, no one could blame you. Having such a man of unparalleled beauty himself flatter you with flowery words and praises? Not only that, but with the most sincere, earnest expression on his face while he said such things? Falling in love had never been so easy.
“This rose, one possessing such quiet, enrapturing beauty itself, falls pathetically short in comparison to you, my lady,” the knight had remarked silkily, all while presenting said ‘pathetic’ rose to you confidently. He was stooped into a gentlemanly bow, one of his gauntleted hands placed over his armoured chest, those sparkling green eyes of his intense and filled with true candour. “It is like starlight follows your every step, so dazzling and captivating—a sight no person in their right mind would be able to banish from their thoughts.”
“I…” You hadn’t the slightest clue what to say. To be bombarded with such ornate compliments (on a normal day, you’d consider them painfully cheesy) and gazed at with two earnest jade eyes—well. It left you utterly speechless. With only a trembling hand responding to him and reaching out to accept the flower, you flicked a frantic glance in Himeko's direction. But she looked on in great amusement, hiding her giggles behind an elegant hand. This knight should be showering her with compliments here! Himeko’s the gorgeous one! Awkward, baffled silence from your fellow Express members suffocated the atmosphere. Your cheeks were burning. “My goodness, I…I’ve never received such high praise from someone as handsome as yourself before.” Or anyone, for that matter.
“You have not?” Once you had taken the rose, the knight of beauty, named Argenti, straightened and peered down at you with such a genuinely astonished stare, as if the concept of no one ever having complimented you was completely foreign and bizarre to him. “I do believe that is the most outlandish thing I’ve heard for a very long time. Such a lovely young woman such as yourself, one who I quake at even having the honour of being in the presence of, has never received her due praise? What has this universe come to?”
“I, uh, have no idea.” You twirled the rose gently in your fingers, noting its thornless stem. It smelled very nice, and it was evident the man before you took great care of his (seemingly endless) supply of flowers. “But, thank you very much, Sir Argenti. you have made my day.”
In fact, you wanted to cry from embarrassment and joy at the knight’s abrupt onslaught of lauds for you. You didn’t think yourself worthy.
And then he did something most unexpected. He took your hand in his large, gauntleted one ever so gently, as if it were a soft, fragile petal of a rose, and placed a gentlemanly kiss to the top of it. You could hear March gasp in shock, and the sound of a phone camera going off. Oh, they’re going to tease me about this for a long, long time. Argenti parted his lips from the top of your hand, but he did not straighten, remaining hovered over it while gazing up at you with two intense green eyes. “Truly, I tell you, it makes my heart soar to know I have, but—will you grant me the honour of keeping me company during my stay?”
“I—I’m sorry?”
Argenti finally stood straight again, but he brought your hand up higher so he could place another peck to the top of it, if need be. “I shall, regrettably, remain aboard this extraordinary train only temporarily. However, if you were to allow me the privilege to befriend you throughout my brief visit here, I would be utterly overjoyed.”
Tongue-tied, you sneaked a glance in March’s direction, and she caught your eye, immediately flailing around and frantically gesturing for you to say yes. Dan Heng stood at her side, his usually aloof, blank expression now showing a rare expression of bewilderment at Argenti’s antics and flowery words toward you, and he nodded along with March.
Pressing your lips together anxiously, you finally managed a nod. “Sir Argenti, I believe it would, in fact, be my honour to keep you company amid your stop here.”
Happiness brightened the Knight of Beauty’s previously tentative expression, and he pressed another soft kiss to the top of your hand, closing his eyes. “Words could never efficiently suffice to convey the bliss I feel at your affirmation. My lady, how eternally honoured I am to have met you throughout the vast, endless cosmos, where such a beautiful soul as yourself is so hard to come by.”
ᯓ SUNDAY .ᐟ
𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑 of a man was one you either got off on the right foot with, or you didn’t. There was simply no in between. In contrast, his angel of a sister was much easier to befriend, considering her naturally sweet temperament, but her brother…well, to say the least, you could not stand the man upon your first introduction to him.
It was at a rather illustrious event, one you could only attend because of your own family’s status. The invitations were sent to your father three months ago, all the way from penacony and into your own homeworld, one lightyears from the planet of festivities. Your father thought this a great opportunity to speak personally about business with the renowned Mr. Sunday—a man with the slyness of a fox and the stillness of a snake.
Yes, his handsome features and suave manner were truly appealing, but that didn’t take away your simmering urge to splash your glass of SoulGlad all over that exorbitant off-white three-piece lapel suit of his. And, oh, yes, he was so polite and charming and refined, but the way he looked at you made your cheeks heat and blood boil.
Golden eyes with the softness of a rock. Utterly unreadable, unpredictable. But you tolerated him, because relations between the head of the Oak Family and your father took priority well over your own inimical sentiments for the man. Also, his sister Robin, the famed and beautiful singer all across the cosmos, had become a quick friend of yours. The vast difference in personality between the sibling duo was baffling.
“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” Sunday had pleasantly greeted, smoothly taking your gloved hand and placing a gentlemanly, polite, and brief kiss to the top of it. “Miss [Name].”
“No, the honour is all mine.” At first, you thought him nice enough, rather taken with the way he so facilely, amiably kissed your hand. You’d always liked the more traditional men, and Mr. Sunday was the embodiment of one—with his tall frame and courteous demeanour. That impression, however, did not last long.
The more the man talked, the more you disliked him. His voice was soothing and silky and full of the right amount of polite detachment fitting for a businessman of his calibre. His lips seemed to be permanently turned up at the corners, into some kind of semblance of a smile you couldn’t quite place. Almost a smirk, not quite. Something about it put you off, and drew you in. Perhaps that was the point.
“…This is not a realm for the infirm,” he was saying to your father, his champagne glass held loosely in long, attractive fingers. Ones sure to not have a single callus on them—for, you sardonically, softly scoffed into your own glass, this man was the very type to spill blood by proxy, never dirtying his own, smooth hands.
Maybe you were jumping to conclusions and making unfair judgements about this man—but, well, you just couldn’t shake the feeling that there was much more to the Head of the Oak Family than what first met the eye. Something off-putting.
“How do you mean?” Your father replied, taking a sip of his SoulGlad.
“I mean, natural selection is one to take precedence and make the choices for us, no?” You acted uninterested in the conversation as you looked away and pretended to watch the performing orchestra with rapt interest. “The law of the jungle puts each person to the test, and that all depends on your own determination, potential and, most of all, aptitude. Life is an obstacle course. It all boils down to one’s capabilities.”
“Survival of the fittest, you mean?” your father clarified, squinting at the Head of the Family, before he nodded in agreement. “Yes, yes, I quite agree. Adaptation, such a morbidly wonderful concept. It is how individuals like you and I clawed our ways to the top, if it meant our loved ones lived the lives they deserve.” And then he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, giving you a fatherly squeeze, smiling down at you. “I’ve no qualms about getting some dirt under my fingernails if it means my beloved daughter is comfortable for the rest of her life.”
“Father, you’re making it sound like you’re secretly an underground crime boss.” You jokingly arched a brow, masking your deep discomfort with the present topic of the conversation. You could feel Mr. Sunday’s golden hues boring into the side of your face intently. “You shouldn’t say such things. I think you’re both talking nonsense.”
“Ah, so you have been listening,” quipped Mr. Sunday, inclining his head toward you, gazing at you through his greyish-blue bangs and long lashes. “You do not agree with the survival of the fittest?”
