#THANK YOU TWO SO DANG MUCH I LOVE BOTH OF YOUR STORIES

[coconut530]

100

[hunterofartemis7]

Adopted by the gods AU pt.11

Athena: *takes the boys back to their room and begrudgingly gets ready for the dinner party that Zeus just had to host*

Odysseus: *jumping on the bed* I still dont see why we can’t come!

Athena; *twisting her hair up in a bun* I still don’t see why you want to.

Odysseus: because we never get to go!

Athena; that still doesn’t answer the question of WHY you want to attend? Fuck even I don’t want to go.

Odysseus: well grandfather said the king and Queen of Ithaca are coming and I want to join the party with them

Athena; *rolls her eyes* you won’t be missing much. It’s just father telling the same stories he’s told since the beginning of time and us pretending to care. Plus, I don’t want you two around those people

Diomedes: *messing with Athena’s helmet* why?

Athena; because I don’t trust them

Odysseus: why?

Athena; I just don’t! They give me a bad feeling

Diomedes: they seemed nice

Athena: I could give you a list of people who “seemed nice” only to show their true colors moments later.

Odysseus: can we not come just for the food?

Athena: *picks ody up and sets him on the floor so he’ll stop jumping on the bed* your aunt hestia is cooking the boar you killed, so you two won’t starve

Odysseus: dang it

Athena: *ruffles his hair* you two behave okay?

Diomedes: okay mother

Athena; *takes her helmet from him and kisses his head*

Odysseus: *pouting*

Athena; Odysseus?

Odysseus: I wanna go with you🥺

Athena: *smiles and hugs him* I’ll be back before you two go to bed

Odysseus: promise?

Athena; I promise. *pats his head and flies off to the throne room*

Hera: bout time you showed up!

Athena: shush! *relaxes on her throne and immediately pulls a book out of nowhere*

Zeus: you know the point of you coming is to socialize right?

Athena; I’m content not

Hera: you could’ve at least put some effort in today

Athena: my hairs done isn’t it? And I won’t put effort into looking good for the people who abandoned my son.

Ares: here we go again🙄

Zeus: enough! Both of you!

Athena: 🙄 *goes back to her book*

Hermes: *appears in the throne room with the king, queen and their daughter*

Zeus: Welcome to Olympus!

Laertes: *bows* thank you for inviting us lord Zeus. It is an honor to be among the gods

Anticlea: *bows, looking at Athena*

Athena: *not paying any attention*

Zeus: *shakes the kings hand* it’s an honor to have a great king in our halls!

Laertes: thank you lord Zeus.

Hera: *sees the small girl hiding behind Anticlea* and who’s this little one?

Anticlea: this is our daughter Ctimene

Athena: *thinks* wow, got rid of their son and had a daughter. Love these people 🙄

Laertes: we apologize for not asking to bring her—

Aphrodite: don’t apologize! She’s adorable!

Ctimene: *waves*

Laertes: *smiles* we were originally going to leave her back at the palace but than we met Lady Athena’s son and figured they could play together

Hera: *confused* you met Odysseus?

Hermes: *turns to Athena* you let your kid into Ithaca?

Athena:🙄 Odysseus’s friends live there. I’m not going to stop from seeing them.

Laertes: and the boy was hunting a boar and was injured, so one of our hunters brought him and his friends to the palace to get cleaned up.

Zeus: oh…..well I’m sure the kids would love to play together! Where are they?

Athena: their room. I didn’t want them to come to this; they’d be bored,

Hera: well now they won’t be. Hermes will you take this young lady to Odysseus and Diomedes?

Herems: yep! *picks her up and carries her to the boys*

Ctimene; WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE~~

Zeus: Now! *claps his hands together* why don’t we show you around!

Anticlea: sure!

Laertes: that should great

Zeus; follow me! *starts walking off*

Hera: Thena come on.

Athena: *ignore her*

Hera: *gets up to her throne and whispers where only Athena can hear* if you don’t behave I will reveal to both your son and the king and Queen who they really are.

Athena:……you just want to ruin what little happiness I have don’t you?

Hera: if it means it’ll get you to behave than yes.

Athena: I hate you.

(@kisu-doodles for the art)

[wololo-01]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MRS. WATER!!!!

Yayyyy!!!! It finally here!! It my girl birthday!!! I'm so happy to finally celebrate Mrs. Water birthday <3

But actually that's not all I really want to celebrate and say.....

