#Family Run Winery

[hiraya-rawr]

WAIT OMG! How would Diluc react to Lucas wanting to be a knight???

for family agenda

i think lucas would be the type to keep it a secret for a really long time, even as a young child. he admires the knights not only because he loves his uncle kaeya, but mostly because he heard of the stories of his dad being "the youngest ever prodigy captain" and that just amazes him. when lucas finally finds out the truth on why diluc quit the knights, he becomes even more secretive until...

well, until diluc finds out because it cant stay a secret forever. honestly, diluc would be against it at first, but if lucas starts showing his determination to join the knights then diluc would allow it.

in fact, diluc firmly starts believeing that his son is going to be the greatest knight there ever was. even greater than him, greater than all of them, and it makes him so proud.

[dutybcrne]

Though the days blurred for him in Snezhnaya, Diluc could always tell when the day his birthday would come. It felt like a curse, the horrid feelings he’d so associated with that day never once failing to take hold of him, like a beast intent to tear out his throat. On day in particular, he would have honestly preferred that instead.

Even after coming back to Mondstadt, the day is something he loathes greatly. But Adelinde and Elzer, and Tunner and the rest of the staff do make it easier on him. There is always something special implicit in the way they go about their day, but never enough to dredge up the worst of the feelings. Just enough for it to seem like an appreciation of his effort and care for them. He’s truly thankful for it.

[xxspringmelodyxx]

"𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊?"

┗━━━⊱ 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒄 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑱𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ⊰━━━┛

⊱ 𝑰𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒔: 𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒄 𝑹𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒓 ⊰

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Warnings: Angst ⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿✿⋆·˚❀˚·⋆✿

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 @𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓9 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕! 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒙𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 <3333

The wind howled through Mondstadt, its chill matching the cold void in your heart. The grand clock tower struck midnight, marking the end of another wedding anniversary spent alone. Diluc's duties at the tavern and his clandestine affairs with Jean had eclipsed the sanctity of your marriage for the last time. The final thread of your patience snapped, and with a resolute heart, you made the decision that the marriage was over.

Gathering your belongings and your young daughter, Lian, you embarked on a journey back to your roots in Liyue. The journey was long, but your determination to start anew fueled your every step.

---

As the carriage made its way through the familiar yet distant landscape, you couldn't help but reflect on the early days of your marriage with Diluc. You had met him during a diplomatic visit to Mondstadt, where his stoic charm and unwavering sense of duty had drawn you in. His passion for protecting Mondstadt and his dedication to his family's legacy resonated with your own values, and it wasn’t long before love blossomed between the two of you.

In the beginning, your marriage was filled with joy and promise. You supported Diluc in his endeavors, and he, in turn, was your steadfast rock. However, as the responsibilities of running the Dawn Winery and his secret vigilante activities consumed more of his time, the distance between you grew. Jean's presence in his life, initially a source of mutual respect and friendship, gradually morphed into something more insidious.

Despite your attempts to communicate your feelings and the need for more quality time together, Diluc's focus remained elsewhere. Anniversaries came and went, each one a painful reminder of what you had lost. The final straw was this latest anniversary, spent entirely alone, with nothing but a perfunctory note from Diluc apologizing for his absence.

---

With a heavy heart, you made the decision to leave. You packed only the essentials, not wanting to linger any longer than necessary. As you walked through the halls of the Dawn Winery one last time, memories of happier times flashed before your eyes. Lian, sensing your distress, clung to your side, her innocent questions about her father breaking your heart even more.

"Mommy, why isn't Daddy coming with us?" she asked, her wide eyes filled with confusion.

You knelt down to her level, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Daddy has some important things to take care of, sweetheart. But we're going to see Grandma and Grandpa in Liyue. They'll be so happy to see you."

As you left Mondstadt, the weight of your decision settled heavily on your shoulders. You hoped that in Liyue, surrounded by the love and support of your family, you would find the strength to heal and rebuild your life.

---

Upon reaching the majestic gates of your family's mansion in Liyue, the familiar sight brought a flood of memories. The towering structure, with its intricate carvings and lush gardens, stood as a testament to the Lu Family's enduring legacy. The servants, upon recognizing you, bowed deeply and addressed you as 'Young Lady.' Their deference reminded you of your true standing, long obscured by the simplicity of life in Mondstadt.

"Mommy, why are they calling you 'Young Lady'?" Lian asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

Taking her small hand in yours, you smiled softly and knelt to her level. "Because, Lian, we are from the Lu Family, the most prestigious family in Liyue. This is our home, and you are my precious daughter, the next in line to this legacy."

---

Your parents greeted you with open arms, their joy at seeing you and their granddaughter palpable. Your mother, with tears in her eyes, held you close. "We've missed you so much, my dear. Welcome home."

Your father, the patriarch of the Lu Family, stood tall and proud. His stern expression softened as he looked at you. "You've made the right choice coming back. This is where you belong."

Lian, overwhelmed by the attention and grandeur, clung to your side, her wide eyes taking in the opulent surroundings. You guided her through the mansion, showing her the rooms and gardens that had been your playground as a child. The familiarity of it all brought a sense of comfort and belonging that you hadn't felt in years.

---

Life at the Lu Family mansion was a stark contrast to the life you had known with Diluc. Surrounded by opulence and respect, you began to rediscover the strength and grace that had been dulled by years of neglect. You immersed yourself in family affairs, taking on responsibilities that had long been neglected in your absence.

Your parents, recognizing your need to reclaim your identity, involved you in the management of the family's businesses and social engagements. You attended meetings, hosted gatherings, and reconnected with old friends and allies. Each day, you felt a little more like the person you had been before Mondstadt, before Diluc, before the heartache.

Lian, too, thrived in this new environment. She made friends with the children of other noble families, and her laughter echoed through the halls of the mansion. Seeing her happiness, you knew you had made the right decision. This was the life you wanted for her, filled with love, support, and the security of family.

---

Meanwhile, Diluc remained ensnared in his affair with Jean, oblivious to the seismic shift that had occurred in your life. His days were consumed by the responsibilities of the Dawn Winery and his secretive vigilante activities, while his nights were filled with clandestine meetings with Jean. He had convinced himself that he was doing the right thing, that his actions were justified by his duty to protect Mondstadt.

But as days turned into weeks, the absence of your presence began to gnaw at him. The empty halls of the Dawn Winery, once filled with your laughter and warmth, now felt cold and lifeless. He found himself reaching for you in the night, only to be met with emptiness. Jean's company, once a source of comfort, now felt hollow and inadequate.

---

The turning point came when an ornate invitation arrived at the Dawn Winery. It was an invitation to the annual Lu Family banquet, a coveted event that drew the elite from across Teyvat. Curiosity piqued, Diluc decided to attend, unaware of the shock awaiting him.

The invitation was beautifully crafted, with golden script and intricate designs. It spoke of a grand celebration, honoring the Lu Family's legacy and welcoming the return of their beloved daughter. The significance of the event was not lost on Diluc, and despite his reservations, he knew he had to attend.

---

As the date of the banquet approached, Diluc found himself growing increasingly anxious. He couldn't shake the feeling that this event would be more than just a social gathering. He prepared meticulously, choosing his finest attire and ensuring that everything was in order at the Dawn Winery in his absence.

Jean, sensing his unease, tried to reassure him. "It's just a banquet, Diluc. You'll be fine."

But Diluc couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was more at stake. The thought of seeing you again, after all that had happened, filled him with a mix of dread and longing. He knew that he had made mistakes, that he had taken you for granted, and now he would have to face the consequences.

---

The grand hall of the Lu Family mansion was resplendent with golden chandeliers and elegant tapestries. The air buzzed with conversations and the clinking of fine china. As Diluc entered, he was struck by the opulence and grandeur of the setting. The hall was filled with dignitaries and nobles, all dressed in their finest attire.

As the banquet reached its peak, the hall fell silent as the patriarch of the Lu Family, your father, took the stage. With a commanding presence, he addressed the assembly. "Today, I am honored to announce the return of my beloved daughter and my only heir. Please welcome her and her daughter, my granddaughter, Lian."

The crowd parted as you stepped forward, Lian by your side. Diluc's breath caught in his throat as he saw you, the woman he had neglected, standing with the dignity and grace of true nobility. Realization struck him like a thunderbolt.

--

As your father finished his speech, Diluc's legs gave way beneath him. He fell to his knees, tears brimming in his eyes. The weight of his mistakes crushed his spirit, and in that moment of clarity, he knew he had lost something irreplaceable.

"Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Forgive me. I will end things with Jean. I promise. Just give me another chance."

You looked down at him, your heart a tumult of emotions. The power was now in your hands, and the future lay before you, filled with possibilities you had never dared to dream.

You looked into Diluc's eyes, searching for sincerity. "You hurt me deeply, Diluc. You made me feel invisible and unimportant. Why should I believe that things will be different now?"

Diluc's voice trembled with desperation. "Because I realize now what I have lost. I took you for granted, and I see now how much I need you in my life. Please, give me the chance to make things right."

The depth of his anguish mirrored your own, yet it felt like too little, too late. Your voice quivered with the weight of pent-up emotions. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to be abandoned by the person you love? To watch as they slowly drift away, knowing you're not enough to hold their attention?" Tears welled in your eyes, and you fought to keep them from spilling over. "Every day, I watched you slip further into Jean's arms, and every night, I cried myself to sleep, wondering what I did wrong."

Diluc flinched as if struck, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I was a fool," he whispered, voice breaking. "I let my responsibilities consume me, and I let my fears drive a wedge between us. But I've seen the truth now. Without you, my life is empty."

You shook your head, pain and anger warring within you. "How can I trust you again? You made promises before, Diluc. You vowed to love and cherish me, but those words became hollow. How do I know this isn't just another empty promise?"

He reached out, but you stepped back, creating a chasm between you that mirrored the emotional distance you'd felt for so long. "I understand your doubt," he said, his voice thick with remorse. "But I swear to you, I've changed. I've ended things with Jean. I’ve realized that I can't live without you and Lian."

The mention of your daughter brought fresh tears to your eyes. "Do you know how many times she's asked why her daddy isn't around? How many times I've had to lie and say you were busy because I couldn't bear to tell her the truth?"

Diluc's face crumpled, and he sank further into the ground, a broken man before you. "I'm so sorry," he choked out. "I've failed you both. But please, give me a chance to prove that I can be the husband and father you both deserve. I’ll do anything."

For a long moment, you stood there, the enormity of the decision pressing down on you. The pain he caused was a deep wound, but you also saw the sincerity in his eyes, the desperation in his plea. This was a man shattered by his own mistakes, begging for redemption.

"I need time," you finally whispered. "Time to heal, and time to see if your actions match your words. I won’t let you hurt me or Lian again."

Diluc nodded, tears streaming down his face. "Take all the time you need. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes."

As you turned away, a flicker of hope sparked within you. It was a faint glimmer, buried beneath layers of hurt and betrayal, but it was there. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance to rebuild what had been broken. But it would take more than words; it would take time, patience, and a genuine commitment to change. Only time would tell if Diluc could truly make things right.

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, reader not in the best mental state (esp in first scene).

notes: FINALLY!!! its unedited so bear with me, i dont rlly have time to go through and edit + i've been sick as hell for two weeks straight now. but i hope u guys enjoy!!!

ALEA IACTA EST

You were trapped. 

You didn’t know what sort of witchcraft Pantalone used but you couldn’t leave his wing. You thought you might be going crazy, it took two days of making excuses for you to realize that something was severely wrong, and another three for the anxieties to start embedding in your head. You had your first panic attack in years on the sixth day, and now on the seventh, you were sitting in the small library alone—there was a book in your lap, but the words were swimming off the pages and your head was spinning. 

How was this what he wanted? 

You couldn’t understand how either of you were benefiting from this. He wasn’t getting whatever knowledge he wanted from you and you weren’t getting what you needed to know. You were just stuck here, alone and lost. Not even Pantalone was around for the past few days because he went to finalize a business deal in a Mondstadt port town, he should be coming back soon but even when he did, you knew he wouldn’t spare you much attention. 

How was this what he wanted? You wondered if it was supposed to be some sick sort of torture, wear down your mental fortitude so you’d be more apt to answer the questions he wanted. If that was the case, he would be severely disappointed when you spat in his face the next time he dared to make an appearance. Another part of you wondered if this was just how it would be—he would keep you locked up and alone so he didn’t have to deal with you but he also didn’t have to fear you running off and putting yourself in danger.

The more you thought about it, the more you convinced yourself of both options, and the more you hated your own soulmate. 