“Oh, now, I do not consider myself to be a holy person, Mr. Sunday,” you elucidated, straightening your posture. “I hold no lofty ideals. But I do believe in fairness.” Ironic, as all I’ve been doing this evening is judging you. But, somehow, you felt that your judgments were not inaccurate. “I believe that for society to flourish as it should peacefully, this ‘survival of the fittest’ archetype should be discarded. Instead of using the weak as leverage for ‘getting to the top’, the ‘fittest’ should do their best to extend a hand to those clinging to the precipice for dear life, instead of letting them fall—or, even worse—kicking them to their metaphorical death. Do you understand my meaning?”
“Your words hold merit,” the Oak Family head acknowledged, staring at you from over the rim of his champagne flute. “You seem to cling tightly to your morality.”
“You do not?” You were beginning to enjoy twisting his words and testing him. Let’s see how long it’ll take until he trips up. “The holy and righteous Head of the Family cares not for principles?”
“That is not what I said at all.” Sunday seemed equally amused. “I pride myself in my integrity. That is something…you and I appear to have in common.”
“Hm.” You gazed back, unintimidated. You really did not like this man. Yes, you were attracted to him—but what man or woman wasn’t? His allure was merely one of the many tricks up his sleeve he effortlessly, unhesitatingly utilised to his advantage.
It was unfortunate that your father jumped to use the chemistry between you both as a great business tactic. “Well, then, I shall leave you both to this conversation. Such a riveting one, yes, but I fear my informant is seeking my attention. Enjoy yourselves!”
And just like that, your own shelter from the beloved Mr. Sunday was gone. Silence befell you both momentarily, before the Family head extended a hand to you, flashing a bewitching smile, so full of knives. “Now, Miss [Name]…shall we dance?”
ᯓ BOOTHILL .ᐟ
“𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 these shady parts are ideal for such a lovely young lady as yerself, darlin’.”
You didn’t look up from your whiskey glass. “Because I’m not safe from vagabonds like you?"
A raspy chuckle followed. “Hoho, a sharp tongue you have. Yeah, I’d say you ain’t far off the mark there, treasure.” The scrape of a stool being drawn out filled the silence, and the man you still hadn’t looked at took a seat next to you. “But, ya haven’t got anything to worry about around me, sugar. I ain’t one of them shirtbags.”
Shirtbags? “That’s what those…shirtbags all say.” Should I just leave? You’d almost finished your drink, anyway. “Can’t a girl have a drink in a rundown bar late at night in peace?”
“Sure she can,” was the answer. “You still ain’t safe, though. Look out for yerself.”
“What’s it to you?” You finally glanced over at the man, and his appearance immediately took you aback. Cowboy hat tipped down low over his eyes, only the slope of a nose and a shapely, smirking mouth visible. Long, grey hair split into two flowing over back with black undersides. And…metal arms. A metal-plated torso. A holster with untold ammo and a gun secured on his right hip. He had cool, dark skin-tight trousers on with spurred roper boots on his feet. You couldn’t see his eyes, but it was easy to tell he was awfully attractive.
The unknown man tilted his head slightly, revealing his only visible eye to you. His right one was fully covered by his hair. It was curious—that eye had a red pupil, with four white lines rimming it, making it appear like a target lock symbol. You blinked at him, and he grinned. This guy’s full of surprises. His teeth were sharp, jagged, like a shark’s. “Oh, sweetheart, it ain’t nothin’ to me, you’re right. But what’s wrong with extending some friendly concern for a sad-looking young woman on her third glass of whiskey?”
“How did you—” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Have you been watching me this entire time? And sad-looking? You wanna start a fight?” You brushed your coat to the side, revealing your own gun. He glanced down at it in immense amusement. “If you’re just here to cause trouble, then you can piss o—”
He held up both hands in surrender, still grinning. “Not here to cause trouble, sugar. Just here to chat. Nothin’ else, I swear. On my honour.”
You snorted. “Didn’t know you had any.”
“Hey.” His tone turned whiny, half-offended. “I’m basically actin’ as your bodyguard right now, honey. Keepin’ all these creeps in here miles away from ya because of my menacin’ energy.”
“Menacing?” You laughed derisively. “Ha! You’re a funny one, cowboy. Anyway, what’re the likes of you doing in these parts? This is a bar, not a saloon. Can’t play poker here, you know—at least, I don’t think so.”
“Har har.” The man paused and ordered some…malt juice? You looked at him weirdly. He ignored it. “Hilarious, darlin’. I ain’t your stereotypical cowboy. I go around beatin’ them IPC fudgeheads up, not smackin’ cow rumps on a ranch.”
“An outlaw, are you? Ooh, scary.” You chuckled into your shot glass. “How big’s your bounty?”
“Why? Gonna turn me in?” He leaned his cheek on one metal hand, gazing at you with an intense eye. It felt a bit weird—strangely, that target lock symbol in his eye made you feel like he’d set you in his sights. “Good luck with that one, sweetheart. People’ve been tryin’ for years.”
“Who said I was gonna turn you in?” You arched a brow at him. “I don’t care about you and your so-called bounty. You sound pretty full of yourself, cowboy.”
“When you’re a pro at evading the IPC for years on end, who wouldn’t get a little bit of a big head?”
“Pride always comes before the fall.” You took a sip of whiskey. “Biggest mistake you could possibly make is underestimating your enemy.”
“Heck, sounds like yer givin’ me some advice on how to continue runnin’ away from them IPC hooligans!” he guffawed. “Sounds like you’re already well on your merry way to becomin’ a scummy crim like me, eh, darlin’? Oho, now that’s funny.”
“What’s wrong with extending some friendly concern for a scruffy-looking cyborg?” you echoed his previous words sardonically.
“Alright, you got me there,” he conceded amusedly. There was a moment of silence, and then he held out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Boothill. What’s yours, sugar?”
You looked at his hand, and then at him. Then you took his hand and shook it firmly. “[Name]. Nice to meet a fellow outlaw.”
ᯓ BLADE .ᐟ
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 sharp edge of a sword was hovering just over your jugular vein, more than ready to slice it open at any given opportunity. It was barely touching your skin, a ghost of a scrape, and you remained completely, absolutely still.
The blade was of a deep, dark crimson, with golden spider cracks adorning it, giving the sword a serrated, broken appearance. It was visibly well-wielded, and mended many times over.
Just like the man who was holding it to your throat.
Bandages covered his left hand, and one was wrapped around his upper right forearm, on his coat’s sleeve. Strange. Another was wound around his upper right thigh, also on clothing, not on his skin. His hair was shaggy, unkempt, brushing over his eyes so thickly, his left one was barely visible. But his one visible eye…it held an intensity you hadn’t come across before—one so piercing, so penetrating, it became a physical and mental battle to hold it.
The man was handsome, very handsome, and his face was full of youth. But the way his brow was knotted so harshly, lips drawn out into a severe line, and how his uncovered eye speared through you gave you the unshakable sense that this man had seen, done, and lived many things, and many lifetimes.
“I know who you are,” were his first words to you. A deep, gruff, cold voice, so menacing. The man’s whole ambiance screamed menace. He would kill you without a second thought, resolutely, and you’d just become yet another victim he never stopped to understand, to care about.
“You do?” You were nervous; that sword of his was held so steadily, there was not a detectable tremor in his grip at all. The man’s entire form was utterly motionless, like a predator lying in patient, still wait. And the killing blow could come at any time, and you would never have possibly anticipated it. “…I don’t recall meeting you before.”
“Then why are you here?” There was the crackle of leather squeezing together, and you watched as his only gloved hand curled around the blade’s hilt just that bit more. That red eye narrowed. It was flecked with searing gold, you noticed. “You do not belong here. I should kill you.”
You slowly lifted a hand, not making any sudden movements, but his eyes did not move from yours for even a fraction of a second. Tapping the back of it against the sword’s edge, you ever so slowly eased it away from your neck. You were amazed he let you. “Sir, I have no idea who you are, but did you think I was going to let a stranger bleed out in some empty alleyway at one in the morning?”
