[Ax is absolutely one of the stubborn few who is attempting to find a way out of the tunnels as soon as possible. And he's got a sizable advantage over the rest, in that he can literally turn into a mole.
The downside is usually this kind of reconnaissance was done as a team. It is much more difficult to be successfully discreet when on your own, but Ax does his best. He slips off toward a section of tunnel that seems to be unpopulated, and clumsily strips and shoves his uniform into an alcove (just in case someone does happen by). And he morphs, and he digs.
If it had been any of his human teammates on their own, they wouldn't be able to attempt this. But thanks to Ax's own natural sense of direction and the passage of time, it is not difficult at all to return to his starting point two hours later, having discovered nothing of value.
This was the tricky part: moles are acutely sensitive to vibrations, but living most of their lives in the dark, have no need for good eyesight. And so, the best Ax can tell of his surroundings is that there is nothing moving nearby.
He will have to hope that is enough.
Returning to human--and he thinks he will never get over how surreal and wrong that is, to transition directly to human rather than his true Andalite form--only takes a few minutes, and is just as grotesque as always. Joints snap into place, fur shrivels away, and he becomes a shifting, amorphous mass of flesh and bone that slowly shapes itself into something recognizable as humanoid.
Regrettably, his eyesight is the last thing to transition. And fuck his life, someone is there.]
[A few choices here: come closer and linger near the surface where the aberrant mist choked out his innate magic capabilities and threaten both of his contracts, old and new. Sit where Mordred had left him as the soldiers he was with started to move on. Go with them. Or find someplace quiet and off the beaten path to curl up into and catch his breath without the fear that someone was going to try and figure out what was wrong with him. Settling in with that final option, he picked his body up and headed off down a winding path.
He had seen these tunnels in the Metaverse, which twisted more and happened to be laid out to go on for what seemed forever, maybe into even the earth's core if he had it into him to look, but even in there, the fog had crept its way in, making the shadows stronger and more violent than he had ever seen before. He had a general layout of sorts to work with out here in the real world, so when he heads off, a hand up against the muddy wall to guide him, he feels like he's going to collapse at any given moment.
There was a time once, where he summoned his persona without enough magic to maintain it or conjure the powers that sprung forth from his pact, and he had been left in a dulled state of mind until he could get out and get some rest. It was just like this now, as he groans to himself, every inch of his body feeling lame and useless, just to try and keep up with the needs of his Servant. And as Ryuji slams against the corner of a tunnel wall, he lets his body hit dirt too easily, his head pounding like something had been screaming into it ever since he lost an absurdly large amount of his mana all in one shot.
It's honestly the first time that Ryuji had been alone since he came to Gallipoli. Before this, he had endeavored to keep himself around people, to make himself keep going, because if he didn't, he's not sure he would've been able to get himself back up again. So if it was just... talking to recruits, helping the wounded, bearing stretchers, offering comradeship or whatever was needed, it was worth it not to think about everything else. About Akira's disappearance, Hei's shell shock, the worry that Noctis was completely on the other side of the trenches at this point. He looks down next to him, seeing 3 long trenches' knives, picks one up by the handle and closes his eyes for a few winks.
And it's an hour before he realizes there's movement, cognition coming back to him like he had just stepped out of the 'Verse, for him to see something that he... didn't quite comprehend at all. Ryuji panics for a moment, checks the BCE to make sure that he didn't fall asleep in the under dimension, because that? That was something that he was sure could only ever take place there, as shadows morphed and shaped into horrible things, different things---
Phillip?
And like this were a dream gone horribly wrong, there's a naked soldier in eyesight of him just a few meters away, where there was was this changing matter of grotesqueness that didn't seem comfortable in its shape in any of the amorphous form it had started to reform into. Especially weird now, because he never thought Phillip looked that comfortable in his own skin to begin with when he had met him the first time. Well, that explains it.
[Ryuji's eyes peer from left to right, right to left. He heard something. Saber? Yeah, that was definitely her but there's no body, no sign of her anywhere near him.]