Seven days. It had been seven days of being trapped in this place with only Pantalone to occasionally talk to and of the few times he spoke to you, the majority were just of him going on a vicious rant about how the Tianquan of Liyue kept sidelining his proposals and how the wineries of Mondstadt were icing him out of the wine market with Liyue’s merchants. He claimed it was all some big conspiracy against him because there was no reason they should be blatantly disregarding his letters, all of his proposals were mostly targeted for their profit, which the Regrator thought was blasphemous in itself—the Jester apparently cared more for building relationships with the administrative and economic sectors of each of the nations than Pantalone’s dignity as a businessman. You, evidently, did not give him the outraged reaction he wanted and he hadn’t come back to speak with you since, leaving for his meeting across the nation without a word. 

Now you were alone, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you—and you knew it was not Dottore. 

You exhaled as you tried to focus again on the book laying on your lap but your head throbbed and you were forced to avert your gaze back to the ceiling, trying to quell the pain through sheer willpower alone. The Regrator’s library was filled to the brim, but with nothing that would be of use to you trying to figure out how they had trapped you in this sector. Books on economics, the aristocratic families of Snezhnaya, the history of the northern lands and all of the old traditions and folklore that noble children were brought up learning, undoubtedly so he could fine tune that mask of his, pretending that he had always been one of them in order to shear more money from them.

A part of you wanted to warn him that the more he tried to fake it, the more they would ridicule him, but you didn’t want to be totally isolated again as soon as he came back so you figured you’d just let him figure it out himself. 

Regardless, even with the massive amount of books that stacked his library’s walls, not a single one could help you in figuring out this spell. You’d never seen magics like this before—it was not elemental based, it was psyche-based. Every time you got down the hall, to the eighth window from your room to the right, your head started feeling light and dizzy, you felt sick and nauseous and were forced to turn back lest you put yourself in a very, very vulnerable position in a place where you could not afford any vulnerability. 

As nervous as it made you, at first, you found amusement in it. You were irritated and scared, yes, but more than that, you knew that Dottore could feel everything you did. So, you made it your mission to stay right at that eighth window for as long as you possibly could, just because you knew that you were racking your soulmate with that same nausea and dizziness and light-headedness that you were experiencing. 

Now, the amusement was gone and you were just scared. You were scared that you would be trapped here forever, never again to see your mother and your half-siblings and your grandfather. You were scared that you’d disappoint your father, that you wouldn’t be able to succeed in your mission and he would never be able to rest peacefully without justice having been exacted. And as much as you hated him, you were scared that you would never see him again either, that he would just leave you here to rot, live out the rest of your miserable existence confined to a single hall with books that you would rather burn than read. 

You hated that you felt so attached to him already—that even though the thought of him filled you with vile rage and agony, your body still ached for his touch, your eyes still longed for the sight of him walking through the dark doors of the library, and your bond still screamed for you to somehow end this war between the two of you so it could find peace. 

Even if peace negotiations were in your hands, you would still stubbornly throw them out the window, but they weren’t because he continued to completely deny you his presence. You were at his mercy, only when he decided, would a white flag be lifted. 

“Excuse me.”

You stiffened, an unwelcome chill ran down your spine as you looked over your shoulder to where an unfamiliar figure was standing in the doorframe of the library. With golden blonde curls and green eyes, no more than a decade older than you, you thought that the man might’ve been handsome were it not for that there was a dark gleam behind his eyes that reminded you a lot of your step-father, one that promised danger and deceit. 

He smiled and even though his teeth were not sharpened, somehow they looked more like knives than Theta’s did. “You’re the aristocrat from Fontaine that the Regrator took in, no?” 

“I am,” you said. Your voice was hoarse from days without speaking, you cleared your throat, closing the book and placing it down on the couch next to you just in case the man tried to take a seat there with you. “And you are?”

He wasn’t as unfamiliar as you originally believed. You recognized him from the event, standing with the rest of the Harbingers—immediately, you were on edge, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. He came closer to you and you bit the words that tempted to fly from your mouth as he picked up the book you had placed as a deterrent to take a seat on the couch right next to you, too close for comfort. You could feel his thigh brushing yours as he looked to the side to watch you, eyes tracing over your body once before settling on your face.

“Brighella,” he greeted, holding a hand out to you. “Tenth of the Fatui Harbingers, delighted to make your acquaintance.”

You placed your hand in his, albeit reluctantly, watching raptly as he lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently before letting go. His lips were soft and pleasant against your fingers yet it still made your skin crawl. You drew your hand back into your lap immediately, waiting for him to explain what he wanted.

“I was just curious,” he said, answering the unspoken question. “The Regrator is a very proud man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he never responds well to help. It came as a shock to hear that he was taking in an aristocrat from Fontaine as an advisor.”

He was lying—about what, you weren’t sure, but you knew somewhere in that statement of his that there was a lie, and though you had no way of confirming it, you suspected that it had to do with his initial claim: that he was simply curious. 

“He intends to expand the Northland Bank into Fontaine City,” was all you replied with, a thin smile painting your lips. “Even someone as proud and intelligent as him is not capable of such a feat alone, the Court of Fontaine is notoriously anti-Snezhnaya.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard.” Brighella waved off your words and relaxed into the chair next to you, eyes disarmingly beseeching as he watched your reactions. “But we have our own operatives in Fontaine City, I was surprised that he didn’t just come to me for information, rather insulting, actually.”

He laid the information in front of you like meat to seduce a starving beast, all the while he lurked behind the bushes and waited for you to lunge at it so he could drive his blade across your neck as an execution. You didn’t respond, maybe for a second longer than you should have, but the sudden information had thrown you off guard. 

It was him. 

The words rang resounding through your head, Brighella was the one running the Fatui’s operations in Fontaine. Why had he told you? What did he expect to gain from this? There was something you were missing still, but after a week of forced isolation and no progress in your mission, this was like a feast handed to you on a silver platter.

“Perhaps your operatives are just not capable enough for such a scheme,” you said dryly, but your voice sounded vacant even to your own ears, it was clear that you were focused on something else. 

Brighella raised a hand to his chest as if he’d been wounded by your words. “Oh, but the Knave and I had trained so many of them personally,” he sighed. “What use am I to this organization if my colleagues won’t even rely on me or my agents to deliver when necessary?” 

It was a rhetorical question but you didn’t know what to make of it, or of him. Faux-mourning tainted his tone as he spoke, a regretful expression on his face as he turned his eyes up to the ceiling above. 

What was he trying to gain from this? You asked yourself again, more desperately this time. His lips, still tilted up as they’d been this whole conversation, had a bit more of triumph in them than they’d had before and you knew that somewhere you had slipped up, revealing something you shouldn’t have. But you rewound the conversation in your head over and over and over again and you couldn’t quite place where you had. You’d been careful with your words, nothing to set off alarm bells—your cover with the Regrator’s expansion in Fontaine was true, but you were just not being quite as helpful as he would like you to be, and Pantalone was very clear in his opinions on their Fontaine plants and their inadequacy. 

It had to have been your tone, the emptiness in your response to his reveal about his subordinates in Fontaine. It gave away your interest, and you could play it off as if it was just a general interest in how they’d infiltrated Fontaine, but if your stepfather truly was his agent, then he would know very well who you were and your ulterior reasons for being here—or he would at least now have confirmation. 

Pantalone had told you that Pulcinella, Brighella and Tartaglia would be the three Harbingers who would be the least of your worries, but you thought that the Friar was much more dangerous than he made himself out to be. 

How were you supposed to proceed? You tested words on the tip of your tongue but you could not figure out what to say—if you were suddenly interested in him, he would know it was only because of the information he revealed, but if you were cold and distant, you risked him not returning and you needed more information one way or another, even if it meant consorting with a man that made your hair stand on end. 

You didn’t get the chance to speak up again though, as your lips parted to speak, Brighella rose to his feet.

“I should get going. I’d prefer not to draw the ire of my fellow Harbingers, but it was a pleasure talking to you,” he murmured, a small smile and eyes turned upward as he nodded his head down in acknowledgement. “I’ll stop by again soon, it’s cruel of the Regrator and the Doctor to leave you alone the way they have.”

Two days later, the Friar returned. 

You’d spent the two days alone reeling and trying to understand where you had gone wrong and how you could compensate for it. You needed a plan of action, and a fast and efficient one at that. Freezing him out would be stupid, as much as it might be the most comforting course of action, but you also couldn’t just suddenly be trying to get closer to him because he would realize something was up.

You weren’t stupid. If he had truly just been curious about you, he would have come much sooner than he did. He waited because he wanted you to be worn down and utterly alone, so you would latch onto him like he was a buoy in the raging sea. Unfortunately for him, you were far too used to being alone. As agonizing as a week of isolation was, it was not near enough to make you that desperate. 

But he had information you wanted desperately, so you wanted to let him think whatever plan he was concocting was working in hopes that he might reveal more to gain your trust and dependency. You thought it would be a slow and arduous process, not to mention agonizing, but considering neither Pantalone nor Dottore have come to see you in over a week now, you figured you had nothing better to do anyway and this was your best shot at getting what you wanted… and maybe, if you ended up being successful with this, you could free yourself too but you thought that was far less likely.

At the very least, it might force Dottore into action if he thought you were starting to get close with Brighella.

But that was a long shot anyway. Brighella was a type of beast that you were unfamiliar with. He kind of reminded you of some of the crueler members of Fontaine’s aristocracy, the ones who found entertainment in setting up trials that they knew would lead to one terrible sentencing, all the while smiling to the defendants face, but even then they were nothing like this. He was a wolf that portrayed himself as a sheep in the truest sense of the proverb and you just didn’t know what he was capable of, or what he wanted, and that was what scared you most—you didn’t like it when you didn’t know what someone’s intentions were with you.

Your stepfather was easy, all he wanted was more power in Fontaine, evidently to report back to the Fatui for a promotion—you and your father were obstacles in obtaining said power, so he removed your father from being able to influence your mother and you were certain that if you had stayed in Fontaine City, he would have gone after you too.

Dottore was somewhat frank in his intentions with you: he wanted you out of his life so that you couldn’t affect his research but he was keeping you here because he wanted information from you… and a part of you was certain that he was keeping you here also because it prevented you from going out and getting yourself hurt or killed, and that scared you because you didn’t know just how long he planned to keep you isolated here. Or if he ever even planned to release you.

Pantalone had been upfront with you: he wanted a way to get the Northland Bank into Fontaine, you had offered your help in exchange for assistance with removing your stepfather from the courts but you had no intention of giving him any help until he had pulled through on his end. And even then, you had never specified how much help you would give him—you were not going to give the Fatui more of a foothold than they already had. 

Not after what they did to your father. 

Brighella was an unknown. He had come to you with a goal two days ago, and whatever that goal had been, he had achieved it. You still couldn’t figure what it was, even after days of recounting your conversation to figure it out, and that unnerved you more than anything. 

“You actually came back,” you said quietly, eyes flickering up to where Brighella had entered the library. He brought something with him, you couldn’t quite tell what it was but it smelled good, and familiar. 

“I promised, didn’t I?” Brighella replied, amused. He came around the couch to sit next to you. He sat closer this time. 

“It’s been two days, I was beginning to doubt.”

“Yes, well, the Regrator grew a bit suspicious when he saw me coming from the direction of his wing, the last thing I needed was to draw his ire. The Doctor already has it out for me even when I do no wrong.” Brighella sounded aggrieved as he spoke but your ears rang loudly at his words. 

“The Regrator already returned from his meeting in Mondstadt?” you asked, keeping your voice free of all tightness but when Brighella only shot you a confused look, one that did not appear to be feigned in the slightest. “Ah, I see.”

There was no meeting in Mondstadt. 

You wondered if it was by Dottore’s will or his own that he had lied and left you here in isolation. You thought it would be easier to believe it was Dottore’s, you had already made him out to be your villain, but you knew better than to assume that. Dottore was obstinate and prideful, yes, but Pantalone was the one who had clawed his way from the bottom tiers of society to the very top, his manipulation would know no bounds—he knew that you were already struggling with Dottore’s refusal to acknowledge you, and he probably thought that his disappearance, after entertaining you for a few days, would put you over the edge.

Jaw tight and trying your best to keep your emotions off of your face lest Brighella take advantage of your distressed realization, you forced yourself to turn your attention back to the Harbinger.

“Here,” Brighella said, passing the covered dish over to you. “Tartiflette, I figure you must be missing home. I hear tartiflette has been rather popular amongst the aristocrats lately.”

I hear. 

Bitterly, you wanted to ask just how he managed to hear that but you refrained. Instead, you glanced down at the dish—it was covered with foil but it smelled good, just like the one you and Sylvie used to get from Cafe Lucerne before your father passed away.

You wondered if it was poisoned, or laced with something, you didn’t exactly put it past Brighella. Even if there were ulterior motives behind him bringing you the dish, it was thoughtful nonetheless. So instead of voicing your suspicions or refusing the dish, you took into your lap, letting the warmth of the bottom of the plate and the familiar scent sink in.

“Thank you.”