“You should mind your own business,” he spat, but he deemed you harmless enough to stay his sword fully. It dissipated into stardust, and your eyes bugged out at the sight. The man tried to take two steps back, but he stumbled, slumping against the brick wall behind him. You rushed to catch him, but a large, firm hand grabbed your shoulder and held you away from him. “Don’t.”
“Mister, you are bleeding. Severely.” From your observations of his (very obvious) mannerisms and appearance, you could only surmise that this man was some kind of soldier or thug, either or. He knew how to wield a sword masterfully, and this kind of incident evidently wasn’t new to him.
“And I will be fine.” A flash of red in the dark was all that told you he’d flicked a glare in your direction as he slid down the wall, sitting on the cold stone ground. “Leave this place.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You would just be making it more difficult for me. Leave. Before I have to make you leave myself.”
You knelt down in front of him. He was panting heavily, a hand on his middle. Rivulets of blood oozed between his fingers, streaming out and down through the gaps of his knuckles. “What’s your name?”
“That is…none of your concern,” he puffed, that permanent frown on his face deepening. Sweat glistened on his brow. “There’s no need for me to tell yo—”
“I’m asking so I can call a friend of yours, genius. Or an associate, if you’re involved with underground stuff like that.” You began to reach for his hip, feeling around for a phone. “Because you, clearly, don’t have the energy to—”
His free hand snatched yours away, grip tight and almost bruising. “Leave. Just leave.”
You stared at him, lips pursed. “I need to calm down. Whatever secret it is you’re desperately trying to keep from me is none of my concern. I’m not interested in that. What I am interested in is getting you help. Let me contact whoever your partner in all this is.”
His wide chest heaved, his breathing laboured, before he finally broke gazes with you and released your wrist. “Fine. Make it quick. And then you go, understood?”
“Perfectly.” You waited for him to extract his phone from his pocket and unlock it, handing it to you. Then his hand slumped down. Damn, even doing just that took everything in him. You were growing increasingly concerned. This man is dying. I need to hurry.
The first name to pop up in his contacts was someone called ‘Kafka’. Hitting the call button, you put it on speaker and held it out to him. He waved it away, rasping, “you do the talking.”
Four rings went by before the other end clicked and a crooning, sultry female voice filtered through the phone. “Ooh, what a pleasant surprise, Bladie. You never call first~”
You glanced up at the so-called ‘Bladie’, who fixed you with a glare that screamed, I dare you to ask. I dare you. Biting back your laughter, you cleared your throat and carefully began, “Uh, good evening, ma’am. I’m here with your friend…Bladie.”
There was silence on the other end for a beat before the woman broke into chuckles. “Haha! You called him Bladie! Oh, you don’t have much longer to live, missy. If he’s incapacitated right now, you’re very lucky.”
You sneaked a glance at the man before you and saw that she wasn’t exaggerating. His glower was murderous, even more so than before. Your stomach dropped at the sight. “…Haha. Sorry about that. And yes, he is incapacitated right now. Very injured, in fact. He’s losing a lot of blood, ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t be so formal!” This ‘Kafka’ talked as if the present incident was just another Tuesday for her. What do these two get up to? You weren’t sure if you even wanted to know. “Just call me Kafka, sweetie. I’m on my way right now, Bladie. What’s your name, honey?”
You gave her your name. Kafka hummed. “Mm, yes, well, darling, I would advise you to leave, please. You’ve been a great help, and I hate to scare you off, but Bladie here has a few problems only I can attend to. Your leaving is only for your own good.”
“Why?” Curiosity killed the cat.
“Don’t ask questions. Just leave,” the man growled, and he seemed to be getting nastier and nastier by the second. “Do as she says. Go.”
“I’m almost there, Blade,” Kafka said through the phone, and that’s when you knew she’d used his actual name. Blade. It suited him. Very well. The faint sound of heels clicking in the background on the line told you the woman was hurrying over to you and Blade. “Hang in there, alright? Just a little longer.”
“Miss Kafka, I think I should stay here—”
“Honey, Blade here is mara-struck,” she interrupted you, her voice still so lilting and flirtatious, but it held a firmer note. “If he goes wild, you’ll be the first to go.”
“What do I keep telling you?” Blade panted, and that’s when you understood the golden gleam in his eyes. “Go. How long until it gets through your thick skull? When you’re dead? Just lea—”
“Bladie, don’t be so harsh.” Kafka had her previous playful tone again, one this man obviously hated. “She’s probably terribly shocked right now—aren’t you, honey?”
“…Yeah…” You were. Utterly shellshocked. I need to get out of here. This man was much more dangerous than you initially anticipated. “I’ll…I’ll go.”
“Good idea,” Kafka purred, and then two sets of heels began to echo behind you. “Here we are.”
The call ended, and the woman emerged from the shadows. Voluptuous, graceful and just exuding danger, the tall lady approached you both with quick, but casual, calculated steps, and Blade looked visibly relieved at her appearance. Kafka smiled down at you, but it wasn’t a real smile. Just an automatic reaction, you guessed. You immediately handed her Blade’s phone. Her smile widened. “Thank you, sweetie. Run along now.”
“Of—of course.” You hurried to your feet. Glancing worriedly down at Blade, he kept his head slumped as Kafka knelt beside him in the place you just were. Her perfume hit you like a truck, and you suddenly thought this woman was very cool. Really cool. But lethal. “I…yeah. Take care.”
“Oh, we will.” Kafka didn’t look up again, and was feeling Blade’s pulse. “Have a lovely rest of your night, honey. You got lucky.”
You’d already guessed as much. “Haha. Goodbye.”
Turning to hurry out of the alleyway, you were stopped by the woman calling out for you one last time. She had a long, elegant finger pressed to her lips, and she winked at you. “Just a little reminder, sweetie, to not say a word of this to anyone, alright?”
“…Alright.”
Kafka’s intense gaze wasn’t half as friendly as her smile. “Good girl. Keep quiet, and we’ll be back with a reward for you in no time.”
Intimidated, you backed up. “Oh—there’s…really no need, ma’am.”
She clicked her tongue, turning back to the now-unconscious man before her and continuing with whatever she was doing on him, chuckling rather darkly. “Oh, but there is. See you soon, sweetie.”
ᯓ AVENTURINE .ᐟ
“𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 few tricks up your sleeve, have you?”
You threw the dice down on the roulette wheel, leaning back in your chair and watching it spin about freely. Taking a sip of your cocktail, you smiled at the golden-haired man to your left over the rim of it. “You’re asking me that question? You’ve got untold ones hidden up in all nooks and crannies of that expensive peacock coat of yours.”
Aventurine leaned his cheek against his fist, elbow propped on his chair’s armrest. A pair of the most striking, beautiful eyes you’d ever seen gazed at you through rose-tinted shades. “Why, aren’t you observant. This little gambling session really has been such a ball. I haven’t come across someone as skilled as yourself in a long time.”
“Thank you kindly,” you sarcastically said, setting your beverage down with a soft clink. You glanced at the mountain of chips gathered neatly right in front of the man. Equal to yours. Now, you were both locked in a one-on-one gambling session where you fought for each other’s chips. Maybe a bit unorthodox—usually there’d be many more players. But the less there were, the more intense it was. “I dare say, this is one intense first meeting, don’t you agree?”
“Most certainly.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “Now, shall we make a small, personal bet of our own?”
“A personal bet?” you repeated, tilting your head at him. “I would never have guessed you made such things.”
“Only when necessary.”
“Oh, I see—you’re doing this because you’re losing. Pitifully.” You twirled a chip around between your fingers. “Alright. What’s this bet you’d like to make?”
“I bet that if you lose the next five chips, you answer a question of mine. If I lose the next five chips, I’ll score you a little rendezvous with the lovely Miss Jade.”