It's a hill of corpses. Not like Gallipoli, bodies buried whenever possible, tucked into corners when not. Here, corpses create the hill itself; tens of thousands of dead covering the ground with barely an inch to spare. Men stabbed, riddled with arrows, skulls caved in with a mace. The air hums with flies, feasting on the rot. Buzzards are already starting to circle in anticipation.
And yet, the battle still rages. An armoured knight tears through the last few warriors remaining, and a regal figure with a shining sword waits to confront them. The figure has Mordred's face, but everything else — the hair, the outfit, even its very presence is different. Kingly. So when Mordred's voice booms from the furious knight instead of the king, it shouldn't come as a surprise.
"How's that?! How's that, King Arthur?! Your country ends here! It's finished! Regardless of who wins — everything is already in ruins! If you had just turned over the throne to me, it wouldn't have turned out like this...!"
Her voice is passionate, angry. The only answer she receives is the king's sword clashing with her own; Clarent meeting Excalibur in a shower of sparks. Both warriors at their limit. Both fighting for their lives, even as neither truly plan to walk away from this hill. They move straight through Ryuji, oblivious to his presence, reenacting a battle already fought. Mordred screaming words already spoken.
"Do you hate me?! Do you hate me that much?! Did you hate me for being Morgan's son?! Answer me... answer me, Arthur!"
He does. (It's just not what she wants to hear.)
"I have never once hated you. The reason I did not hand the throne over to you is because... you did not have the capacity to be a king."
Howling in fury, in pain, Mordred swings her sword one last time. But there's a lance in King Arthur's hands, now, and it impales her; the force sending cracks through her armour and breaking her helmet in two, exposing an identical face to the king's. Her sword, still in motion, cleaves half of Arthur's — her father's — face off, then falls to the ground. Right in front of Ryuji, Mordred reaches out with blood clouding her vision.
"Fa... ther—"
Fatally wounded, the king turns and walks away as Mordred collapses behind him. Her forgotten, lifeless corpse is the only company Ryuji has as the minutes tick by, until the dream finally ends. ]
[The dreamshare that's happening as a direct result of their contract at first startles Ryuji into a state of disarray. Is it something he should talk to her about? Is it better off buried into the fiber of their relationship, not meant to see the light of day? He doesn't know the answer to that. But this dream, it's a sordid sort of welcome upgrade from the dreams of Galipoli. The result of either batch of dreams is the same: waking in the middle of the night, clutching at a body part and sweating, as if he had just been back on the battlefield. His chest heaves, he rubs his eyes and reminds himself that he's still on BASE. That he's safe. None of his friends are about to die.
And in between the new nightmares and old nightmares, there are the ones that are always there. Ryuji's had the same one, time and time again throughout his childhood. The setting might be different, the age at which he's at, but the theme is always the same. One of the nights that Ryuji goes camping, decides to sleep out under the wilderness on the giant floating fish, he revisits it.
Ryuji's a kid, no more than 9, 10 years old. His parents are struggling to get by, but in the respite of time between his mother being home and his father coming home, he always feels the most calm. There's a small assortment of spherical styrofoam structures and a long plating of cardboard sheet splayed out onto the table. He's building a solar system for class, and it looks pretty damn cool, for what a 10 year old can accomplish on his own. He's painted neptune a bright blue, mars a rust-ridden brown-red, and there are splashes of what's supposed to be earth on the one he's holding in his hand.
And when the front door opens, the familiar sound of his father's drunken footsteps ring out onto the floor like a signal flare. It's a warning shot to hide in his room, lest he get in the middle of what he knows is going to come. He tries to finish up, to pack up the wet paint on the table, but he's not fast enough. Never was, really. His arm reaches over to an open pot of blue paint as it starts to spill out onto the table and he knows the bad times are about to come. He doesn't see Mordred watching onto this scene, doesn't feel any other presence but his mother's trying to stall his father at the entrance.
"What the fuck's for dinner."
The cursing always makes him cringe. It's said from a position of power, and the resultant nervous voice from the living room is beaten before the first punch is even sunk. Ryuji's got the planetarium clutched to his chest, the paint not yet dried on the spheres either, so his shirt's becoming a mess.