Brighella looked pleased, green eyes glittering. “You’re welcome.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, and you listened to the way the wind rattled the glass nearby. It was getting late already, you could see the moon rising over the trees in the distance. Nine days now with no word from Dottore at all. You were sure he was probably keeping the segments away from you too because you hadn’t seen a single one since that night.

After a few moments of silence, Brighella asked, “He told you that he had a meeting in Mondstadt?” 

You didn’t respond, you supposed that was answer enough because he let out a heavy sigh. 

“The Regrator does love his underhanded tactics.”

“And you don’t?” you couldn’t help but press, eyeing him curiously.

“I do.” At least he didn’t bother hiding it, shooting you a deceptively friendly smile as he relaxed back into the chair. “But it’s different, my underhanded tactics are for the greater good.”

“Many men have claimed to do terrible things for the greater good,” you murmured. “What makes you different?” 

Your subordinate killed my father, you were saying, tell me how that was for the greater good?

Brighella watched you for a second and then said, “Perhaps you’re right, but I’d like to believe otherwise.”

You hummed, looking away but you could feel that he was still looking at you and it was making you feel antsy, like a cornered animal. 

Finally, Brighella spoke up again. This time, his voice was far more quiet, as if he didn’t want someone listening in. “I wish we had more time to talk instead of rushing straight to business, but I fear that I’m testing many boundaries and patiences by coming to visit you and I’d like for you to understand why I am.” Curiously, your eyes focused onto him, he was still staring at you, watching your reactions. “The Regrator cannot give you what you want. He has no power in Fontaine, nor jurisdiction over any of the subordinates there, that is why he’s coming to you and trying to get your assistance. He does not want to use me as an intermediary for his business.”

There it was. You raised your chin a bit in surprise as Brighella’s words reached your ears and his motives became clearer. You didn’t doubt that there were other ulterior ones that he was keeping to himself, but this one was enough for you to get some clarity on the situation: Brighella and Pantalone were playing a game of chess for Fontaine, and both thought that you would be the piece that would win them the game. 

You realized, slowly, that you might just have a bit more power than you realized, and that Pantalone had been trying to keep you ignorant to it. 

It also gave you more insight on the Fatui itself, and more specifically, the relationship between the Harbingers. You had a feeling that the camaraderie shown during the event was just a show but you hadn’t thought the rivalry ran so deep as to having Harbingers competing for power through using outside sources. 

You wondered if Brighella realized just how much he had revealed to you. From the steady look in his eyes as he watched you, he very much did. You wondered then why, because it had to be something beyond just trying to get you to not help Pantalone—unless he was that desperate to keep Fontaine in his grasp. But you had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you finally responded with, pointedly meeting his eyes. 

He was studying you carefully and finally, he nodded, rising to his feet. “It’s alright. I’ll come back soon and give you some time to think. Just remember, what the Regrator promised you is not something he is able to give at this point and time. He’s making you think that you are the one dependent on him but without your cooperation, he doesn’t have a foothold in Fontaine, which is what he desperately wants.”

You didn’t respond as he walked out of the room, but before he stepped through the door, he turned to look at you one last time, “Enjoy the tartiflette—perhaps next time, I’ll bring you an even grander gift.”

You were not in the library the next time Brighella came to visit. You were lounging in your room preparing for bed when the knock came at your door. For a second, just a second, you might’ve hoped that it was Dottore, finally ending the war between the two of you—but as you called for the person to come in, and a head of curly blonde hair and green eyes peeked from around the door, the bit of hope that had sprung up withered in an instant. 

“May I?” Brighella asked, motioning for him to come into your room.

How improper, you thought to yourself, trying to force away the heat that rose to your cheeks. But you needed to keep talking to him, milk him for all that he knew before you made a decision about what you were going to do. 

“Of course,” you responded with, watching him carefully as he slipped into the room and made his way over to where you were sitting. He sat on the window nook next to where you were sitting at your vanity, leaning back on his hands as he studied you carefully. 

“Have you thought about my proposal yet?” Brighella murmured, his eyes were intense as he watched you, you could barely even hold his gaze and you had never had trouble holding anyone’s gaze before. 

You had. Of course, you had. With the newfound knowledge of Pantalone’s inability to actually get you what you want without you giving him what he wanted first, everything changed. Your whole position in this situation changed. You were still a prisoner, naturally, but you were a prisoner with power right now. You had two different Harbingers vying to acquire your support. It could change in a second, you knew that, you couldn’t get ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t just disregard the opportunity this presented.

You also could not take everything Brighella said at face value. 

You remembered the look in his eyes when you first met him, the skeevy one that reminded you of your stepfather and all of the other men and women in your life who had done terrible, terrible things without remorse. 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied instead, and Brighella sighed, disappointed but not surprised.

“Ah, I see,” Brighella said. “I haven’t quite gained your trust yet—well, perhaps this will change that.”

From his pocket, Brighella pulled out a piece of parchment, sealed with a wax Fatui insignia. He held it out to you and you reached out cautiously, taking it into your hands and turning it over to view the blank back of the parchment. You had no way of knowing the contents of it without breaking the wax seal, you looked up at Brighella, questioningly. He looked pleased, a small smile teasing at his lips. 

“This is a letter I have addressed to a particular subordinate of mine stationed down in Fontaine,” Brighella explained, leaning his chin on his hand, elbow propped up on his knee as he watched you. You could only barely bite back the sharp intake of breath as you looked down at the parchment again. “Yes, yes, I know, you don’t know what I’m talking about. But hypothetically, if you did, I was willing to gift you one of two options.”

“What are these hypothetical options?” you asked, your knuckles just a bit too tight around the parchment to pass it off as normal.

“You can keep that letter, and we can work together as partners. I can work with the Knave to set up a mission with the Jester and the Tsaritsa to have you head back to Fontaine, where you can use the letter as evidence to put said subordinate on trial before the Hydro Archon and Chief Justice,” Brighella said, your throat felt tight and swollen, your lips on the verge of trembling. 

Everything you wanted, but there had to be a catch. You knew better. For all you knew, the contents of the letter was empty, he could let you go down to Fontaine only to make you look like a fool when you presented the letter as evidence. 

“The second option?” you asked, proud that your voice remained steady and void of the turbulent emotions rushing through you.

“I will send it south and summon him back to Snezhnaya. You can exact your own justice here.”

What was the catch?

There had to be a catch, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure it out. You knew it was something more than just preventing Pantalone from stepping into his territory but Brighella was impossible to read and far more unpredictable than you expected. You were baffled that he would go to this length to try to get you to trust him. 

“You can hold onto the letter until you’ve made your decision, I-”

“My, my,” a familiar, smooth voice drawled. “What is this?”

At once, your blood ran cold as you looked up to see a familiar figure standing in your doorframe, violet eyes cold and cruel as he stared at where you were sitting with Brighella. Brighella only smiled thinly, mocking, as he looked at Pantalone and said: “Regrator, I hope you don’t mind me spending time with your new advisor, she’s quite the lovely little thing. I’m rather fond of her.”

“Is that meant to mean much?” Pantalone asked dryly, the smile on his lips tightening at the corners and you braced yourself for whatever he was about to say. “You’re fond of everything with two legs that will open for you.”

Your face felt hot, fingers tightening around the parchment as his words registered. Two legs that will open? 

How dare he?

Who does he think he is?

The barrage of livid questions battered your head, begging to be let loose but you bit your tongue, sharpening it as you instead responded with: “How crude, I know you had an unfortunate upbringing but I thought you’d learned better by now than to speak every vile word that crosses through that repulsive mind of yours.”

Next to you, Brighella hid his smile behind his hand and you at least felt a little validated even as Pantalone’s eyes bore down into you, you could see the promise for bloodshed barely veiled beneath his calm expression. 

“I’ll take my leave.” Brighella rose to his feet and to your horror, he leaned in close to you, taking both of your hands in his and you wanted to pull away, ask him what the hell he was thinking, but the words died on your tongue as he took the parchment from your hand before Pantalone could catch sight of it, subtly letting it drop to the floor before using his foot to slip it beneath the bed. His lips flickered upward. “Think about what I said. I’ll come by again.”

“No, you will not,” Pantalone interjected coolly. “I believe I have mentioned before that you are not welcome in my wing of the palace, Friar.”

“Then I will send one of my subordinates to fetch her to bring her to mine.” Brighella waved off the comment. “It’s no bother.”

He directed a faux-smile toward Pantalone as he slipped past the other Harbinger and left the room, leaving you alone with him. Pantalone stared after Brighella for a moment before turning his attention on you. 

You raised your chin and asked sweetly, “How did your business deal down in Mondstadt fare?” knowing damn well that there was no business deal down in Mondstadt.

He very clearly understood what you were getting at, the sweet smile on his lips just as fake as your tone as he said, “Very well.”

“I’m sure.”

The mockery in his eyes slowly slipped away the longer he stared at you—he wanted to say something, that was for sure, but he either didn’t know how to say it or he couldn’t, and you had a distinct feeling that Pantalone spoke more than he breathed so finding a way to say it was not the problem, he felt that he couldn’t. 

“The Friar is not to be trusted,” he finally decided. 

“There is not a single soul within this palace that is to be trusted,” you countered icily. 

He smiled, but the smile did not meet his eyes. “Fair enough.” 

There was a quiet tone to his voice, you wondered if any of Brighella’s statements held any truth to them, if he was worried that you would side with the Tenth instead of him, and he would lose his shot at expanding the Northland Bank into Fontaine. 

Something wicked swam in his eyes as his gaze cast over where you were sitting once more, voice more scathing now. “I do wonder how the Doctor will feel about your newfound relationship with the Friar,” and you realized that the Regrator did not fret over anything. And if he was backed into a corner like a wounded animal, he would lash out ten times as deadly. 

He was threatening to tell Dottore if you did not speak to his liking, if you did not dismiss Brighella’s option. 

Your eyes widened, just a bit—you knew there was nothing wrong with what you’d been talking about with the Friar. Dottore knew that you were here for one thing, and one thing alone: obtaining the evidence to convict your stepfather of your father’s murder. But you had a feeling that Pantalone would be spiteful and describe what he had walked in on as not what really happened, he’d put it in the worst light possible and blow the slim chance you had for Dottore ever showing up…

Or, it would finally force him into action. 

It was a risky gamble—one that you weren’t sure if you should take. Dottore was prideful and stubborn and you didn’t know how far it extended. It could blow up in your face, or it could finally get you what you wanted: the upperhand. 

You had never been a gambling woman before, but ever since you got to Snezhnaya, you were being put into situations forcing you to change and adapt just so you could survive, so you could bring justice to your father.

You didn’t think you liked the person who you were becoming, but you didn’t think you had a choice.

You smiled at Pantalone, but the smile was as empty as you felt. 

“I don’t particularly care what the Doctor feels concerning my relationship with Brighella. Tell him whatever you please, do pass on my regards to the younger segments though.”

“I must say your soulmate truly is a little spitfire, she has proven it time and time again.”

Dottore sighed as he looked up from his vial, heavy eyes focusing on Pantalone as the man slunk into his labs as if he owned them. His smile was tight and his eyes were not in the typical upturn they usually turned up whenever he was amused—whatever you had said to him had severely pissed him off, it nearly made his own lips twitch upward, wondering what exactly you had said to get under his skin so badly. 

“And what did she say this time?” Dottore drawled, not even bothering to feign curiosity, placing the vial back down on the burner as he looked up at Pantalone, whose eye twitched at the question. 

“It’s about time you stop playing this game with her, Doctor.” Was all Pantalone said in response, observing a failed, burnt test subject disdainfully, poking at it with a long, gloved finger before drawing his gaze back up to Dottore. 

“And here I thought you were playing the same game,” Dottore dismissed, although he would beg to differ that it was not a game, but the last thing he wanted was to get into a battle of semantics with Pantalone. “Was that not why you’ve been loitering around my labs this past week?”

“Yes, I was,” Pantalone agreed, but there was an edge to his voice that made Dottore suspicious, “and it backfired. A certain snake rose from the grasses to take advantage.”

“Hm?” Dottore tilted his head to the side, red eyes narrowing as Pantalone’s words registered.

“Now is not the time for your stubbornness, Doctor,” the banker warned. “Continue to disregard her and she will turn to someone else… or I suppose, she already has. I caught her acting rather intimately with the Friar in her quarters just before I came here.”

Dottore’s lips flattened and his eyes went cold, Pantalone caught the physical reaction, eyebrows shooting upward, mockingly. But Pantalone could only see the physical reaction, he could not feel how Dottore’s blood somehow felt like it was burning and freezing at the same time, he could not see how his vision tunneled and he could not hear how his ears were ringing. 

Intimately?

There it was again—that prideful and possessive feeling rearing its ugly head. You were his, only by fate and by chance, but you were his nonetheless, even if he was loathe to admit it. He ignored the hypocrisy of his thoughts, you were his and yet he had ignored you for over a week? He was laying claim to you after all of his denial and anger?