“Only five chips?” you queried warily, lifting a brow. “And how did you know I wish to speak with Jade? Oh, what am I saying. You IPC thugs always have tabs on something.”
“You wound me. Let’s hop to it, shall we?” Aventurine threw in his dice. “I bet on a twenty-three. Five gold chips.”
“Five-thousand credits, hm?” He was going for the kill. You smiled to yourself. “Alright. I bet on twelve. Five black chips.”
“You play cheap,” he mused, intently watching the dice spin around. “Not much of an investor, are you?”
“Knowing you and your tactics, I would be more likely to take a greater loss than you,” you explained, no qualms about handing it to his innate gambling skills and apt intuition. You couldn’t fathom how he did it and where he got his accuracy from. “Five hundred credits isn’t too much of a loss for me.”
“Two selected numbers out of thirty-eight in total.” Aventurine relaxed into his chair. The dice began to slow. “What are the chances?"
“It all depends.” You watched as the dice spun away from the ‘twelve’ notch over and over. You were getting a bit jittery. You had a feeling that this question of his was worth far more to you than the five hundred measly credits you put on the table. “For all we know, it could land in neither of our betted numbers.”
“Oh, so true.” This man was so sly, so conniving. It set off alarms in your head. The corners of his shapely lips turned up, and he grinned devilishly at you. “Let’s see where it lands.”
The dice spun and spun and spun, getting slower and slower—before, finally, it rolled to a gradual stop, tumbling into a notch.
Your fingers twitched. You wanted to wring the handsome, cunning man’s neck. The dice had landed so excruciatingly calmly into the twenty-third notch.
As expected, I suppose. This man never took any losses. You weren’t too worried about pushing the five black chips his way. You were more worried about what question you would have to answer.
“Five-hundred credits. So worthwhile.” Aventurine gladly accepted them. “Now, let’s see…here is my question. Don’t look so perturbed. It’s nothing, really.”
“Is that so?” You crossed your arms over your chest, swinging a leg over your other, lightly kicking your heeled foot in an attempt to remain calm. “Pray tell, what do you ask?”
“I ask that you make a little deal with me.”
You arched a brow. Another one? “Another bet? I think I’ve had quite enough of those for one day.”
“Oh, no, it’s not a bet, honey. The deal is this: pose as my girlfriend for a while, and I’ll compensate you thoroughly.”
“That’s nice. What’s in it for me?”
“Status. Renown. Wealth. Reputation.” He held up four fingers, then a gold chip suddenly appeared out from between them and he flipped it in the air casually. “And, of course, safety. Maybe a little nice dinner with the elegant Senior Manager of the IPC Strategic Investment Department. You can’t go wrong with this.”
“Truly?” You weren’t buying it. “It will be contractual?”
“Absolutely.” Aventurine’s crooning voice was grating on your nerves. But he was tempting. So tempting. “And it’ll be our little secret. I’ll swear not to pull anything unsavoury.”
You considered it. You needed the money. Reputation and status was also an enticing offer. But you needed time to think.
“Shall we meet up and discuss this elsewhere some other time?” You pulled out your phone, extending it toward him. “Put in your contact details. I’ll text you when I’ve thought it through.”
“Wise of you.” Aventurine accepted the gadget and tapped away at it accordingly. “Take your time. I look forward to working with you.”
He got up and left, only the strong scent of his expensive cologne left in his wake. You noticed he never took your five-hundred credits, and left his five-thousand behind.
ᯓ JING YUAN .ᐟ
𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 expect the Arbiter General to be the one to rescue you from three mara-struck soldiers.
It’s not like you were helpless. You could fight; you had the Combat Type of Wind and Path of Erudition at hand. You were no weakling—you, ranked a Sergeant Major in the Sky-Faring Commission, had had your fair share of battles in the past.
But you’d never crossed paths with The Divine Foresight. Seeing his tall, powerful frame and flowing hair in passing as he strolled around the Sky-Faring Commission’s headquarters was as much as you knew of him personally. And that was nothing at all.
“Are you alright, miss?” He held a hand out to you to help you up, and you hesitantly accepted it. This is so embarrassing. Me, a Sergeant Major, needing help from the General himself? Can one get any more incompetent? You decided then it would be a good idea to keep your identity and rank private. You didn’t need the Arbiter-General walking away from this thinking you were incapable of even defending yourself from the most common of opponents.
“I’m fine, sir.” You brushed yourself off once you were on your feet again. You covertly tugged your badge signifying your rank out of sight. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Not at all.” General Jing Yuan smiled at you indolently. For someone who just wiped out three mara-crazed former Cloud Knights, he looked pretty sleepy. “Allow me to accompany you back to the Sky-Faring Commission.”
“I—I’m sorry?” Surely he hadn’t worked you out that quick. Neither could he have recognised you from the Commission either. You weren’t remarkable like that, and neither of you had ever interacted. “I don’t—I mean, I, uh…”
“Is something wrong?” He tilted his head at you. “Are you not Sergeant Major [Name]? Madame Yukong speaks highly of you.”
“I was not aware you knew of me, General.” That whole hiding of your badge was useless, then. You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve. “I am ashamed. To think you, of all people, would have had to be the one to save a well-trained soldier as I from three mere mara-struck knights.”
“Ashamed? No, don’t be. You were ambushed, no? Then, it is not your fault.”
“Thank you.” You bowed your head respectfully. “But, there is no need for you to escort me back to the Commission. I do believe I will be quite alright on my own.”
“Oh, I was heading to the Commission anyway.” General Jing Yuan inclined his head toward you. He’s very tall. His hair was longer than you thought, too. “So, why not keep each other company on our trip to the same place? I’ve been meaning to speak with you for a while now, also.”
“You have?” You met his hooded golden gaze in surprise. “About what, may I ask?”
“Your skill with the mechanics of a Starskiff is commendable.” He began walking, and you fell into step beside him. The Arbiter-General’s voice was low, silky, and deep. No wonder women went crazy over this man. “It reminds me of an old friend I once had, long ago. I could use your expertise—of course, only if you are willing to agree, that is.”
“What is it you need assistance with?” Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined the famed, formidable General Jing Yuan ever complimenting you for skills most in the Sky-Faring Commission had.
“Fifteen Starskiffs were crashed in a heated battle northwest of Scalegorge Waterscape,” he explained. “It will keep you awfully busy for a little while, but the compensation for your hard work will be great.”
Pursing your lips, you debated your answer. “…General Jing Yuan, sir, I must remind you that I am a Sergeant Major, not a repairwoman. I am the one who sends out the Starskiffs to be crashed, not the one who fixes them.”
“Ah, I see. Of course. It seems I overlooked that one small factor.” It didn’t take both of you long until you arrived at the Sky-Faring Commission’s headquarters. “I am sorry, but I will have to assign this task either way. It’s really quite urgent. And Madam Yukong recommended you.”
“I really don’t—”
“Would a promotion from Sergeant Major to Colonel do?”
It was like he slapped you with the way you reeled back in shock, rendered utterly speechless. “Pro-promotion, sir?” you sputtered, inarticulate. “I—that’s—I don’t think…”
The Arbiter-General tilted his head coyly as if he were just discussing the weather, not your (huge) promotion from Major to Colonel. “But, I do. I think that would suffice. Are you convinced?”
“I…” Getting there, that’s for sure. Our first meeting ever, and he’s promoting me? You weren’t quite sure of your impression of the man. Wonder? Astonishment? You were torn between both.
Before you could answer, Jing Yuan pushed open the Commission’s doors and entered. Madam Yukong caught sight of you both and rushed over. “General! Oh, [Name], you’re here too. Jing Yuan, did you tell—”
“I certainly did.” His full mouth curled up into a playful smile. He glanced down at you, and you quickly looked away. “However, it is all up to Sergeant Major [Name] here. Yet, I do think the offer I made her is too good to refuse.”