"What in the hell? Ryuji, the hell are you doing?!"
"His science project for school, dear, please."
"Is this why my kitchen is a fucking mess. This is what I have to come home to. Good for nothing wife, dumb as bricks so---- Ryuji, did you get paint on the table? I work so goddamn hard for this family and you can't even have respect for what we got, huh?"
Ryuji's eyes cast downward, his mom is trying to stand between them, but there's not much he, or she, can do against those large, overbearing arms as they come and grab his work straight out of his hands. He crushes Neptune with his fist, and pissed, now that he has paint on his own hand, starts into a fury.
"Fucking brat!"
The first hit connects against his mother, and Ryuji's shoulders slink down. How is this supposed to be a family? How can he love someone who does this to them? It's hard to see his father as anything but the alcoholism, but worse than that, he's not going to have anything to bring into school tomorrow. He bites his lip, he wants to start crying, but he knows that if he does, it means he's lost.
Instead, his fists clench into spheres of their own.
"What are you gonna do? Hit your old man? Don't be such an ungrateful little shit, Ryuji-kun"
It happens so quick he doesn't have a moment to react. Someone ten times the size of him, with those agile hands, that sarcastic, furious glare behind cheap glasses- he's swept up by the collar.
"Dad, stop! What the hell's wrong with you!? You just hit mom!"
"You have the nerve to talk back to me?"
And the next thing he knows, all the wind is swept up from inside him as a fist connects against his gut. Usually the abuse is always open palmed, a smack against the face, against his shoulders- he's never been punched before. And the force of it nearly collapses him over and upon himself. Ryuji's crying, trying to grab air through his lungs, when he barely sees his mother through blurred vision grabbing his little league bat and---
Master. [ The words come without warning, like most things with Mordred. ] Use a command seal to summon me if you're in trouble. I don't want to cut you out of a spider because you got eaten like a fool.
Just focus your magic and call for me. You might only have a few seconds to react, so don't hesitate.
The queen wishes to speak with me, Master. I'm going to accept her invitation. It's dangerous, but way more interesting than just sitting around.
Don't worry if we're out of contact for a while. If that happens, I probably just need to focus on something. Or maybe I've decided to fight her. [ THIS IS A JOKE.......... ]
[ Smack. Smack. A knock on the door of Ryuji's quarters - that's what it was meant to be, but it came out sounding much more threatening than anticipated. Like most things related to Eren.
When the door opens, which the writer of this post assumes will happen, Eren's face is set in its usual expression - devoid of any emotion at all, except this time, there's a hint of stress wearing him down. ]
[The intrusion comes at a rather awkward time for Ryuji, who had just been keen to taking on his workout regimen. 100 sit ups. 100 pushups. He couldn't really do either of those things perfectly or within succession, but he was building up towards it. Every little bit helped, and slowly- day by day, he was getting stronger for it.
So what the writer of this post can assume is that Ryuji answered the door with a towel over his shoulders, still in hakama, eyebrow quirked as to who had come to his door, but nonetheless completely okay with his arrival.
His heart feels softer as his body grows stronger. Isn't that the opposite of what's supposed to happen when you get older?]
'Ey. Normally a "Hey, Ryuji!" is a standard greeting, but man, with you, anything kinda goes, huh?
[Smiling nonetheless, he lets him in. He can feel the awkward level of weight on Eren's shoulder just by sight of him. It makes him miserable to think that they all have to go through so much.]
The type of love doesn't matter. I just thought I should try and understand that feeling a little more. ... Anyway, it's fine if you can't answer. I know this sort of thing is uncommon among magi.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@ACHEELIES
I thought you wanted me to "spill the beans".
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
un: @MINIMALCAT
Now I have.
no subject
I wonder if there's a copy in the library. You gotta hear this.