He had been doing what was right, separating himself from you to prevent the bond from getting any stronger. He wasn’t playing the same game that Pantalone was, isolating you to try to make you more malleable to his requests when he finally came back around; Dottore did not play games, not with anyone, much less with you. 

But was he okay with you turning your attention elsewhere with his absence?

No. No, he was not. The thought filled him with an emotion he hadn’t felt in over four hundred years, not since his years as a Fatui recruit before he’d learned to separate himself from his emotions.

“She asked for me to pass on my regards to the younger segments.” Pantalone smiled as he spoke, knowing that the words were bound to set Dottore off even more because how dare you send your regards to the children as you let another man into your quarters. “I’ll be heading to my office now. I have some paperwork to finish filling out. Do think on what I said, I expected a branch of the Northland Bank in Fontaine to come out of this arrangement. If it does not, you will have to make up for it.”

“Your expectations are not my responsibility,” Dottore said, voice clipped and icy and far more strained than he meant for it to be. 

Pantalone only let out a huff of laughter as he spun on his heel, shooting Dottore one last long look that had Dottore’s body begging for violence as a response. Nearly twenty years of him being forced into a corner because of you, and it was only getting worse.

“It is in this situation,” he said as he made his way out of the lab as quickly as he had come, leaving Dottore there alone with raging thoughts and turbulent emotions. 

The Friar. 

Brighella. 

Lip curled up in a type of rage he hadn’t felt in a long, long time, he finished putting his equipment away and reached for his mask, intent on heading to your quarters himself to understand just what was going on between you and the Tenth. 

It was the first time you’d been in Snezhnaya where there hadn’t been a storm battering the night. Once the Regrator had left you to your business, and you were finally able to finish getting ready for bed, you curled up at the window nook to look outside, where the air was still bitter and cold but the harsh winds had subsided and the moon was reflecting prettily over the frozen lake north of the palace. 

It looked calm and peaceful—you thought there was a beauty to Snezhnaya that was unique. The Hydro Archon and her acolytes liked to frame the nation as one big frozen wasteland but the more time you spent there, the more you realized that it was just not true. It was frozen, yes, but there were towering trees and massive lakes, the snow sparkled beneath the sun and moon in a way you’d never seen before.

You pressed the pad of your finger against the glass, a longing feeling sweeping over you as your eyes focused on the line of trees on the opposite side of the frozen lake. You thought that this might be your chance—the storms had subsided, you could make a break for it, but you knew deep down that the lack of storm was a deception you couldn’t afford to fall for. Just because the winds had died and the snow and ice had stopped falling, it didn’t mean that it was safe enough to travel through. You would still freeze. Perhaps if you had a pyro vision, it would be different but your hydro vision would do nothing to protect you against the cold.

You sighed, laying your forehead against the window and letting the chilly feeling spread through you, a stark contrast from the warmth of the fireplace emanating throughout your room. 

You wondered if you made a mistake. You had antagonized Pantalone, and he had likely antagonized Dottore on your behalf. It had felt good in the moment—a sharp jab that relieved some of the heavy pressure that isolation had put on you, but now the pressure was back and worse than before. 

You were not wondering. You knew it had been a mistake. 

Even if Brighella had been telling the truth and you held more power than Pantalone was leading you to believe, you couldn’t afford to isolate yourself from the option he presented. Dottore clearly trusted him enough to trust him with you, which you thought was about the biggest show of trust anyone could get from the Second.

And neither of them trusted Brighella. 

Your pride and anger had gotten the best of you—they had gotten the best of you when you had thought you had been in control. You laid everything out logically, convinced yourself that the option Brighella posed was just as appealing as Pantalone, forgetting that at the very least, Dottore and Pantalone were known threats to you. That yes, Pantalone wanted to use you and Dottore wanted nothing to do with you, but neither of them would risk your safety. Brighella was an unknown, just a charming and manipulative one that knew precisely when and how to strike.

You weren’t cut out for this. You let your eyes slide shut as you tried to force away the tears building in them. Frustration, anger, desperation, they were all becoming too much for you to handle. You didn’t know what to do. If Brighella was telling the truth, he really was the key to getting what you want, but you couldn’t trust him, you didn’t know what his motives were. Behind the pretty eyes and glittering smile was a snake with venomous fangs that could clamp down at any moment. 

You thought the courts of Fontaine had prepared you for this but the Snezhnayan court and the heart of the Fatui was a beast that you were not equipped to deal with. The courts of Fontaine were a beast, you would never think otherwise, but you’d been foolish enough to let yourself believe that they were similar enough to Snezhnaya’s that you’d be able to handle it. 

In Fontaine, your name had power and words were as sharp and lethal as daggers—as long as you put on a pretty mask and an entertaining performance, you would survive, but the aristocrats and observers of justice would eat alive anyone who could not put on a convincing and beguiling show.

In Snezhnaya, your name meant nothing and the only coat of protection you could place over yourself was Dottore’s position in the Fatui, and his forced bond to you. Your mask was shattering the longer you were stuck in the cold, and the entertaining performances you were so adept at putting on were becoming more pathetic than anything else. Danger lurked around every corner, not even just those who wanted to kill you as a means to weaken the Doctor, but also those who hated you for the country you come from. You had seen the way one of the Harbingers had looked at you during the event, and having even one Harbinger against you meant that you had hundreds of subordinates out for your throat to try to gain her approval. 

You were well beyond your depth. A vast ocean all around you and the currents were dragging you under, water filling your lungs as you tried to thrash your way back to the surface but there was an anchor chained to your ankle that you simply couldn’t fight against. 

You took in a deep, shuddered breath. You thought back to the old prophecy, the one that whispered that one day Fontaine and all of its citizens would be washed away by the rising waters, drowned by that which is supposed to protect them, finding their eternal rest in the sands until they became one with the sea. 

Sometimes you wondered if it was a literal or metaphorical fate, you had always taken it as literal and dismissed it as an old wives’ tale, but now you were questioning everything you held as true: you felt like you were drowning, your identity dissolving as the water closed in around you, and you felt helpless to it, just like how the ancient prophecy threatened.

Finally, you raised your head and looked back outside, eyes widening when you caught sight of a figure standing in the frame of your door through the reflection of the window, tall and imposing. You hadn’t even heard the door open. Even with the mask, you could feel the coldness behind his gaze. 

He only spoke one word:

“Come.”

reblogs appreciated!

[kaeyacollection]

Who's ready for my Master Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Crepus Theory!!

I originally posted this over at Hoyolab and people there seemed to really like my favorite joke theory that Crepus just tries to gaslight the whole of Mondstadt right after obtaining Kaeya

Majority of this will be the same but with little tweaks for the wonderful tumblr audience

This joke stems from Kaeya's introduction:

and the use of the word "rumored"

Cause it's not like it said beyond Teyvat or the seven nations just Mondstadt

And I mean like c'mon how many families are living off the grid in Mondstadt

(Actually... Don't answer that I forgot Glory's boyfriend is just

Out there in the bush with Razor...)

Initially I had the idea of Crepus walking around the markets one day carrying Kaeya with Diluc beside him running into Varka who asks:

"Who's the boy?"

"You mean my son?"

"Not Diluc the boy you're carrying"

"I have two sons? You know this??"

But then the Caribert quest came out mentioning Kaeya ran away from home near immediately and was dragged home by Crepus just as fast and it became even funnier

Cause imagine you're by the docks one day and richest man in town gets off the boat with no cargo but instead a tiny child you may not have seen before that Crepus seems to be very cross with at the moment and threatening to turn him into a leash kid if he runs off again

In a small town that loves gossip do you know how fast that information is spreading? Cause I do and Varka's knocking on Crepus's door 30 minutes later like:

"Is this what we're doing? We're just taking kids now?"

Both paths lead to Varka asking where Kaeya comes from and getting hit with a

"I think you're a bit too old to still be confused about the birds and the bees Varka"

Varka getting frustrated to the point he just starts demanding Kaeya tell him what's up

Love to see him following in his fathers footsteps of stressing Varka the fuck out

And upon hearing how his birth father left for juice and didn't return Varka went

"Good! That was ALL I needed to know!!"

Follow ups on if his father intended to abandon him or got lost in the storm and needed a search party?

Don't care!! You weren't kidnapped!!

Welcome to the knights! 🤝

Which bringing it back to it only being a rumor

In a town of alcoholics, who's gonna call out the one guy with the winery?

Here's some add ons that got sparked from the comment section 😘

Bonus panels would have included Varka showing up with Rosaria one day mimicking Crepus about "wHaT you ForGot I haD a Kid" sparking a trend within the community of just adopting random children to the point posters are made saying "In Barbatos name: See a child Take a child"

Alice seeing it and pulling a "when in rome" tucking both Albedo and Diluc(who is yelling he is an adult) under her arms and telling Klee if she ever sees someone in need of a mom let her know she'll send over the paperwork right away

And then the last bonus: Venti wakes up, walks in through the gate while playing a tune, and stops when he sees the poster, not sure if he needs to start yet another revolution, or if this one is fine actually

I imagine the posters had to be taken down because visitors were losing their kids left and right and the solution of parents pinning a note saying "not dead & still want custody" to their kids shirt didn't catch on but the saying still lives strong in the hearts of Mondstadt's citizens I mean look Bennett and his 27 dads Mondstadt may have a lot of orphans but the demand is even higher

Comment on original post:

"I have a headcanon where Kaeya fooled first Crepus, then the rest of Mondstadt but.this is too funny!! I want to see this happening!"

Which prompted one of my new favorite lines at the end:

"Wait by fool Crepus first do you mean like Crepus finding him out in the storm bringing him inside to ask him where he lives and Kaeya's just

"? I live here? You adopted me? Are you feeling okay?"

Cause I'm absolutely cry laughing over this that's so good but that also means when Kaeya runs away Crepus is just

"hey no no l'm not misplacing you a second time come home" "

[lemon-boy-stan]

BIRTHDAYS - DILUC RAGNVINDR

Summary: Diluc's always hated birthdays, but ever since he's been with you, they've gotten better. Genre: angst, fluff, light smut, family themes. Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of family member death, slight alcoholism, sad themes at the start (it gets better I swear), sex, pretty vanilla but still MDNI, unprotected sex, foreplay, breeding, pregnancy before marriage. A/N: I should have saved this for his birthday LMFAO but I WANT YOU ALL TO SUFFER. PS. I have several requests in my inbox and I will get to them, I promise, just have been facing a writer's block so I wrote this to get out of it!! Hope you enjoy this for now.

Diluc hated birthdays; ever since his eighteenth when his father died, but he knew you loved them. Diluc never drank, but on his birthday, he always found himself pouring glass after glass of wine, drinking the bitter liquid, staring ahead at the crackling fire.

The first birthday he spent with you, he forgot you lived with him.

He expected the house to be empty again, it's ghosts roaming the halls, maybe the faraway sounds of the maids cleaning before they go home. Diluc only ever drank grape juice, and watched with disdain whenever he saw someone drinking an alcoholic beverage.

It was late at night when you came back to the Winery, the maids greeting you at the door. "Luc!" Your loud, happy voice sang, a wave of confusion flowing over him.

"Happy Twenty-Fourth Birthday, Master Diluc!" You chirped, finding him at the long dining table, running up to him and flinging your arms around him, before smelling the wine on the table, on his lips. "Master Diluc?" You murmured softly.

He let out an angry, slurred sound. Your eyes began to brighten, and you bit your cheek to stop yourself from crying. "Master Diluc," you said softly, "what's wrong? Why are you drinking? You hate alcohol."

He grumbled wordlessly, "couldn't save him." His eyes bright and firey red, he looked close to tears. He reached for the bottle, pouring the glass for probably the nth time that night. As soon as he filled the glass, you snatched the bottle.

He was glaring at you now, and not his reflection in the window above the fireplace. Good. "Give it back," he hissed, the words slurred. "I'm not arguing, YN, give it back now." His bright, red eyes could've scared away an Abyss Mage, but not you.

You shrugged, finishing the bottle in one drink. The alcohol hit you like a freight train. You didn't drink alot, only on special occasions or when you were invited to drink with your friends, but even still, you were a lightweight.

You lost your balance and fell, crashing to the ground, body hitting the newly-cleaned floorboards of the mansion.

Diluc roared, the sound rattling the walls of the Winery as he jumped out of his chair, the legs squealing on the floor. He didn't care about the scratches.

"ADELINE!" His voice shook through the house and the maid came running to him, no longer dressed in her work clothes, "yes, Master Diluc?" He finally let the tears fall from his eyes. "Get a doctor," he breathed shakily, "now. Please."

Diluc did not drink on his twenty-fifth birthday, instead, he sat with you outside on the roof, watching the stars fly by. He brought you up through the window in the attic; "Kaeya and I used to come up here as kids." It was a very big window.