“Too good to be true,” you softly corrected. “General, I fail to see why my fixing of fifteen crashed Starskiffs warrants a promotion of such a degree. It would hardly be anything noteworthy…”
“Quite the opposite.” The General outstretched a hand and patted your shoulder. He smiled indolently again, so casual. “Think it over, Sergeant. I look forward to working with you.”
With that, the Arbiter-General turned and headed away, over to attend to something else regarding Qingying, one of Madam Yukong’s colleagues.
You turned to her in bewilderment. “Is he serious?”
The older woman smiled in a way that made you think she was in on some joke you hadn’t a clue about. It was a knowing smile, and she shot a look in the General’s direction. Then she looked at you again, eyes twinkling. “Very serious.”
all rights reserved © kisstrela 2024. do not copy, repost, redistribute, translate, plagiarise or modify my work(s) in any way on any platform. thank you.
#reblog#honkai star rail#hsr argenti#hsr sunday#hsr boothill#hsr aventurine#hsr jing yuan#OH MY HOD THIS ATE SP HARD#OKAY FIRST OFF SUNDAY AND BLADES WERE MY FAVORITE#BEEFING W SUNDAY??? HELLLL YEAH FIGHT HIM#sunday my love he is such a BITCH <333#i love how he was just all :] when we were lowkey insulting him hes so kickable i love him sm#AND BLADE !!! KAFKA CAMEO <33 I LOVED THE PHONE CALL CONVERSATION#IT JUST FLOWED SO WELL I REREAD IT A BIT BC <333 IDK UT JUDT FELT NATURAL#and jing yuan and boothill.... BOOTHILL BANTER IS ALWAYS GOOD BANTER !!#and jing yuan <33 his sly ass i can see his :3 just from how you write his dialogue it is SCRUMPTIOUS#others' writing#favorites#I LOVE U OP THIS WAS SO FUN TO READ <33
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guys im sorry but i accidentally hit sunday with the childhood friends beam but angstier this time
#thinking out loud 🏵️#i was just going to make a little drabble for him and then. and then.#i dont even know what happened#it just did
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This year we're rebloging only one eurovision post
Just boycott that shit
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CRYING ???
i forgot to say earlier, but happy pride month! know that you are valid, and you are loved. whether you're gay, trans, ace, still figuring yourself out, or any other flavour of queer, this is a time to celebrate who you are!!
#reblog#NAH BEING HOMOPHOBIC ON TUMBLR IN 2024 IS CRAZYYYY#TAKE THAT SHIT TO INSTAGRAM 💀#ok fr tho HAPPY PRIDE MONTH GUYS !!! LOVE YALL BE WHO U ARE LOVE WHO U ARE MWAH MWAH
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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: after the dreammaster tells him the bad news, sunday is left alone with his thoughts and his work.
❀ ˎˊ- sunday x gn!reader
❀ ˎˊ- wc: 753
❀ ˎˊ- warnings: major 2.2 spoilers, mental breakdowns/panic attacks, mentions of injuries and war
❀ ˎˊ- a/n: ive spoiled sunday too much it's time for him to suffer to keep equilibrium 🗿 anyways this isn't a reader insert but rather a character study (i was going to do an essay but this is more fun) so yippee enjoy <3
❀ ˎˊ- img credits
Pen scratched against paper like nails on a chalkboard. The angel’s gloved hand gripped it with enough force to shatter a small bird’s neck, slashing signature after signature onto the pages upon pages of official paperwork, Penacony’s need and his shackles.
The paper could've been a death certificate and he would've signed it. His golden eyes scanned each page within seconds, forgetting its contents by the time he signed it and moved onto the next. There was only one thought on his mind - there was only room for one thought.
Robin- Robin, Robin, Robin. His mind was his worst enemy, conjuring horrific images of her fate.
Bloody- No, Mr. Wood said she was at a hospital now, so she should be fine- she should've been fine when he let her leave. There never should've been a gunman, never should've been a war, never should've been a damned bullet in her neck-
He should've never let her go- he should've convinced her to stay, there were many ways to be a singer without having to leave Penacony, the Internet didn't exist for no reason but she insisted, she wanted to go, she wanted to fly, she wanted to experience the world so why didn't she tell him that she was going into a warzone?
She should've told him- no, she must've known that he wouldn't have let her go, but what kind of older brother would let his kid sister go off into a battlefield? Especially since things like this would happen, and-
CRACK!
Sunday barely registered the ink running down his hand, staining it a deep, deep black. He saw the black seep into whatever paper he was working on. Somewhere in the back of his head, he cursed it, cursed that stupid pen, cursed himself for being careless, but again and again, those thoughts were washed out by his imagined image of his weakened and vulnerable sister barely hanging onto life as she breathed through a machine, light years away from home.
His chest hurt. Was he hyperventilating? Maybe. Probably. High-pitched ringing like a siren filled his ears - he couldn't even hear his own breath. Something pricked - no, stabbed, it hurt more than he'd initially thought - in his hand, likely his pen. Was he bleeding? He hoped not, but honestly, he couldn't care less right now. No matter how much pain he was in, it was nothing compared to the agony that Robin must be experiencing.
Mr. Gopher Wood’s words echoed in his mind.
Following the Odes of Harmony… that was what led Robin on that path. He understood her desires to help the weak, of course he did - he too wished to help humanity, who couldn't help themselves. But like this? By extending assistance to the pitiful and weak humanity, whose only goal was to survive, who would only take advantage of her kindness? By making herself a target?
If she'd told him, he could've secured help for the refugees, he could've put in a request to take them into Penacony, he could've done anything, anything that wouldn't have ended with a bullet in her neck. But no, she decided to lie to him and didn't even bother to tell him of her injury.
He blinked wearily. He could feel his eye bags weighing down on his face. Tiredly, he stared at the dried ink that ruined his hand and his paperwork.
Why didn't Xipe protect her? Wasn't Robin one of Their most devoted acolytes?
He took off the stained glove, absentmindedly checking his hand for injuries. His gaze wandered back to the ruined paperwork, his signature half-signed and broken right at the sharp N.
Weak. That's what the Harmony was.
He stood up. Carefully, he picked up the ruined paper, reading over its contents.
Insignificant.
Its sender wasn't exactly important, either - just another despicable dog of the IPC, and not even a high-ranked one. He could just say that he'd never received it in the first place, and no one would dare to question him.
Taking leisurely steps, casting tall shadows in his wake, he held the paper over one of the many candles that lined his office, and watched indifferently as it caught flame. Within seconds, the paper was charred black, and then mere embers.
Numbly, he turned back to his desk, clicking his tongue at the remaining ink, pooled around a shattered pen.
He should clean it up, shouldn't he. The faster he got his paperwork done, the sooner he could see Robin.
And maybe, just maybe, he could then convince her to stay.
reblogs w comments are appreciated !!
tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei
@akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace
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On this Land Day, we sow seeds of resistance ✊🏽
STARVATION IS THEIR WEAPON
CULTIVATION IS OURS
We are launching a campaign to revive Gaza's agricultural sector and restore local food systems.
Support us in the first stage as we plant seasonal vegetables, fruits, and leafy greens.
Donate here
Note: select Revive Gaza Farmland campaign from the list of options and from the dropdown list in the donation confirmation page.