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Answer me.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@NIGHTLIGHT
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@BURGERKING
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@JUGGALO
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
i promised i'd be here
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@BURGERKING
Ryuji. Check-in.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
wartime archaeology
[Ax is absolutely one of the stubborn few who is attempting to find a way out of the tunnels as soon as possible. And he's got a sizable advantage over the rest, in that he can literally turn into a mole.
The downside is usually this kind of reconnaissance was done as a team. It is much more difficult to be successfully discreet when on your own, but Ax does his best. He slips off toward a section of tunnel that seems to be unpopulated, and clumsily strips and shoves his uniform into an alcove (just in case someone does happen by). And he morphs, and he digs.
If it had been any of his human teammates on their own, they wouldn't be able to attempt this. But thanks to Ax's own natural sense of direction and the passage of time, it is not difficult at all to return to his starting point two hours later, having discovered nothing of value.
This was the tricky part: moles are acutely sensitive to vibrations, but living most of their lives in the dark, have no need for good eyesight. And so, the best Ax can tell of his surroundings is that there is nothing moving nearby.
He will have to hope that is enough.
Returning to human--and he thinks he will never get over how surreal and wrong that is, to transition directly to human rather than his true Andalite form--only takes a few minutes, and is just as grotesque as always. Joints snap into place, fur shrivels away, and he becomes a shifting, amorphous mass of flesh and bone that slowly shapes itself into something recognizable as humanoid.
Regrettably, his eyesight is the last thing to transition. And fuck his life, someone is there.]
no subject
He had seen these tunnels in the Metaverse, which twisted more and happened to be laid out to go on for what seemed forever, maybe into even the earth's core if he had it into him to look, but even in there, the fog had crept its way in, making the shadows stronger and more violent than he had ever seen before. He had a general layout of sorts to work with out here in the real world, so when he heads off, a hand up against the muddy wall to guide him, he feels like he's going to collapse at any given moment.
There was a time once, where he summoned his persona without enough magic to maintain it or conjure the powers that sprung forth from his pact, and he had been left in a dulled state of mind until he could get out and get some rest. It was just like this now, as he groans to himself, every inch of his body feeling lame and useless, just to try and keep up with the needs of his Servant. And as Ryuji slams against the corner of a tunnel wall, he lets his body hit dirt too easily, his head pounding like something had been screaming into it ever since he lost an absurdly large amount of his mana all in one shot.
It's honestly the first time that Ryuji had been alone since he came to Gallipoli. Before this, he had endeavored to keep himself around people, to make himself keep going, because if he didn't, he's not sure he would've been able to get himself back up again. So if it was just... talking to recruits, helping the wounded, bearing stretchers, offering comradeship or whatever was needed, it was worth it not to think about everything else. About Akira's disappearance, Hei's shell shock, the worry that Noctis was completely on the other side of the trenches at this point. He looks down next to him, seeing 3 long trenches' knives, picks one up by the handle and closes his eyes for a few winks.
And it's an hour before he realizes there's movement, cognition coming back to him like he had just stepped out of the 'Verse, for him to see something that he... didn't quite comprehend at all. Ryuji panics for a moment, checks the BCE to make sure that he didn't fall asleep in the under dimension, because that? That was something that he was sure could only ever take place there, as shadows morphed and shaped into horrible things, different things---
Phillip?
And like this were a dream gone horribly wrong, there's a naked soldier in eyesight of him just a few meters away, where there was was this changing matter of grotesqueness that didn't seem comfortable in its shape in any of the amorphous form it had started to reform into. Especially weird now, because he never thought Phillip looked that comfortable in his own skin to begin with when he had met him the first time. Well, that explains it.
Holy shit.]
...Holy shit you're a mole person.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
i'm impatient
Hey, Master. I'm bored.
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
@WEHFRIED
[He's... pretty bad at this, but he's trying and he's concerned for Ryuji.]
no subject
It was supposed to be me, and when they needed me the most.
Fuck. I just
I aint strong enough
And 'cause of it, Mordred... Rey...
Noct
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
@JUGGALO
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
on base
It's a hill of corpses. Not like Gallipoli, bodies buried whenever possible, tucked into corners when not. Here, corpses create the hill itself; tens of thousands of dead covering the ground with barely an inch to spare. Men stabbed, riddled with arrows, skulls caved in with a mace. The air hums with flies, feasting on the rot. Buzzards are already starting to circle in anticipation.