He turned to you, "do you want children?" Taking your hand, which was cold even though you were wearing his big, red coat. You smiled at him, "I want everything with you, Master Diluc." He smiled back, leaning in to kiss you.

"I didn't know you wanted children," you whispered softly into his lips, his coat making the tiles of the roof more comfortable. "I want them to look like you," he murmured, sliding his hand between your legs, "I want them to have your pretty voice." He kissed your lips, moaning and moving down to your neck.

"Oh, but Master Diluc, won't people be able to hear us?" But you arched your back nonetheless. He smirked, "it's my birthday, love." Brushing his finger against your panties softly. You moaned quietly, "mpph, oh, okay... If you insist... Nggh,"

"I'm going to give you my children," he purred softly, "and then I'm going to marry you." You moaned even louder at this, "oh, Master Diluc." And he chuckled softly, "you like that?" You nodded, "yes, Master Diluc, please." But all he did was smile, "'please' what, hmm? Be specific." Digging his finger into the fabric of your panties.

You moaned again, louder this time. "Please fuck me," you whined. He smirked, "I said be specific, dear." You clenched the coat with your hands, "please breed me, Master Diluc. I want to have your children, please." He smiled again, "good girl."

On Diluc's twenty-sixth birthday, you finally decided to tell him. It was a Friday, and you stayed at home with him the whole day rather than going out to do errands (the maids often did the errands, but you enjoyed going shopping. It was calming.), eating a delicious meal prepared by Adeline, no wine.

He was enjoying his birthday more this year. He was happy, but he was always talking about how he liked throwing parties in the Winery because it was always empty. Two people was a small amount for such a big house.

The other day you caught him at the store, looking at baby shoes. You'd thought you'd blown it already. "Aren't they so cute?" He bounded up to you. "Let's have a baby. Please." Archons, how were you supposed to hide it now??? You smiled and shook your head, "one day, Diluc."

Diluc turned to you, looking up from his meal. "Are you alright, dear?" You smiled at him, nodding. "I have... Another surprise," you said slowly, watching him. He smiled, "you've already outdone yourself with the presents, my love."

"It's... Kind of a present," you looked down at the table, smiling. You took the test from your pocket, sliding it over to him.

He spent a good five seconds staring at it before snapping his head up. Diluc never cried, but tonight there were tears falling from his red eyes. "You're pregnant?" He whispered, as if it was too good to be true. You smiled, "yes," he blinked, pulling you close to him, "Archons! You're pregnant! I'm gonna be a dad! We have to get married! I just can't believe it! How?... When?..." You giggled softly, so, so relieved that he was happy, burying your head into his neck.

"Three weeks ago," you said, "I was feeling a bit sick so I went to the doctor... They told me to take a test." Diluc cocked his head. Ever since his birthday last year you'd been trying, but no such luck. "But how..." He was in awe. You blushed, "remember that night where you got jealous of that random bard flirting with me while you were working?"

Diluc scowled, "oh. Him. But still..." You giggled, hitting him softly on the shoulder, "remember what you did to me after?" And now Diluc was blushing. "But how on earth did you hide it from me?" You grinned, "I have my ways, Master Diluc. You're not the only one who's got secrets!" Diluc kissed you firmly, "Oh, this is fabulous. Archons! I can't believe it... I really can't! ADELINE!"

The maid came running in, clearly still traumatised from last year. "Master Diluc! Is Miss YN quite alright? What's wrong?" Diluc shook his head, "no, nothing of the sort. Please send out a message to everyone! Tell them to come over immediately, we're celebrating!"

Adeline smiled, "a birthday celebration? I'm sure Miss Jean and Mr. Kaeya would love to -" but Diluc beamed, cutting her off. "No, no! Something much better! My beautiful girlfriend is pregnant! We're going to have children!" He looked so unbelievably happy.

Adeline's face lit up, "well, of course! A party surely must be in order... I'll deliver the message right away and call the other maids to help set up! Oh, congratulations, Master Diluc! This is wonderful news!"

You sighed happily, resting your head against his shoulder as Adeline ran off to send the message. Diluc gripped your hand, "I can't believe it. You have no idea how happy this makes me... We're going to have children! My... This is the best birthday ever."

GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

NAVIGATION

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

w.count: 1.7k - i am such a pile of mush for this guy

kaeya has always been the type to never admit what he wants. not to the people around him: his friends or family at the winery, not to the wind when he's by himself leaning on the sturdy stone bridge leading into the city, and especially not to himself. or maybe, it's not that he doesn't want to admit he wants something, but more so he firmly believes he deserves less than 'wanting'.

too many things had piled up since he was younger that his conscience had dulled and yearning for things was an action he couldn't bring himself to do. but there are things kaeya alberich wants- yearns for so deeply it makes him anxious.

a stable relationship with his brother. a break from the ever-pressuring uncertainty of his role in this life. a clean break from his homeland he hardly remembers and hardly cares about. hell, sometimes he even wanted to throw his whole surname away. kaeya alberich wants-

"kaeya!"

-you.

kaeya had finished up his tasks for the day and his head was so clouded that some fresh air would do him some good. he found himself leaning over the stone wall of the bridge connecting mondstadt to the wilds of the nation. one of his arms lay across the stone barrier with his hand dangling off the edge. his other propped up to hold his chin as he lazily zones out, shutting his mind off while the wind brushed his hair across his face, and neck, and chest.

then, your voice calling his name zoned him back in, brought him back into the here and now as you jogged up the slope of the bridge. he had to fully twist his body since the obstacle of his eyepatch kept him from giving you his fully brought back attention. his arm still rested on the stone of the bridge, and his back was fully straightened by the time you came to a stop in front of him with your hands on your hips. your lips were pursed, cheeks puffed like a fish. he had to contain his snickering- which he failed at by his twitching mouth you noticed.

"what's with the face, sweetcheeks?" opening your mouth in offense, you swat at his arm. he flinches away, not in fear or in pain but in jesting fun before laughing at your huffing. he could see puffs of smoke with each exhale of your nostrils in his imagination. finally letting go of the bridge, his arms come to rest on his own hips, mirroring you.

"kaeya!" the way you could say his name in all sorts of tones- it all rivals his favorite songs. this one... this one was definitely agitated.

"alright, alright." he relaxes his body and crosses his arms over his chest instead of mimicking you. "what's the urgency about?" kaeya watches you speak with body your body and mouth. he's not entirely focused on what you're saying- something you'll probably scold him for- but more so focused on your whole presence.

"kaeya," you hiss and he blinks before leaning his hip against the side of the sturdy stone. this tone was a warning- a light one. his eyebrows lift before he shuts his eye and nods like he is agreeing with whatever you had just said. "you didn't hear me, did you?" you accuse.

"mm," he tilts his head mockingly before he chuckles with a shake of his head. "not entirely."

"you're unbelievable."

"oh? complimenting me are you?"

with a huff, you take a half step closer to him and miss the quick intake of breath he does at the loss of proximity. reaching up, you shift through the thick, blue hair on the left side of his head and find his ear before pulling on it. jumping away from the wall he was leaning on, his knees instinctively bent- his hands coming up to hover over your grasp- to follow the downward direction his head was taking as you pull.

"owow-!"

"timmie came running into the city gate huffing and puffing that you coming out here and just standing in the middle of the bridge scared off his birds." you nag before releasing his ear. his hand comes up to rub the side of his head, palm cupping the small limb and his hair tangling between his knuckles in the process.

"i don't see how that's my fault," he whines. "those birds would fly away at the faintest gust of wind."

"i know that," you sigh before pinching the bridge of your nose. with your face hidden under your hand, kaeya couldn't see you well. you were still well within his bubble, but he didn't mind. leaning down, he tried to look under your hand to find your eyes again. when he's about what he guesses is eye level, your hand falls away from your face and you're smirking. "i just told timmie i'd scold you for it."

kaeya's stuck in bewilderment for a moment before he starts snickering, snickering that soon evolves into laughing that has him wrapping his arms across his gut. you stand in front of him proud at both your performance and the jolly laugh you pulled from the captain.

calming down, he witnesses you huffing in pride. your hands are on your hips again and although it's the same pose as your irritated expression from before, this version is so very different. you were like a coin of mora that had been flipped from heads to tails.

"oh!" your hands come up in front of you as one of your fists land softly into the palm of your other. "i did come to find you for something though."

"oh?" he mirrors. "curious minds want to know."

digging around in the small pouch you kept slung over your belt- a gift he got you a long time ago- you come to stand beside him. squeezing yourself between his right side and the bridge, your shoulder pushes just lightly into his arm and his body experiences a wave of warmth at the sensation. from your pouch, you provide his one good eye with two small cut-out cards.

"which one do you think klee would like more?" kaeya blinks his eye before looking at you.

"for klee?" his voice cracks lightly in confused and curiousity. "is there a reason... or?"

"no," you shake your head, "not really. getting her a little something from time to time isn't a crime though. kids need enrichment- plus it'll distract her from getting too bored for a while at least." you bring his attention back to the cards. one depicts a pryo and cryo slime stacked on top of one another. the other is a classic dodoco card. they had clearly been hand drawn and kaeaya wonders if you asked lisa for pointers. "now, help me choose."

kaeya crosses his arms again and leans in to get a better look.

"wouldn't it be a no brainer with dodoco in the running?"

"see, i thought that too. but like... isn't that too predictable?"

"sweetcheeks, she's 8."

"okay? and?"

kaeya sighs before taking the slime card from you and moving it up and away from your grasp.

"ah-! hey!"

"just go with that one. trust me, the fact you're thinking of her 'bestest friend' will absolutely thrill her." with an unoriginal sigh, you yield to his words. you gently place the winning card into your pouch again, careful not to wrinkle it. you offer your closest hand palm up towards him and kaeya just stares at it. when you don't feel anything put in your palm, you look at him expectantly.

"the other one, please."

"hmm," his arm moves to bring the card down behind his back. " no, i don't think so. i'll personally take this one as my payment."

"wha-?" your brow wrinkles at him as he pockets the slime card before you can start some sort of counter to get it back.

"my services can't always be free you know," he teases. "the unpicked option has to go to someone after all."

you let out a defeated sigh with a wave of your hand to signal he can have his way this time. flowers could've bloomed around his head at the glee of winning so easily and taking something you had made in the process.

your arm falls back to your side and suddenly your spine freezes your whole body when a weight pushes against your shoulder. twisting your neck, you feel kaeya's hair against your cheek before you see it. straightening up a little against his weight, his head wobbles where his forehead rests on your shoulder.

"kaeya?" that tone was sweet. sweet yet softly wondering what he was doing. hearing it so close to his ear sent a shiver down into his very core. his hand searches for your dangling one and he locks his pinkie with yours.

kaeya can't bring himself to hold your whole hand, but he can make himself lock your promise fingers together in this moment where it was just you and him. he lets a deep breath out of his body that feels like it came from the bottom of his feet all the way up his limbs. it was heavy.

kaeya's eye shuts softly when he feels your pinke link tighter against his a silent permission that what he's doing is okay- even if you don't understand fully. chances are you just think he's exhausted- and in a way, you're correct.

you were too sweet for your own good. god, you were so bad for his fractured conscience and heart.

kaeya has always been the type to never admit what he wants. but just this once, just with you, he can admit wholly to himself that kaeya alberich wants you so badly.

"mx. y/n!" little timmie on the bridge calls for you the next morning. "did you scold captain kaeya like you promised?" his little fists were balled in front of him like he was asking for some sort of secret information. you kneel and look playfully side to side as if looking for overlistening gossipers before waving him closer.

"just between you and me, captain kaeya was properly scolded by yours truly."

"good! he needs to be more careful!" you chuckle and while timmie runs off to feed his pigeons, you stand and feel kaeya's stare on your back before you see him, feel him grabbing onto your pinkie again and bringing your hand up into the air between you both.

"promise to take it easier on me next time, oh-harsh-scolder."

[the-ragbros-are-okay]

diluc is so so silly to me,,,, all while causing me immense amounts of pain and here's why

imagine your dad dies. yeah. you're devasted, emotionally wrecked, and then you disown the only other family member you have and run away to the in-game equivalent of russia

and then imagine you go on a killing spree, get BANNED from said country (he got banned from an ENTIRE FUCKING COUNTRY), and then go back home after 3-4 years

okay now imagine you're filled with an insane amount of guilt for what you did to your brother (and you realize that you left him alone oh Archons that's your little brother--). you go to work, sometimes at the Winery and sometimes in the city

your brother comes into your tavern multiple nights a week (if not all of them) and gets drunk off his ass and is hardly the person you knew 3-4 years ago

and you know it's all your fault

idk he's just silly to me :)

[mylevisdontfitanymore]

I hear you want to write but are having a hard time answering prompts. Don't feel obligated to answer this one either, this is free labor, you never have too!!!! But maybe it would help by giving you a free space. What's eating at you [pun intended hehe]?