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Verified Palestinian gofundme’s Masterlist
Rightfully so, I have gotten messages worrying if everything I post is legit (I try my best to make sure the answer is yes), but here’s a masterlist of ones that one or more people have confirmed are legit Palestinians. Most are from the blogs @el-shab-hussein, @ibtisams, @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc ,@90-ghost, @nabulsi and @palipunk
I will also be making individual posts for most of these
Help Khaled and his family escape Gaza
Help lara and abdalla Family to be safe in Gaza
Emergency: Help Ibrahim's Family Find Safety - $50 is 500kr
HELP Ezzideen & his Family to EVACUATE Gaza
Your help is the only hope to save us from war.
Hope : Help Little Elen Fetch a brighter Future
Help Aseel’s family evacuate from Gaza.
EMERGENCY: HELP evacuate Bashar from Gaza
Help Mohammad Hammad evacuate his family from Gaza
Help Madleen's Family From Gaza
Help Jehad Evacute From Gaza
Help a med student & his family evacuate to safety
Help Fadi's Family Rebuild Their Life Amidst Crisis
Help Us Safely Evacuate a family from Gaza
Help child with Cerebral Palsy evacuate
Protect an open source engineer and his family
Help Bring Ayah’s Family in Gaza to Safety
Call to Action: Keep Gazas Talent Alive
Help Belal and His Family Escape the War in Gaza
Urgent Rescue Mission for the Mortaja Family
Save my family from the war in Gaza
Urgent: Help Evacuate My Family From Gaza War
Urgent help to evacuate my family out of Gaza
Help evacuate Safi’s family from Gaza in warfare
emergency : Help Support the Khalaf Family in Gaza
Help AbdulAziz and his family
Help Yousef escape Gaza and treat his cancer
Help my family rebuild home und evacuate Gaza
Please Help Me Evacuate My Children To Safety
Escape From War Nightmare: Support Gazan Family
Help my family in Gaza
Salaam Animal Care, find a safe home for animals
URGENT HELP help my family to evacuate Gaza
Help me & my Family Evacuate from Gaza
Urgent Appeal for Support: Help a Photographer
Help Jana's Family Find Refuge and Peace
Help me to save my family from the war in Gaza
Help evacuate my brother and his family from Gaza
Urgent apeal to help Elzomar family leave Gaza immediately
Help my mum to travel to a safe place
Help Afnan to find safety and to complete her education
Support getting Linda and her family out of Gaza
Support Mohammed and His Family Affected by the Gaza War
Help Ala's Family Overcome Crisis in Gaza
Freedom and home repair for Aesha an family
Help us evacuate and rebuild what's left of our lives
Help Tamer and his Family in Gaza!
Help my family escape death and reunite with me.
Help me and my family escape the Genocide in Gaza
Help rebuild Ahmed's family life in Gaza .
Emergency : Saving My Mother and only brother From War Zone
Rescue Mahmoud's Family: A Call to Escape Gaza's Devastation
Help Mohammed & His Family To Safety
Help Almoghrabi family to evacuate Gaza strip
Urgent Appeal: Help Save Ruba & Muhammad in Gaza!
Urgent help to evacuate my family from Gaza
Help Alia's family and their children get out of Gaza
Urgent Appeal: Save Little Yusuf and His Family Amidst Gaza
Support My Family Escape War in Gaza
Help me get my family out to safety
Help my family out of Gaza
Help me get my family out to safety
Help my children and family from the Gaza war !!
Please Help Evacuate Fadi's Family from Gaza
URGENT: Help Hayam and her Family Escape the Genocide
For what remained in us من أجل ما تبقى فينا
Please Help Restore The Sharifs home & Help Leave A War Zone
Help Shymaa's Family Reunite in Egypt
Help Mahmoud’s family evacuate from Gaza
Donate to help Deyaa and his family escape Gaza
Fatima’s Journey to Restore Artistry in Gaza
My family under fire, help them evacuate Gaza.
Help me to evacuate from the genocide
Help Mahmoud to evacuate from Gaza to continue education
Help my family evacuate from Gaza
Help Sana’a and her family evacuate from Gaza
Haytham needs your help to support his family
Help my family survive and evacuate from Gaza
Help me rebuild a shelter for my family in Rafah
HelpYoussef and his family get out of Gaza for a better life
Let my family be safe and live in peace!
Relief Appeal: Secure Evacuation from Gaza War
Please Help Tahani save her children and husband
Urgent Help Appeal: exit the war of Gaza"
Help My Family Get Out Of Gaza
Vegetables, food, and water for Palestinian families
HELP Muhammad evacuate his family out of GAZA
Secure a Safe Future for Youssef’s Family - Act now
Support My Journey to a New Start
Help Shymaa's Family Reunite in Egypt
Help Me and my Family to evacuate from Gaza ASAP
Saving My Family from the Horrors of War in Gaza
Help the Allahawani family escape genocide
URGENT - Help Azzam evacuate his family from Gaza
help my children get out of gaza safely
Emergency: Help Evacuate My Family from Gaza
Help Safaa secure her children‘s lives after war
Help Kareem get his family from Gaza to safety
Help Karim and his family get to a safe place
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ILLU. DID YOU SEE THE PARODY SONG DAN HENG AND BOOTHILL'S VA MADE FOR BOOTHILL'S BANNER?
(GO TO NICHOLAS LEUNG'S YOUTUBE IF YOU HAVEN'T, I'M LOSING MY MIND)
-🪼
I HAVE NOT I WILL CHECK IT RIGHT NOW ILL BE BACK
.
okay what the fuck why does it actually sound good BRO THE CHORUS CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD I CANT BRO THERE'S NO WAY HYV ALLOWED THIS
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With all respect and appreciation, try as much as you can to support them and help me, so that I may be able to help my family before it is too late.
hi !! unfortunately i personally cannot donate, however there may be some of my followers who can. to those worried, i checked the blog according to a guide i found and i don't think this one's a scam (since he has a gofundme and posts updates, which most bot-controlled scam blogs don't do). however, if you want to make sure, you can check yourself to be safe <3
here's a link to his post with the gofundme and everything !! please donate if you can, he has about 4 children (i believe) that he needs to keep fed/safe and evacuate, so every dollar/euro counts.
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Someone did NOT call Lynx a flop while praising Luocha like HES A 5STAR AND SHE ISNT????? YOURE COMPARIJT TWO DIFFERENT CLASSES
BRO LYNX IS FUCKING AMAZING THEY DID NOT 😭😭😭 TSK TSK ONES GOLD ONES PURPLE WHATD BRO EXPECT LIKE SHES BETTER THAN BAILU
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wuwa fic has been yassified w a very basic ass name but it's okay
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BRO WHY DO I WAIT UNTIL THE THING IS PUBLISHED UNTIL I EDIT IT I
#thinking out loud 🏵️#TINY GRAMMAR MISTAKES MY BELOATHED#we gotta stop running into eachother like this otherwise we gotta go thru an enemies to lovers arc together
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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: after the dreammaster tells him the bad news, sunday is left alone with his thoughts and his work.
❀ ˎˊ- sunday x gn!reader
❀ ˎˊ- wc: 753
❀ ˎˊ- warnings: major 2.2 spoilers, mental breakdowns/panic attacks, mentions of injuries and war
❀ ˎˊ- a/n: ive spoiled sunday too much it's time for him to suffer to keep equilibrium 🗿 anyways this isn't a reader insert but rather a character study (i was going to do an essay but this is more fun) so yippee enjoy <3
❀ ˎˊ- img credits
Pen scratched against paper like nails on a chalkboard. The angel’s gloved hand gripped it with enough force to shatter a small bird’s neck, slashing signature after signature onto the pages upon pages of official paperwork, Penacony’s need and his shackles.
The paper could've been a death certificate and he would've signed it. His golden eyes scanned each page within seconds, forgetting its contents by the time he signed it and moved onto the next. There was only one thought on his mind - there was only room for one thought.
Robin- Robin, Robin, Robin. His mind was his worst enemy, conjuring horrific images of her fate.
