Ksenia’s entrance to the Lower Ward takes place with the utmost subtlety: a deliberate shove forces the smaller of the two guards with hands on her wrists to stumble backwards into an ancient chair, causing it to topple and shatter into splinters on the stone near the entryway; wardens shout information to an apathetic clerk over the shrieking of every Atlantian obscenity ever recorded; another attempt to force a guard face-first into a passing nearby lantern fails; Ksenia’s lips bleed tulip as her captor’s patience runs out.

Yet, the fervor in his voice, the clenched jaw, the livid glare — it was like looking through a mirror and seeing a ghost of her past self staring right back at her.

As the last hunter standing, he held a duty to his heart. Protect Oliana and Danika at all costs! The blond raised his sword, brown eyes fixated on the competition. The draugrs fingers tightened around the handle of his blade, breath even despite the dire circumstances... The opponents were locked in their positions, a breeze passing through until- ching. The swiping claws a razor approached without hesitation and Peyton's blade narrowly blocked those claws. It retreated a few steps, attempting to parry around Peyton's defence, however, where the draugr's blade failed his light manipulation succeeded.

A hiss escaped the razor's mouth as the creature became infuriated, attacks speeding up. A grunt left Peyton's lips as the sharp claws of the razor sliced against his armour. The troublemaker was approaching, the blond being forced to block the razor's attack with his sword, enhanced strength activating. A roar of a battle cry left Peyton's mouth as he pushed on the blade, slicing out. The razor's right claws were taken clean off, blade managing to narrowly reach the creature's throat and decapitate it.

- Peyton Hayes in Now or Never

this post requires a bit of context, the tl;dr is that ZZ is having a maze event where participants have formed teams, and sephiroth, beatrice, and tohru adachi have formed the most chaotic evil team in the world, beato got her voice taken away by the staff npcs for being an annoying brat, and sephiroth just shanked adachi to test out beato's magic... and this is what she had to say to him:

beatrice stretches and yawns comically, cracking her knuckles and her back as she snaps her fingers, causing a letter to appear in the air and smack sephiroth in the face. "really? that's all you've got? you need to spice it up a bit! cut him up into tiny pieces! lop his head off! get creative! don't worry though. i see potential in you for villainy."

(this is what panfandom is all about, folks)

Silently, Emmet ventured the hallways of Halogan Manor, haunted by old memories and thoughts of a white-haired woman who was almost ghost-like in nature. Memories of a previous spouse managed to shift to those of Christina, the Ice Queen, someone who escaped his grasp several times. One moment she would be a mere few steps in front of him, the next, gone as though she vanished like a spectre. The white-haired Assembly soldier was capable of disappearing without a trace, becoming untraceable in a matter of seconds from her swift disappearances.

As he wandered the vacant hallways throughout the remainder of the manor, Emmet struggled with his thoughts. His escape from the primary ballroom for the party was inspired by his unwillingness to admit he lacked the desire for a love interest to replace his sweet Marina. Yet, other emotions accompanied those bittersweet thoughts of seeking a new individual to spend his life with. An unknown force seemingly laid claim to the lieutenant's heart, pulling him towards conclusions and actions he never dreamed possible... and... prompting him to kiss her on Valentine's Eve...

- Emmerson Halogan in To Be Deceived by a Phantom

"Sorry." Atticus apologized, "I was just-" he caught sight of the ring nestled snugly on Esther's ring-finger. That definitely hadn't been there the last time they'd seen each other. Depression washed over him like a tidal wave but Atticus didn't let it show. He forced the plastic smile he'd practiced a thousand times onto his face. "-happy to see someone I know." he said, finishing his sentence.

It’s rare that Lucien ever feels so comfortable in someone else’s bed. His choice in profession has ingrained prudence into his bones, and on most nights the only place he can find peace is within the confines of his cabin, rocked to sleep by the gentle motions of the sea, knowing that the safety of his crew is assured until the coming dawn. But, if he had to choose to spend the night anywhere else, it would be here, in Maren’s bedroom at the Early Weasel. The history between his crew and the tavern itself goes back for many, many years, and he likes to think that his comfort is derived from the fact that the establishment has always been a source of food and shelter for them whenever they arrive.

Of course, that does nothing to explain why he always ends up between Maren’s sheets, or why the warmth of her skin soothes him like a lullaby, but Luc doesn’t like to dwell on such questions.