Me and this anon be like:

You are so thoughtful, thank you! ��️❤️❤️

And you know what has been eating at me 😂 for whatever reason, I have no idea what turned me onto this idea, or why I can't stop thinking about it but there is something about the idea of completely, entirely spoiled Bucky that's been heavy on my mind.

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink under the read more, complete with lots and lots of stuffing, weight gain, and teasing/fat-shaming, too.

I'm talking about silver-spoon, generationally wealthy Bucky. He never has known what it is to want, yanno? Everything he could ever dream of, he gets immediately. He's never had a job other than learning what fork to use during meal times and which to use during dessert.

He looks like Wakanda, Jesus Bucky in spirit.

His hair is lush and shiny but his is proper, high-society style. So, it's cropped short at the sides and marginally longer at the top, coiffed back into stylish, fluffy waves. His face is clean-shaven, not beared, but his skin still glows and his marble-carved bone structure has been filled out by good food and constant pampering. He's always in the latest fashion, too. He looks the part of his high-maintenance, rich lifestyle.

When he was a kid and then a teenager it was totally fine that he fit so, so well into his lavish upbringing - including his taste for excessively sweet food and excessive amounts of food - because he had a speedy metabolism and the whimsy of a child, always running through his parent's expansive mansion or spending hours in the endless, deep green lawns playing by himself or roping one of the servents or his tutor into his games. His parents always were too busy with their socializing to raise their own messy child, instead passing responsibility off to someone, anyone else.

For a while, Bucky also took an interest in polocrosse, so he stayed slim for his elegant, equestrian sport. Loping through open, well-manicured fields on horseback, going after the ball with his racquet. But, as he grows and matures into a snooty young adult, with his twenties comes a slowing of his hummingbird metabolism and a boredom of sport. He has more important, more luxurious, relaxing activities to attend to than riding some beast that he doesn't even pick up after or care for - that's what the help is for. Besides, the medals mean nothing to him. He knows he's deserving and is a blue-ribbon winner without the physical reminders. Naturally, it's in his genes, he may as well be a hot-blooded, thoroughbred himself.

Bucky's metabolism slows and his activity level wanes but neither can be said about his appetite - not slowing, nor waning.

His hunger was one of those wants he's always, always had met through his generational wealth. His dire want for sweets. When he was younger, he always got a slap on the wrist for gorging himself on sugary sweets - pastries, candy, and the like - but never truly punished. His love affair wasn't tamed no matter how often he "spoiled" his own dinner, charming the cooks to feed him more than he needed, secretly getting their driver to go and retrieve him something from the city's candy shop, or even simply tiptoeing into the well-stocked pantry at night to give himself a tummy ache.

Now, his appetite is insatiable and he is growing more and more unfit seemingly like the hour. All because his days aren't spent working - he's never had to lift a finger for anything - but, instead, his hours are filled to the brim (and then some) with wine tastings, occasional tours of the winery grounds, cheese samplings, fine dining reservations or world-class chefs inhabiting his home for a few nights, and more. As soon as he's allowed by Mommy and Daddy, he moves off the sprawling family property to buy his own. He comes in and sweeps up a swath of land, putting a huge, pretty house on it and filling the rooms with staff. Most of the time, he doesn't leave his home. His driver's chauffeur experts in drink and food back and forth, bringing waves of delicious, expensive delicacies straight to Bucky's beautiful abode from the private airport nearby.

He. is. spoiled.

As he grows, he becomes rich fat, not poor fat - which becomes an important, prideful distinction in Bucky's spoiled, snobby mind. He is high society. He is well taken care of. So, of course, he's large.

Rich fat is fat that's undeniably plump and round with perfect curves. Rolls. Pale and smooth. No cellulite. No stretch marks. No blemishes. Just milky, pale swells of flesh that are soft but still firm and high. Something of a cherub straight from a masterful Renaissance painting.

His body tells the truth of his life - he doesn't lift a finger. He's practically a Roman Emperor, lounging on his side, draped in a sheet that barely fits over his bulging, excessive curves, fed the finest wine and offered peeled grapes that he lazily consumes until he's so full and drunk that he has to stop his servants by lifting a dainty hand, breathily moaning. No more. He can't take anymore now, he's so full that his fat, normally plush, soft belly has swelled to be as firm as a drum. But... give it an hour and he'll be snapping his fingers, rolled onto his back, under the weight of his belly, needing more. He won't even bother to get back up unless his servants help him, at that point, all he wants is more.

Always more.

Bucky becomes so insatiable with his life of luxury orbiting his round belly (rapidly transforming to be so large and spherical that it might be its own planet with a gravitational pull, keeping his hands to it at all times, unable to stop rubbing and touching his big body), that he hires someone new to live on his estate with him.

A masseuse.

Bucky becomes accustomed to eating until he feels fit to pop, stuffing down delicacies as if they're commonplace. Then, when he's so achingly tight, it's only natural to crave hands on his belly. He needs all the help digesting that he can get on a steady diet of peeled grapes, chocolate-coated strawberries, and other delicate fruits alongside the finest cheeses in paper-thin slices (but so many of those slices that he may as well have eaten the entire wheel by biting hunks off rudely) paired with jam and honey and bread and meats cured and prepared just so, plus bubbly champagne to wash it all down. That excessive diet leaves his tummy churning, groaning, and gassy. He has to stifle his burps behind one hand while the other works to soothe himself - it's instinctive, those rubbing motions.

Working? Aching? That just won't do. Bucky isn't dumb enough to expend energy when he doesn't have to. His private education afforded him better common sense. And he often goes to the spa, so he's familiar with massages. One plus one is two. Bucky needs a masseuse to rub his belly.

His masseuse is a tall, broad man - muscular and handsome with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. He has a pleasantly pale complexion with freckles but his nose that like it's been broken once or twice, bumped in the middle, and his hands are certainly the hands of a working man. He has obviously worked hard to get where he is with veins obvious in his arms and the backs of his hands and callouses on his palms. Even with all the lotion and oils, his hands are just the slightest bit rough thanks to those callouses.

If he weren't so handsome and hadn't proved himself to be so good at his job, Bucky might not keep him around. Thoughtlessly he could fire him, or any of his staff, and hire someone else.

Bucky doesn't like anything rough. He likes simple, easy, and luxurious. He likes softness. He reclines in overstuffed chairs and couches, expensive and sink-into-the-softness, and sleeps (and eats) on a perfectly swallowing-up bed. His body is currently being transformed into the same type of sensation - plush, soft, overstuffed. He likes that. He's becoming as excessive as his lifestyle - shaped perfectly for it.

He doesn't enjoy roughness.

He doesn't enjoy the bit of resentment on his masseuse's face and weaved secretly into his voice when they first meet.

Steve is a good worker, though, and Bucky appreciates that. He's accustomed to throwing money around, but he only throws it when it's what he wants or something he needs that he's having done his way. If a gardener, cook, or tailor doesn't work as fast or as hard as Bucky thinks they ought to - they're gone. Simple as that.

Steve works hard, Steve works fast, Steve is... interesting. He doesn't approve of Bucky's lifestyle, that much is clear, so he must need the money. But also, he doesn't complain. Not really. He does tease Bucky, though. It seems they both know their differences and there's something there. Something exciting. They both have their tastes and the clash of their differing tastes becomes electric.

Bucky learns to enjoy a little bit of roughness because of Steve.

Steve is called in to support Bucky either nearing the end of a massive meal or after his meal has been finished. His job title is "masseuse" and he does massage Bucky but, just, one part of him -

His belly.

His job is to aid Bucky's body in digesting after a splurge... if you can call his gorging meals and oversized snacks that happen every day, multiple times a day like clockwork "splurges." Splurging implies you don't do it all the time. Bucky is consistently stuffed to the gills. The only time he's not full is when he wakes up, first thing in the morning, and that's not always a guarantee - Bucky has gotten especially fat recently, it's why he needs Steve, and now, he can't always make it through the night without a snack. If he needs one, he snaps his fingers or rings the little bell he keeps by his bedside, rousing his live-in servants and making them retrieve a "light" snack for him from the kitchen. If he's had a midnight snack, his belly might still be firm and bloated when he wakes up. Regardless, Steve helps settle his belly.

At first, when Steve was hired, he did his job without comment. Now that they know each other a little better and each of them is rubbing off on the other with Bucky enjoying a little bit of roughness and Steve learning to embrace comfort and a taste of luxury - now, Steve prods and pushes verbally while he does the same physically. He rubs big circles on his big tummy, presses into the parts where he's the tightest to release pockets of gas and make him more comfortable, giving him more room (that he often immediately fills with more food), and kneads his soft flesh, using lotion and oil to keep his flesh supple and stretch-mark free. He lets his mouth run, too.

In low tones, just for the two of them to hear, he murmurs roughly about how he's never had so much to work with. Bucky knows under those sugar-coated words, he's calling him fat. Then, he goes on to say that Bucky feels especially tense today, is there anything particular on his mind? That's Steve telling him he's bloated as fuck, just a bit of sting behind his "polite" tone to communicate, oh my fucking god, you're a blimp. Or, he asks how his tailor is doing, the vague way to ask how he fits into any clothes at all. It's a damn mystery to Steve, after all, he only ever sees Bucky when he's naked with all of his soft, pale, thick fat on display. Round. Firm. Ready to be massaged until he's not so tight he could burst which, to Bucky, means he's ravenous. Bucky has no understanding of hunger. He doesn't remember what it's like to be empty, so when he isn't gasping in pleasure and pain, so full that his stomach is strained and there's food packed into him all the way up his esophagus to the back of his throat, he thinks he's starving.

Bucky savors those comments in a way he doesn't savor food - he just shoves it down. More.

More.

Bucky starts eating even more, pushing himself further, to make sure he can see Steve regularly. Weirdly, for someone who's never needed a damn thing from anyone else, he aches to impress this guy. It's strange, how much he wants to preen and parade around. He makes even more of a gluttonous mess of himself just so Steve can come in and berate him underneath his professional, light tone. It's embarrassing. Bucky has never been able to deal with humiliation or shame or anything other than resounding acceptance because of his high status, so it's strange for him to go after it now but...

God, is it good.

Steve commenting on needing another set of hands to reach and work on all of Bucky's glutted tummy sends a shiver down his pinned spine in spirit, in reality, he can't fucking move. He's so fat. Bucky almost moans at the thought of more hands groping and kneading his fat, working his cramps and burps out of him, easing the way for those calories to smoothly transform into more fat but, strangely, he only wants Steve to do this. He's used to hiring more help, having so many people around him, watching and aiding him in even the most intimate, private moments. This feels too intimate to share, though. He just wants Steve's big, strong, rough hands on his fat. He wants it bad. So, of course, he gets it.

He feasts on multiple rich, large courses. Steve massages him. He snacks on foods that would be enough for a meal if he were anyone else. Steve massages him. He gorges until he's hiccuping, whining, and curled around his fat belly like he can hold himself together, preventing himself from bursting at the seams with too much, too good of food. Steve massages him. He wakes up, belly gurgling with digestion that he can delude into being hunger, so he stuffs himself late at night into early morning. Steve massages him. Steve massages him through it all, witnessing him at his fullest and watching, judging, as he packs on more and more weight.

Bucky has been drilled to follow etiquette and be polite, but with Steve, he slips. He's just so full. And Steve's so good at his job. He can't deny himself the pleasure of moaning and burping loudly as Steve works.

"Buuuurpp-"

"Hic! Ah! Oh! Hic! Ouch! Hic! Hup! Oww!"

"Ooooohhh, yess. That's good."

"Uuuuuuurp!"

"Yes! Right there, press there, it's so tight, oh, oww-"

"Hnnnn-"

"M-mmmph- more. More pressure. Yes! Like that! Oh-uuurp!"

"C-cahhh, careful, I'm, oof, I'm soo full. Mmngh, I might - hic! - pop!"

Steve might disguise his interest well under a judgy, almost resentful exterior - which is truthfully how he felt when he got here, like, look at this fat asshole, Steve grew up struggling with a single mother making tough decisions between feeding her child, buying the medicine her child needed badly, or keeping the heating on to keep her child from getting sicker, no good options and no compromises - but he is interested. Bucky is miles and miles of plush flesh that jiggles and ripples. So much for Steve to sink his hands into. He's just fat. That's all he is. Greedy and oversized. He deserves a little shit for it. It's fine. He can squeeze a little harder than necessary, he can relentlessly push down on the part of his tummy that hurts the most just to hear him groan through a painful yet releasing burp, he can see his face pinch in pain when Steve goads him into finishing the last scraps on his plate despite having called Steve in expressed because he's too full for more, he can make comments about how he's getting fatter, bigger, and more spoiled. He can snidely inquire if Bucky has gotten his bed reinforced yet or wonder out loud how his personal tailor keeps up with his expanding waistline, actually, how does his tailor measure his waistline these days? Does he have to make a custom tailors tape or have they given up on numbers by now? He can pretend to be a little weaker than he is, just for an excuse to call the other staff into Bucky's master bedroom, "needing" help with rolling his big, voluptuous body or sitting him up as much as possible under that heavy, fat belly that overflows his lap.