Bloody- No, Mr. Wood said she was at a hospital now, so she should be fine- she should've been fine when he let her leave. There never should've been a gunman, never should've been a war, never should've been a damned bullet in her neck-
He should've never let her go- he should've convinced her to stay, there were many ways to be a singer without having to leave Penacony, the Internet didn't exist for no reason but she insisted, she wanted to go, she wanted to fly, she wanted to experience the world so why didn't she tell him that she was going into a warzone?
She should've told him- no, she must've known that he wouldn't have let her go, but what kind of older brother would let his kid sister go off into a battlefield? Especially since things like this would happen, and-
CRACK!
Sunday barely registered the ink running down his hand, staining it a deep, deep black. He saw the black seep into whatever paper he was working on. Somewhere in the back of his head, he cursed it, cursed that stupid pen, cursed himself for being careless, but again and again, those thoughts were washed out by his imagined image of his weakened and vulnerable sister barely hanging onto life as she breathed through a machine, light years away from home.
His chest hurt. Was he hyperventilating? Maybe. Probably. High-pitched ringing like a siren filled his ears - he couldn't even hear his own breath. Something pricked - no, stabbed, it hurt more than he'd initially thought - in his hand, likely his pen. Was he bleeding? He hoped not, but honestly, he couldn't care less right now. No matter how much pain he was in, it was nothing compared to the agony that Robin must be experiencing.
Mr. Gopher Wood’s words echoed in his mind.
Following the Odes of Harmony… that was what led Robin on that path. He understood her desires to help the weak, of course he did - he too wished to help humanity, who couldn't help themselves. But like this? By extending assistance to the pitiful and weak humanity, whose only goal was to survive, who would only take advantage of her kindness? By making herself a target?
If she'd told him, he could've secured help for the refugees, he could've put in a request to take them into Penacony, he could've done anything, anything that wouldn't have ended with a bullet in her neck. But no, she decided to lie to him and didn't even bother to tell him of her injury.
He blinked wearily. He could feel his eye bags weighing down on his face. Tiredly, he stared at the dried ink that ruined his hand and his paperwork.
Why didn't Xipe protect her? Wasn't Robin one of Their most devoted acolytes?
He took off the stained glove, absentmindedly checking his hand for injuries. His gaze wandered back to the ruined paperwork, his signature half-signed and broken right at the sharp N.
Weak. That's what the Harmony was.
He stood up. Carefully, he picked up the ruined paper, reading over its contents.
Insignificant.
Its sender wasn't exactly important, either - just another despicable dog of the IPC, and not even a high-ranked one. He could just say that he'd never received it in the first place, and no one would dare to question him.
Taking leisurely steps, casting tall shadows in his wake, he held the paper over one of the many candles that lined his office, and watched indifferently as it caught flame. Within seconds, the paper was charred black, and then mere embers.
Numbly, he turned back to his desk, clicking his tongue at the remaining ink, pooled around a shattered pen.
He should clean it up, shouldn't he. The faster he got his paperwork done, the sooner he could see Robin.
And maybe, just maybe, he could then convince her to stay.
reblogs w comments are appreciated !!
tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei
@akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr sunday#sunday hsr#sunday#sunday character study#hsr character study#character study#archives 🏵️
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so guys turns out i'm just dumb i can delete photos after all
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i wrote this on the plane while having motion sickness so uh sorry if it's bad but i had a vision... this is based on the old version of wuwa btw !! where everyone was kinda hostile towards rover so that's why chixias more antagonistic bc i heard she was kinda mean in the og... rover might be ooc too bc honestly my experience w wuwa is... limited due to the lagging but i hope i did him decently enough !! if he doesn't have sass that's uhm. that's my bad
anyways, self aware beams ur wuwa. this is like 2.2k words and we using male rover coughs
When Rover awoke on that new world, the first thing he'd seen was a heated glare.
Alright, maybe “glare” wasn't the right word. It was moreso wariness, or distrust. Narrowed eyes, hostile and defensive body language, and hands hovering above where he assumed was their weapons holster - it was obvious that to the locals, he was an unwelcomed guest.
He'd barely regained enough consciousness to comprehend the language - their words were twisted, alien, yet he could somehow still understand them - before he was barraged with an onslaught of interrogations: Who was he? Why was he here? What were his intentions? Why was he alone?
And of course, when faced with all of these questions, his recently wiped mind went blank - that tends to happen when you have amnesia. Unfortunately for him, that answer wasn't exactly satisfactory. It was painfully obvious from their expressions that no one believed him when he explained that he didn't remember anything, not even his own name.
The redhead was the most aggressive - Rover was sure she would've already started getting physical had her companion, a darker-haired woman dressed in blue, not kept her in line. While the others weren't exactly kind to him, they still remained civil… or at least, as civil as they were willing to be.
In the end, the third woman, this one with sharp eyes and presumably the medic of the group, managed to convince the other two that Rover was telling the truth after a brief examination. It was then, and only then that the interrogations stopped, and Rover could finally have some time to himself as the three women discussed what to do with him.
As the details of their conversation faded into the background (he heard a lot of fancy terms that he wasn't familiar with), Rover decided to take a look around.
He'd landed in the middle of a forest, which didn't strike him quite right - out of everything, the one thing he clearly remembered was being underwater. But as he surveyed his surroundings, only looming cliffs, thin trees and swaying grass greeted him.
He winced, his head throbbing suddenly. A stabbing sensation struck through his head like a bullet, and then there was warmth, spreading through his body like sunlight.
“..ey. Hey!”
Rover blinked. The redhead planted her hands on her hips, irritation evident from her scowl.
“We’ve decided what to do with you,” the woman in blue said softly, holding an arm in front of the redhead to calm her.
Rover tilted his head innocently, prompting her to continue.
“We'll take you to the city,” explained the medic. Her voice was just as frigid as her gaze. “There, the officials will examine and determine whether or not you're a threat.”
“I’m-” Rover started, but caught himself. “Okay.”
The medic nodded, then bent down on her knees. Noticing her outstretched hand, Rover realized she was offering to help him up.
He stumbled as she pulled him to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, pins and needles pricking at him as they slowly woke up. For a second, he'd thought he'd fall over.
But then the warmth came again, and this time, with a voice.
“Steady. Easy does it.”
Sudden strength surged into his legs, and he stabilized himself, the pins and needles fading away.
“There you go.”
He looked up as if expecting someone to be there, but predictably, all that met him was a vast blue sky.
“Are you looking for me?” He heard the voice laugh, a clear, bell-like sound. “Maybe do that later, you're making yourself look funny.”
With a start, he realized that the voice was right. The three women were giving him weird looks, and his hand was still intertwined with the medic’s.
Hastily, he yanked his hand away, a sheepish chuckle escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck. The redhead scoffed.
“Yangyang, this guy’s got a screw loose or something…” she muttered to the woman dressed in blue. Yangyang sighed in agreement, turning on her heel and walking away.
“Bear with it for a bit, Chixia,” she replied. “We'll drop him off at the City Hall, and they'll take it from there.”
Chixia didn't look happy with that, but she relented nevertheless.
“Wow.”
Rover flinched as the voice spoke again, this time closer to his ear.
“They do not like you at all, do they?”
Obviously not, Rover thought incredulously, but can you blame them?
He'd noticed it a while ago - the three were clearly on edge. Something was going on on this planet, something bad. Having an unpredictable factor such as him probably wasn't helping.
“Good point.”
So you can hear my thoughts. Rover huffed as he pulled himself up a cliff, vines scratching at his arms. The route the locals had decided to take wasn't a kind one.
“Well, yeah. How else are we supposed to have our super-secret confidential shittalking sessions?”
Rover paused. What?