And yet, the battle still rages. An armoured knight tears through the last few warriors remaining, and a regal figure with a shining sword waits to confront them. The figure has Mordred's face, but everything else — the hair, the outfit, even its very presence is different. Kingly. So when Mordred's voice booms from the furious knight instead of the king, it shouldn't come as a surprise.
"How's that?! How's that, King Arthur?! Your country ends here! It's finished! Regardless of who wins — everything is already in ruins! If you had just turned over the throne to me, it wouldn't have turned out like this...!"
Her voice is passionate, angry. The only answer she receives is the king's sword clashing with her own; Clarent meeting Excalibur in a shower of sparks. Both warriors at their limit. Both fighting for their lives, even as neither truly plan to walk away from this hill. They move straight through Ryuji, oblivious to his presence, reenacting a battle already fought. Mordred screaming words already spoken.
"Do you hate me?! Do you hate me that much?! Did you hate me for being Morgan's son?! Answer me... answer me, Arthur!"
He does. (It's just not what she wants to hear.)
"I have never once hated you. The reason I did not hand the throne over to you is because... you did not have the capacity to be a king."
Howling in fury, in pain, Mordred swings her sword one last time. But there's a lance in King Arthur's hands, now, and it impales her; the force sending cracks through her armour and breaking her helmet in two, exposing an identical face to the king's. Her sword, still in motion, cleaves half of Arthur's — her father's — face off, then falls to the ground. Right in front of Ryuji, Mordred reaches out with blood clouding her vision.
"Fa... ther—"
Fatally wounded, the king turns and walks away as Mordred collapses behind him. Her forgotten, lifeless corpse is the only company Ryuji has as the minutes tick by, until the dream finally ends. ]
no subject
And in between the new nightmares and old nightmares, there are the ones that are always there. Ryuji's had the same one, time and time again throughout his childhood. The setting might be different, the age at which he's at, but the theme is always the same. One of the nights that Ryuji goes camping, decides to sleep out under the wilderness on the giant floating fish, he revisits it.
Ryuji's a kid, no more than 9, 10 years old. His parents are struggling to get by, but in the respite of time between his mother being home and his father coming home, he always feels the most calm. There's a small assortment of spherical styrofoam structures and a long plating of cardboard sheet splayed out onto the table. He's building a solar system for class, and it looks pretty damn cool, for what a 10 year old can accomplish on his own. He's painted neptune a bright blue, mars a rust-ridden brown-red, and there are splashes of what's supposed to be earth on the one he's holding in his hand.
And when the front door opens, the familiar sound of his father's drunken footsteps ring out onto the floor like a signal flare. It's a warning shot to hide in his room, lest he get in the middle of what he knows is going to come. He tries to finish up, to pack up the wet paint on the table, but he's not fast enough. Never was, really. His arm reaches over to an open pot of blue paint as it starts to spill out onto the table and he knows the bad times are about to come. He doesn't see Mordred watching onto this scene, doesn't feel any other presence but his mother's trying to stall his father at the entrance.
"What the fuck's for dinner."
The cursing always makes him cringe. It's said from a position of power, and the resultant nervous voice from the living room is beaten before the first punch is even sunk. Ryuji's got the planetarium clutched to his chest, the paint not yet dried on the spheres either, so his shirt's becoming a mess.
"What in the hell? Ryuji, the hell are you doing?!"
"His science project for school, dear, please."
"Is this why my kitchen is a fucking mess. This is what I have to come home to. Good for nothing wife, dumb as bricks so---- Ryuji, did you get paint on the table? I work so goddamn hard for this family and you can't even have respect for what we got, huh?"
Ryuji's eyes cast downward, his mom is trying to stand between them, but there's not much he, or she, can do against those large, overbearing arms as they come and grab his work straight out of his hands. He crushes Neptune with his fist, and pissed, now that he has paint on his own hand, starts into a fury.