It's fine for Steve to look over his shoulder as he leaves, his job well done, to smirk like a shark at one food-drunk Bucky moaning through a bite of buttery, flaky pastry, telling him off, "haven't you had enough, Mr. Barnes?"

He's the only one willing to challenge Bucky. The other staffers suck in shocked breaths and duck their heads, embarrassed and trying to stay out of the way, assuming Steve's about to be fired. It's going to get ugly. Right?

But it doesn't.

Bucky likes it. His stomach is groaning - only barely soothed thanks to Steve, complaining with heavy sloshes, deep gurgles, and loud glorps - but Bucky doesn't care. All he cares about is more. More food, stuffing his gob. More of Steve's merciless touch, his mean words, and his judgemental eyebrows. More.

"Nu-uh," Bucky moans petulantly.

"Only you would think that," Steve's eyes flick down to his gut like the big, round thing is offensive, "isn't enough."

Bucky crams the rest of his pastry into his mouth, puffing out his cheeks and dusting crumbs down his double (closer to triple) chins and heaving moobs, it's a challenge.

Steve rises to it, stepping back into his bedroom to slap his blubbery belly hard.

Even though all the others have scuffled away, leaving the two of them alone, they must be able to hear the clap of his hand against his fat. That, or, they hear the guttural way Bucky moans. His white, pale flesh is stamped red with Steve's handprint.

"You just have to ruin my work, don't you?" Steve sneers, sitting on the side of the bed next to Bucky's immobilized form of rolls and curves, pinned in place by too much fattening, sugary food. "Nothing is ever good enough for you, so you just keep going, don't you? You're gonna pop, you know that, you fat, spoiled brat? You need to learn you have limits. You need to learn restraint. If you don't learn your lesson by yourself, you'll force my hand to teach it." Steve threatens, his hand raised again, on the cusp of slapping his tender, overstuffed tummy again.

Bucky whimpers, pouting at him, his bottom lip crumby and stuck far out, "don't need your help," he argues, mumbling, just to be contrary. He really does need him. He wants him too. So badly.

"You do, princess. You need me whether you like it or not," Steve teases. "You can't do anything by yourself, not with this-" Steve rears back to slap his belly hard a handful of times until Bucky's whimpering and squirming around like a turtle flipped onto its shell, inelegant and stuck "-in the way."

Bucky moans loudly. It hurts! But it hurts like it does when he pushes himself over his limits, his gut too full.

"I'm gonna put you on a diet," Steve threatens, "teach your spoiled, fat ass what restraint and hard work is the way Daddy and Mommy didn't, they just shoved a silver spoon in your mouth and called it a day 'cause you shut up."

It's terrible. It's awful. Bucky likes it.

"Please-!" The word falls out of Bucky's mouth for maybe the first time. He's Bucky Barnes. He doesn't beg. He has everything he wants and more! He's never had anything he had to plead for, he always just demands.

With one last hit right to the top of his belly, where the bulging is the worst, where he gets the tightest, Steve knows all too well, Steve leans in. His smile is all teeth. "Good boy," he rumbles, "that's a start. I might be able to whip you into shape after all, God knows you need some shape, too," he unkindly grabs a handful of fat, shaking it and thus sends jiggling ripples throughout Bucky's entire, fat body. He's all lard. "'Cause right now you're just a blob."

Bucky says it again, as it turns out, it feels good to say, "pleeease."

Steve gives him a dark look and despite what he was saying about shaping up and slimming down with a diet, he wastes no time reaching over to the tray of fine French pastries perched on Bucky's elegant nightstand, selecting one at random and shoving it into his face.

Bucky moans his way through every chew and swallow. With Steve's relentless force, massaging and now feeding, too, he's due for a growth spurt like he's never seen on his own. He's gonna outgrow his king-size bed in no time 🥵🥵

[fernhelm]

pls talk more about narcissa

welll since you asked….

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹🦢⊹₊ ⋆୨ৎ

she’s her mother’s dress-up doll, she’s clytemnestra, she stabbed the dark lord in the back, she’s precise, she made an unbreakable vow to protect draco, she’s a strategist, she just wants to be left alone, she’s the ugly little duckling, she’s a lake that looks placid on the surface, but is raging underneath. if there’s one word for her, it’s bitter. she did everything she was supposed to and got fucked anyway.

narcissa in canon is defined by her role as a mother in a similar way to lily, but she is a mother who is present and therefore is able to disappoint; who sends her son sweets in the mail, but fails to protect him from joining a cult at sixteen….she is so interesting precisely because of those contradictions. she is the devoted wife & mother, ensnared by the same black family allegiances & obligations as the others, but she fights to create her own paradise within that aristocratic hellscape while still obeying its rules. she wants her cake and to eat it too. to belong to a crumbling, stifling magical dynasty and still raise a son turns out okay. her house is her domain (“this is my house, bella, you don’t give orders in my…”), it’s the small bit of power she’s carved out for herself. and you’ll have to pry it out of her cold dead hands.

my narcissa has really intense control issues. i think she has some paranoias & anxieties around eating. she likes to look impeccable so no one can sense the disaster going on inside. she enjoys the riches and prestige of being a black or a malfoy but she’d sell every piece of jewelry in her jewelry box to read a book alone by the sea…to me, she is a lesbian and she knows it, it just isn’t something she’d ever be willing to acknowledge. of everyone, she is in the most need of a rage room. imagine her in vintage dior and a black headband brutally beating the shit out of lucius’ car with a baseball bat (he cheated on her, and she wouldn’t care but he got caught and now it’s tabloid news.) after a childhood of disassociating to cope with her dysfunctional home, she has a hard time identifying her own emotions. she’s a marionette being piloted by a blonde chess prodigy in black patent leather mary janes. its like ratatouille. most of the time when she’s shaking hands and smiling serenely she’s thinking about a ballet performance or fencing or opera or wizarding history (i think she really likes history). in writing her it’s such a joy to explore who she becomes if she gets to do whatever she wants. what does she want anyway? outside of being a mother? do we know?

ALSO, something so fairytale perfect about her and her sisters…a pretty pair of three. she is the exact in-between of the two–if bella is fight and andy is flight, she’s freeze. she’s the little blonde outlier who was paraded around at parties until her face hurt from kissing cheeks. her sisters are the only ones who see through to the core of her. she needs both of them- bella as her shield and andy as her sword. when andy leaves it’s like she gets frozen in time.

my favorite pairing for her is alice, but i can accept lucissa if they’re in the background of a drarry fic. her and alice would live in a sea-side cottage in france and run a winery or something. she’s the ice queen and alice is the knight in shining armor. finally someone wants her to have every good thing she’s ever denied herself. she’s supposed to be a good little lady, and i think alice would make her want to go wild and roll around in the mud. yum.

[dutybcrne]

Dawn Winery Head!Kae during Luc’s absence make brain go brr

[skay-ali]

The lonely lady

new fandom

The sun was shining, illuminating the dark streets, although they were very busy, there was a tense air in all the people, there was nothing but gray colors devoid of life, frowning or tired faces.

You would miss this small city full of aristocrats and commoners or normal people who always made you smile with their mundane, moderately fierce lives.

What you wouldn't miss is all the trouble about crimes at the hands of aristocrats, dealing with the helplessness of not being able to do anything about how innocent people suffered at the hands of monsters, only crying over the miserable end they had and enduring living without discomfort with the perpetrators. . of stories abominable actions.

You would finally be free from your entire evil family, you wouldn't miss them, they never showed an iota of compassion when you came to the family, you were just a stain on their lineage, that's why they could barely sell you to a nobleman.

But they were foolish, by compromising just to fill their pockets and have more power, they opened their doors to ferocious wolves, who meticulously planned their fall for all the evils they caused for generations.

You were never treated as their equal, you were just another maid, it didn't bother you even though they were cruel, the tasks they made you do were the typical ones you did in your old life, it was like a respite from all the work you were forced to do. to survive in a modern, capitalist world.

In addition, you had good friendships, you were able to gossip with the maids, drink with the gardeners and coachmen, play like a little girl with the children of the employees of the family home.

Your family in this new world would soon see its end, this was the night, the night where you would no longer see the need to stay in a house pretending to be an exemplary young lady and the fiancée of one of the most coveted men in the world. the ladies for their beauty and high status, afraid that your family will punish you for running away and ruining their business.

But above all you would no longer live with the fear of seeing your end at the hands of your fiancé and his family, the vigilantes of this story who wanted to clean up the world, you were not ready for such a thing, you were just an extra you told yourself and as a good extra You would disappear without a trace.

The United States seemed like a good option, going to the future land of dreams, where many people in the future could improve their lives.

Just don't look back, don't remember the affection you have for those characters with whom you lived for a few months, they were only pretending to achieve their goals, you repeated yourself endlessly... but you... you didn't, you actually got attached to them, they helped you overcome the emotional attachment you had with your former friends, the servants of the big dark house in which you were raised.

But now you were free although your heart hurt a lot, because you loved those people, you even allowed yourself to love, the one you never imagined, because you always had reason as your guide, it didn't end well, that person never saw you in such a way.

Even if you tried, you were in his eyes the evil that he sought to eradicate.

Not even his radiant fake smile could lie to you, you saw it many times captured in ink, in his story, that radiant smile he gave to his victims.

It was sad how such a vigilante would end up, not being able to witness the wonderful paradise he created.

Oh if only you had known, your escape would only cause problems later on, those people you didn't expect anything from would surprise you.

“Where is the lady?”

“excuse me who?”

“Miss ___, your fiancée” the maid became impatient, something that did not go unnoticed by those present.

“Excuse me but what do you need from her?” asked one of the brothers, disconcerted by the interest of the servant they had helped, in the noble woman who lived in their winery.

“She must know…” the young woman said calmly.

“she is finally free… she will no longer suffer for that family”

It was a bucket of cold water, although the entire group was very insightful, they never noticed such a thing, it must have been a very well-kept secret on your part.

They knew they had to talk to you after the maid's big confession.

They just didn't expect you to have left.

It is hopeful to see how in the darkness a being emerges capable of bringing light to this place again, it takes being truly brave and determined to try to cleanse the world of corrupt nobles.

But there is something that bothers me, perhaps this new great hero will be corrupted, or will he think that now he is the evil that must be eliminated.

I think that after his great deeds, the hero should live his happily ever after, even if it is a childish thought, doesn't he deserve to be happy after having sacrificed himself?

After all this, the obsessive characters are unleashed....

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Through the Vine

Surrounded by some of the most coveted vineyards on the continent, your party sits in the shaded garden and listens to the old alchemist explaining why she needs your help getting drunk enough to see the face of god.

Every adventurer knows the name Ultani, at least those with coin and taste enough to order bottles of wine when they and their friends hit up a tavern after a delve. What an irony then for one of the Ultani family to ask for THEM at her table, and with a business proposition of all things.

Bent with age but bright of eye, Ivilia Ultani needs their help tracking down the location of an abandoned druid sanctum in the far wilderness and retrieving fruit sacred to the god of vintners and healers left over from a disastrous ritual. Her reasons? Apparently after decades perusing the alchemical mysteries Ivilia got her hands on a bottle blessed by the wine-god himself, and spent four days in a state of drunken revelation pencilling out her magnum opus. The bottle and her inspiration dry just before she finished, so rather than waiting years trying to trial and error the last piece or searching for another bottle she's decided to make some of her own.

Along the way the party will contend with family drama, the cutthroat politics of the wine trade, and the long echoing consequences of stealing from merciful gods. For their troubles they'll not only earn the thanks of a talented alchemist, but also potentially a new home should they hold true to their task.

Setup: Though she is the oldest of her of her merchant clan Ivilia is not the head of the Ultani winery. Her younger brother Valtar had the talent for cultivation and business while she veered towards eccentric scholarship, now Valtar's adult grandchildren run the business and the numerous sprawling vineyards associated with it while she lives in learned obscurity on the original family homestead.

While she occasionally helps out whit a new formulation of fertilizer or pest repellent, Ivilia is rather distant from the rest of the Ultani family who view her as a bit of a kook, who all to often uses her inherited share of the enterprise to buy obscure texts or finance futile experiments.