“Don't worry about it.”
No, what'd you say-
“I said don't worry about it. Now keep climbing, they're leaving you behind.”
Easy for you to say, Rover thought indignantly, but did as the voice said nevertheless. He quickly caught up to the group, the medic raising a brow as he fell into step beside her. Thankfully, she didn't say anything and only kept her gaze straight ahead.
“Hey, I'm not the one who's being marched to officials for an inspection. And I don't have a reputation I need to maintain.”
Rover hated to admit it, but the voice had a point.
What are you, anyway? He walked past a small pond filled with fish. His hands twitched with the urge to jump in and grab some, but his first impressions were already bad enough as is.
“I'm God, actually.”
Rover deadpanned, unimpressed.
“Jeez, tough crowd.” The voice shifted, moving from his right to his left ear. “But seriously though, I'm human, just like you.”
If you were, I'd be able to see you.
“Fair enough,” the voice mused. “But I really am human. I just… happened to wake up invisible and connected to you.”
Rover grunted as he vaulted over yet another cliff. Very convincing.
“Says you.” He could practically hear them rolling their eyes. “At least I remember what my name is.”
That one hurt more than Rover would've liked to admit.
“...Sorry.” Quieter now, almost meek. “That was out of line.”
Rover closed his eyes briefly, breathing in as subtly as he could before opening them again.
It's fine. You didn't say anything false.
“It was still insensitive.”
Rover sped up. It happens to the best of us.
The voice went quiet, leaving Rover to the slight howl of the wind and the sound of boots crunching against sand. But they hadn't left entirely, no - Rover could feel a presence to his left, subtle but impossible to ignore.
“So you don't remember your name, huh?” Chixia said suddenly.
“No,” Rover muttered.
“Guess that just means we'll have to give you one. Or I could just keep calling you ‘Weirdo’ in my head.”
Rover’s eye twitched. “Let's not.”
Chixia grinned back at him, but the smile didn't ease his nerves at all - on the contrary, it made them worse.
“Why not? I think it's pretty fitting.”
“Chixia,” Yangyang warned, which Rover was grateful for. Had he retaliated, things wouldn't have ended well for him.
Chixia shrugged, crossing her arms behind her head as she sauntered off.
“I must apologize for her.” Yangyang turned to him. To his surprise, she seemed genuine. “Chixia usually isn't that rude, it's just that, well…”
She trailed off, uncertain on how to continue. Rover shook his head.
“It's fine,” he assured. “I can tell that you're all anxious.”
Yangyang’s shoulders slumped. “Is it that obvious? But… yes, you're right. Life hasn't exactly been calm as of late, with Tacet Fields appearing left and right.”
“Tacet Fields?” Rover repeated, tilting his head.
“It's easier to demonstrate than to explain,” the medic cut in, stepping forward as the cliffs and trees opened up. Rover followed her gaze to a darkened field, corrupted by dark matter and with a star-shapped scar at the center.
Abyss-like creatures prowled the corrupted zone, covered in dark armor, scales, and/or fur. They spoke to one another in gargled gibberish with voices that sent chills down Rover's spine.
“Those are Tacet Discords,” Yangyang explained. “They’re born from the distorted frequencies that result from the Tacet Field.”
“Ew.”
Welcome back, Rover greeted, to which the voice didn't respond.
“They're ugly,” they commented instead, scrutinizing the Tacet Discords one by one. Rover silently agreed. “But there's a few pretty ones I can see, like that wolf.”
Rover stared at said wolf's sharp canines and ravenous glare. Pretty… isn't what I would call them, but suit yourself.
“There’s a whole swarm of them out there,” Chixia observed, breaking through their conversation. She stretched her arms as if preparing for battle. “Can't get to the city without getting through them first.”
“Hm…” Yangyang contemplated to herself, before looking up at Rover. “Say, uhm…”
She hesitated, not knowing what to call him.
“Rover.”
His mouth moved on its own as his voice mixed with the voice's. Yangyang blinked, startled.
“I… I thought you didn't remember your name.”
“I don't,” Rover spoke without meaning to, like a puppet on strings. “It just… came to mind.”
Yangyang didn't look convinced, but she let it go.
“Alright, then, Rover, do you know how to fight?”
The feeling of being puppeteered left him as the voice became separate once more.
“Yes,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.
What the hell was that?
Yangyang smiled. “Good, because we'll need to clear that Tacet Field before reaching the city.”
He nodded, understanding the implications. “I'll do my best to fight alongside you.”
“I don't know what that was,” the voice replied, and sure enough, they too sounded unsure. “I just did what the system told me to.”
The system? Rover questioned, but received no answer.
Rover heard a pistol click behind him as Chixia readied herself. “Don't try anything funny,.”
“I won't.” Operating on instinct, Rover drew a blade of his own. Chixia chuckled.
“We'll see about that.”
One by one, the group jumped off the cliff, deploying a glider so as to land safely below. Rover was the last to go. As his feet skidded at the edge of the cliff, sending pebbles flying down, unease swirled in his gut.
“Hey,” the voice said gently. “Don't worry. I'll help you out.”
What… Rover furrowed his brows, frustrated at how little he knew. What are you?
“Like I said, I'm just another person who ended up stranded here. I have a feeling we're going to be stuck together for a while, so I suggest you get used to me.”
Then, Rover sighed, at least give me a name. You said you remembered yours.
The voice paused.
“[Name],” it finally said, the name foreign to Rover's ears. “That's my name.”
“[Name],” he murmured, feeling it roll off his tongue. “We should get going, the others are waiting. You said you'd help me, right?”
“Yep. Just jump off the cliff and extend your left hand up to glide.”
Rover paused. Aren't these called intrusive thoughts?
“Just do it.”
Taking a deep breath, Rover looked down at the jump before him nervously. Closing his eyes and mentally praying to whatever god was listening that he wouldn't end up a black puddle on the forest floor, he lept.
Mechanical wings unfolded above him in a series of clicks and whirrs, a handle extending down for him to grab onto like his life depended on it. Peeking open his eyes, he let out a sigh of relief, feeling a small breeze brush against his face.
“See?” Although not obvious, relief bled into [Name]’s words as Rover landed safely on his feet. “You can trust me.”
A small smile slipped onto Rover's face, the first since he'd woken up.
“I guess I can.”
The glider folded in on itself, replaced by his blade as he joined the others.
“Took you long enough,” Chixia commented, but for the first time, it wasn't with ill intent.
“Sorry,” Rover replied. “But I'm here now.”
“Enough chitchat,” Yangyang called up ahead. “They've noticed us.”
Sure enough, the Tacet Discords were turning towards them, snarls twisting where he assumed their mouths were. The corruption worsened, dark energy forming in black smoke.
“Let's see what you're made of, Rover,” said Chixia, expertly spinning her pistols. Yangyang had already drawn her sword, and Baizhi, the medic, had summoned a pearly dragon-like creature to fight alongside her. [Name] didn't say anything, but he could feel their energy beginning to seep into his muscles, ready to aid him in battle.
Rover pointed his blade towards the Tacet Discords.
“Let's go.”
reblogs w comments are appreciated !!
tags: @sh0jun, @themoderatelyawesomeninja, @xphantasmagoriax, @rainswept, @lucensei
@akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs
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ALL FOR THE AMBER LORD (your theme is so cute i want to tenderly kiss everything)
ALL FOR THE AMBER LORD 🗣️🗣️🗣️ (HEHE TY !!! I WANTED TO GO W A MORE CUTESY/CASUAL THEME THIS TIME SO IM GLAD U THINK SO <33)
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milksnake tea no joke i gen thought i lost ur blog forever idk wat happened
WHAT 😦 IT'S OKAY POOKIE WE'RE HERE NOW
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