"Fucking brat!"
The first hit connects against his mother, and Ryuji's shoulders slink down. How is this supposed to be a family? How can he love someone who does this to them? It's hard to see his father as anything but the alcoholism, but worse than that, he's not going to have anything to bring into school tomorrow. He bites his lip, he wants to start crying, but he knows that if he does, it means he's lost.
Instead, his fists clench into spheres of their own.
"What are you gonna do? Hit your old man? Don't be such an ungrateful little shit, Ryuji-kun"
It happens so quick he doesn't have a moment to react. Someone ten times the size of him, with those agile hands, that sarcastic, furious glare behind cheap glasses- he's swept up by the collar.
"Dad, stop! What the hell's wrong with you!? You just hit mom!"
"You have the nerve to talk back to me?"
And the next thing he knows, all the wind is swept up from inside him as a fist connects against his gut. Usually the abuse is always open palmed, a smack against the face, against his shoulders- he's never been punched before. And the force of it nearly collapses him over and upon himself. Ryuji's crying, trying to grab air through his lungs, when he barely sees his mother through blurred vision grabbing his little league bat and---
That's it.]
@WEHFRIED
I want to share my legend with you, if that's all right.
no subject
Yeah I've got some free time
Lookin forward to it
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
telepathy
Just focus your magic and call for me. You might only have a few seconds to react, so don't hesitate.
no subject
[This isn't an anime, Ryuji...]
Yeah, yeah- I ain't gettin' eaten. The last thing I wanna do is get partially digested by a spider queen.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
text
no subject
Shit.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
-> telepathy..........................
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
@NEEDAHEELER
I didn't expect you to still be around
But I'm glad to see enterthedragon still on the network.
That means you're alive.
But does that mean you're doing well?
no subject
But no, seriously, who is this???]
Geez, whoever you are, you must have a lotta faith in me, huh?
It'll take a lot to kill me off.
I've got the sickest armor
Kidding, it's just a kimono
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
telepathy
The queen wishes to speak with me, Master. I'm going to accept her invitation. It's dangerous, but way more interesting than just sitting around.
Don't worry if we're out of contact for a while. If that happens, I probably just need to focus on something. Or maybe I've decided to fight her. [ THIS IS A JOKE.......... ]
no subject
Like.
You're gonna go chill with eight arms bitch?
This feels like a real bad idea.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
@BUCKET
[Loaded question, but Bucky figures Ryuji doesn’t need the novel he otherwise wants to unpack on someone.]
no subject
I mean, at least as well as you can be without worrying about a spider eating your face off. And then your head off too
But otherwise hangin in there
How are you???
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
When the door opens, which the writer of this post assumes will happen, Eren's face is set in its usual expression - devoid of any emotion at all, except this time, there's a hint of stress wearing him down. ]
Been a while. Have you taken well to all this?
no subject
So what the writer of this post can assume is that Ryuji answered the door with a towel over his shoulders, still in hakama, eyebrow quirked as to who had come to his door, but nonetheless completely okay with his arrival.
His heart feels softer as his body grows stronger. Isn't that the opposite of what's supposed to happen when you get older?]
'Ey. Normally a "Hey, Ryuji!" is a standard greeting, but man, with you, anything kinda goes, huh?
[Smiling nonetheless, he lets him in. He can feel the awkward level of weight on Eren's shoulder just by sight of him. It makes him miserable to think that they all have to go through so much.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
telepathy
Have you ever loved someone?
[ Hope Ryuji wasn't in the middle of anything. ]
The type of love doesn't matter. I just thought I should try and understand that feeling a little more. ... Anyway, it's fine if you can't answer. I know this sort of thing is uncommon among magi.
no subject
shit
what
no
please
why??? Mordred???]
Uh...why? Do you have a crush on someone?
[Then there's always the... no. It can't be. Ryuji swallows, feeling a weird TOTALLY UN-OKAY feeling form in his stomach.]
Mordred... I... I'm flattered and all, but I don't think I'm really your type.
[GOD]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
telepathy
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)