Challenges & Complications:

Actually finding the sanctum is going to be half the problem. Druidic orders are notoriously protective about the location of their secret clubhouses, and this order was scattered to the wind more than a century ago. Ivilia has tracked down the vague location where she thinks the sanctum might be, but unless the party wants to spend days combing the dangerous wilderness they're going to need to track down a more reliable source. Parsing through local rumours and records gives them three leads, an elf who still provides council to the local Count (goodluck getting an appointment), a vaguely helpful ditty that was recounted to a local bard (since dramatized in endless retelling), and an elder of the order who flew back to his home village in the shape of a falcon. Investigating the latter finds that the elder was apparently so scarred by what he'd seen at the sanctum that he transformed himself into a tree and has spent the intervening decades letting his mind and memory lignify.

The Sanctum itself and the landscape that surrounds it has been scarred by an act of divine wrath that still lingers in the form of dangerous fey and choking vines. Roots have undermined the walls and foundations, making chambers all to easy to collapse. In the centre of this ruin lays the undead corpse of Elmgrace , a once famed elven healer who sought the boon of the god Litirenn only to try and use that gift to reign the god towards his own purposes. Resentful at this deception Litirenn unleashed havoc on the sanctum, cursing Elmgrace never to die, never to rot, and never to rejoin the cycle of nature. Forever vinebound to the same altar he intended for the deity, Elmgrace's few last fanatical followers still tend to his broken body, attempting to brew up more potent poisons that will finally "free" their teacher from his torment.

Unfortunately, the fruit the party needs to pluck grows only from the plants impaling Elmgrace's body, which his followers are very protective of. Even after the party races through the wilderness and back to civilization with their prize they'll need to look over their shoulder for toxin obsessed cultists stalking their trail.

Further Adventures:

Milo Ultani has something to prove, the oldest of four siblings and a gaggle of cousins poised to inherit the winery he was raised to value hard work and loyalty to the family above all else. All his life it has irked him that his great aunt was allowed to dwell in their ancestral home, some of the nicest land his family owns, leaching off their enterprise like a withered limb. What finally drives him to act is Ivilia offhandedly mentioning that she intends to sign over her house and land to the party as a reward for helping her drink her way to enlightenment again. Resentment turns to rage in the young man's mind as a plan begins to form; A vine must be pruned in order to be fruitful after all.

When the party return with the godly fruit they're going to find Ivilia gone, her home broken into during the night her bed a mess of red that at first seems to be blood, but is infact wine. Surrounded by experts it doesn't take long for the vino in question to be identified as belonging to Jadash Hill, one of the Ultani's oldest rivals who are known for their unscrupulous business practices. It's at this point that Milo comes forward, reporting that some of their carters had gotten into brawls with those from Jadash Hill at a local tollhouse, sending the bastards packing and ignoring their threats of reprisal as idle boasting. This did indeed happen, but only because Milo is in charge of part of the family's delivery operation and instigated the fight himself.

The clock is ticking, the party has a bushel of miracle fruit that's going to rot and the alchemist they were supposed to deliver it to is nowhere to be seen. They can either find Ivilia quick, figure out a method of preserving the fruit, or read through her notes and attempt to concoct the divine wine themselves.

However badly he thinks of her, Milo would never kill his great aunt, having instead had his loyal carters drag her off to a small cottage on the edge of a property the family was keeping fallow for the year. In his reckoning the old woman won't live much longer, and while the emerging feud with Jadash hill keeps the family busy he can figure out a better place to keep his great aunt locked up. He wasn't delicate in his planning but he moves fast and the influence he has with the workforce as the presumptive heir cannot be overstated.

Art 1 Art 2

[cxseysims]

Madeline Welsh 🖤

Madeline comes from a wealthy family, with deep roots in Tartosa. Although she graduated Law school, she has always been a stay-at-home mother.

Emilee has grown and created a life of her own, leaving Madeline with quite a bit of spare time. She occupies her time with charity events and running Lavendar Haze, their winery & vineyard in Chesnut Ridge.

Madeline used to consider herself a romantic... but a loveless marriage with Emilee's father has left her cold. She may fill her time, but her heart still feels empty.

She holds onto her marriage in hopes of rekindling the spark with her lover. After all, family is everything to her. She was raised to believe family reigns superior... no matter what.

[kavehnanginto]

if you hold me without hurting me (you’ll be the first to ever did)

pairings: childe, diluc, kaeya, kaveh

synopsis: life was nothing but pain, from the past to the present, it all bleaks of lost dreams and broken records of what life should’ve been. and now that you’re here they wonder if you too is but a temporary moment of happiness that turns into a melancholic memory

tags: depressed boys, again, trust issues abt u, mentions of death, mommy kinda leave kaveh, thats so sad, their parents kinda died, daddy issues, HEAVY CAPITALIZATION ON DADDY ISSUES, lana del rey song mhm, there is some fluff, please trust me

CHILDE is, for you, the nicest man you have ever met. A gentleman who gave you flowers and showered you with love. But it didn’t matter that he loved you that much, because no matter he will always be in your heart. Maybe in some instances you fought, you apologized, just like any other couple.

But he was not like any other man.

You knew who he was, and the violent nature that he stands for. Although you never saw, you always hear his new target, his new schemes and… with that comes bursts of reassurance of your love, undying love, loyalty to him. The cycle repeats, and even the hundredth time, he will always hug you tight afraid you will go.

And with that you always hug him back.

Some say that such a man was so hard to love, but his lopsided grin, his cute gestures—they had no idea who he was on your view. Maybe it was just facade, or maybe this was the actual him they never saw. But it doesn’t matter. You were his first love, the one who showed him what true and unconditional love is.

And just like his family—he intends to keep your innocence over these matters, and he intends to love you forever.

“It’s okay to let me go… but please say the reason. I’ll give you all of me, all I want is for that to be enough.”

DILUC is a highly respected bachelor in Mondstadt. But to you, he is but a fragile dandelion drifting in the wind. The warmth, the silence and the breeze of the wind were most of the moments you spend with him. He sometimes wondered if this childlike domestic happiness is some fever dream, a sweet lullaby kissing him in the forehead.

Just like the sweet innocence of childhood, the nostalgia was coming back to him. You offered him something more, something deeper and something real than a nostalgic feeling, but never did the maids of Dawn Winery saw Master Diluc running once again at the lake with a smile on his face running to you. Being with you.

You.

With all the years alone, his house simply a tool to help with his daily necessities, you changed it all. You were something to believe in, that he was worth all this joy, that he was worth something. That even with the pain, the deaths, the heartaches he think he rightfully deserves, this one glimmer of happiness the Gods gave him, this beautiful soul that was cursed to love him and he was blessed to love as well.

Without hurt, without pain, someone went into his life and willing to stay.

“The sound of the fire never gives me warmth in winters, perhaps having one more person is why I no longer feel so cold.”

KAEYA never really had a moment in his life that he believed that someone was going to stay. And he too believed that when he first saw you. Even with new memories, even when the years went and go he truly thought that you too will go away. Such preciousness of a pearl was no match for him, rusting and broken. Fixed only to be cut and sold. Used and mended.

Everyone had their own idea of what the Cavalry Captain is really like. A womanizer. An alcoholic. Manipulative. . But Kaeya never minded the roles that society wanted him to play, rather embracing the accusations of his characters. But one thing that seemed to be true in all the gossips around the town is that he hold his secrets pretty well. Too well.

Even too you. You never really wanted to know, there’s this nagging feeling in your mind that he still not trusts you. After all, life can always go backwards but even so your lips will be sealed. That’s a promise you are willing to keep forever.

His eye. His life. He trusts you with his life, he gives you everything you wanted but maybe it wasn’t worth it to answer all of your questions maybe? Maybe he too believed that you too will drift like the wind, just like his past, or maybe it’s him, like a ship sinking in the seas that even with all these things he wants to say, he didn’t want to break that trust and love you had. That love he wants to hold, the person he wants to cherish for a lifetime.

He’ll do anything for you, and his secrets will only harm you even if you know deep down inside that he was harming you too.

“The day you learn the truth, is maybe the day we’ll bid adieu.”

KAVEH was kind, perhaps too much. He treats you so good, even when he doesn’t have enough. That was simply his character, always asking if you’re okay, if you want this or do that. For you, he was simply an angel who fell on earth. A beautiful person who longed to play and create, art and festive.

And perhaps that too was a facade. You find him once crying over a box of toys, and there you cried with him too. It was not important as to why he cried but making him happy, for his joy was one that made the vines grow in the old trees and the one that even rain could never cover. He told you what happened, his past, his “sins” and there you never realized what he was going through.

But that doesn’t mean you can be here for him from now. Kaveh, who blamed everything on himself, could never really grasp how understanding you are. Listening to his words, crying his tears—like that of a little boy finding his peace. That he never found, now as a tall child searching for answers. But still apologizing when he answers. How can he deserve to be loved without hurt. To confess his crimes and be rewarded with a bouquet of flowers.

He longed to be loved, but now he believes that for someone to hold him tight this lonely night, his chest no longer felt so heavy. His heart no longer felt so tight. As now, it is whole for you.

“Sleep tight, and may you rest in a blooming new day, sweetheart.”

[odusseus-xvi]

Doing a Summary of the French ccs' Lore (because we are forgotten)

(this last part is a joke don't take it too seriously)

Making a post with the lore we know about every French ccs for those who don't follow them religiously : (I might forget some things because I'm not an encyclopedia)

BAGHERA JONES :

Has said in the past she does see herself (her character) as human, like in the "Regret" animation but has also talked about "dying her feathers" instead of hair, and discussed with mike about not really having hair. Her species/lineage/anything you want to call it doesn't seem to be something set in stone.

When asked from where she comes from she answers Switzerland. It seems to have been accepted by Cucurucho. (also knows about The Shit Tower from the Team du Lundi server, though that might not be really lore accurate)

Doesn't seem to be interested in leaving the island itself, but is REALLY interested in freeing herself and the others from the Federation.

Considers BBH and Forever as her family alongside the rest of the french. Both Pomme and Dapper are her adopted kids.

Has both an underground Base and a Castle far north.

Dropped out of the election on her own accord, jumping from the top of her castle's highest tower.

(note : Please admins, cook something for her... She needs it... She tried for days to solve the book thingy, and Cellbit ended up having the last clues and doing it himself... Please I beg you...)

ETOILES :

Is a masked anthorpomorphic cucumber. No ambiguity about that.

When asked where he comes from, it alternates between France, and Far Away (if I remember well) (Was also part of the Team du Lundi server, but nothing confirms it is part of his canon lore).

What does seem to be conserved is his familiarity with all the french ccs : His close joke-flirting relationship with Antoine, his friendly banters with Baghera, his kind of disciple in redstone and create relationship with Aypierre, and his friendship with Kamet0.

Actually enjoying his time on the Island because of the challenges it offers him. Particularly enjoys showing the Federation and The Codes how they can do nothing against him. Considers himself a simple Warrior.

Has a cave a la BatCave but spends most of his time exploring and far away from it.

His favorite thing is bringing loot and stuff to the other residents.

Is freindly with everyone, and enjoys every egg, with particular admiration to Dapper.

(note : #EtoilesIsMyPresident)

AYPIERRE :

A simple human (note : a headcanon I like and that his community has kinda adopted is imagining him with Doc Ock style mechanical arms)

Comes from a random place in France he wrote kind of has a joke to Cucurucho. As for a potential server he could come from the guy is one of the oldest mc cc on the INTERNET. I could not tell you.

We don't really know his feelings on the island, but is portrayed as an opportunist and enjoyer of contracts. Absolutely willing to have deals with the Federation, though also interested in helping the others leave the island.

"n° 1 Gegg fan". Built a Gegg generator and is behind the Geggpocalypse of the election dinner.

Has a fun uncle/nephew relationship with Richarlyson, he revealed the Geggpocalypse to him before anyone else, and is building a winery to run with him.

Has a small house with multiple elevators and teleport pads leading to his huge Factory complex he will open to the public soon.

"I'm secretly building a machine.." before being cut off by Slime saying "WTF MAN THIS IS CRAZY".

(note : We don't know what that last part is about though most likely linked to the lore he's been brewing with the admins that is coming early August)

ANTOINE DANIEL :

We have no idea what he is, though might appears "human". "We all have multiple faces, Im just the only one showing them all". *about the face that was on his inside layer on his old skin* "I'd rather not talk about that, it's private."

Comes from France, though his reference to the Shit Tower into the new Shit Palace might mean he comes from the Team du Lundi server.

We don't know his feelings on the island, though distrustful of the Federation.

Lives in his Shit Palace that is currently unfinished, with the Moon and it's ring above. Has a secret room under called "La Fin du Monde (the end of the world)" with (old and not updated) thoughts about the residents of the island.

Is easily distrustful though trusts the french the most, and confides most of his secrets in Pomme.

Has a weird admiration/obession with Cucurucho.

(note : Come back antoine, I miss the kids...)

KAMET0 :

Ah ah ah ah... ah.

Etoiles did say he might come back at some point to do a cameo, tough not regularly.

(note : come back to the village Sasuke...)