Oh boi ok long LOOOONG texts above ( there is Also some swearing so be warned too :'b) ↓

(also sorry for interrupting any of you guys!! For the people I tag, you all can just read the part I mentioned you and then skip all the rest!! <3)

*sigh* ok, I'm not going to lie here, since the last 3 years here in this community, it never crossed my mind that I would meet people as incredible, funny, creative and majestic as everyone here,And I'll tell you the truth, this fandom changed me a lot, I didn't imagine this would happen but look, this actually happened hahaha!! XD

To be honest, I had a lot of problems last year and this year too, a lot of shit happened to me and that really discouraged me in a lot of things,I had problems with my self-esteem again and wanted to give up trying anything and life as well I felt useless on several days but you guys, you all cheered me up so much!! I never had the courage to tell you this but if it weren't because of you all I really don't know what I would do :') everything was like: "No one will ever like my style" - BANG! Them find my style cool. "I made this drawing but I don't really think someone will-” BANG! People actually like it a lot “i made this fanart for them but what if then-” BANG! them like it a lot! I'm so happy! :'D

sorry, sorry kakskaak buuut also, There is actually some special people who I want to thank a lot, they are people who of all inspired me to continue and made me so happy:

@bluetorchsky & @androidcharles

YOU TWO.

Since the first time when I moved in to tumblr again to post my thsc art in a old account, I was scared to death that maybe there was no person who knew this game here and my style back then...jesus Christ"; _;, I was really about to gave up until BOOM!! suddenly you both show up in my notifications and I saw the reblog and read the nice tags you guys leave it AND- *slam table* AHHHHHHHHH/p YOU TWO LITERALLY ARE SOOO FREAKING NICE AND AMAZING!!!! Not only that but your both have such extraordinary creative and talent!! You two deserve so much happiness and love!! I was too shy to say this but now damn you both deserve to hear this!!! >:}

Blue your artwork is pretty!! Pretty like the moon and stars shining high in the sky!, your writing is extremely beautiful, like music on a violin or a piano at night or the ones pretty poems Written with so much passion, your writing is extraordinary! You dedicate yourself so much and manage to make a story seem like a book that you are lucky enough to know and read!! And not only that but your ocs, violin and accordion DANG I love how well written they are so much!! They designs are so great yet sooo fabulous and they storys is very veeeery good and greats!!!. I really hope that you continue with those Masterpieces that you write and draw!!, But not only that, but you are such a kind, spectacular and divine person, I really appreciate soooooo muuuch all the things you do here, your writing is done with so much passion and your art is so unique, Don't feel sad or anything just because you can't write or draw at some point, it's totally fine and you deserve all the time but also ALLL THE LOVE AND APPRECIATION in the world! ^^)

Katiee!!! First of all WHERE DID GET SO FREAKING AMAZING IDEAS AND CREATIVE?!?!!???? I SWEAR YOU ARE AMAZING AND FUNNY!!, sometimes I envy you a little, but I also consider you one of my inspirations!!!! Your art is beautiful, beautiful like a painting of flowers or like a clean and calm river, your style is so cuteeeee Those stick people really look like marshmallows!! I so eat your art!! >:3 (kakak sorry), but seriously you are a talented person too, many people here also like you and blue!! You are neat and I glad to be able meet you and your artwork!! (Also I saw that you also writing and it one about your au, I still need to Taste this new delicious write of you 🍽️) when you did the Toppat clan week YIPPEE I GOT SO EXCITED!!! I was scary to not be able to participate but I managed!! I have so much fun drawing all those stuff!!! The prompt You put it was really good also extremely interesting!!!, and talking about something I love so much your ocs!!! Especially Amelia! She such a cuteee cinnamon roll and a adorable blueberry cake!! I love her personality and the design Ohh ESPECIALLY the hair!! Its like a fluffy blue cotton candy!! You super cool, I really appreciate all the work you do, I hope I can see more, you are a talented, funny and absolutely magnificent person!!! Don't forget this!!! >:]

@capturecharlesau & @crown-of-roses-thsc

YOU BOTH ARE MY TWO FAVORITE AU BLOG HAHSHSHAK SUCH CREATIVE, SWEET AND AMAZING PERSON YOU GUY ARE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

Minnie!!, you super cool! Like really you such a cool and amazing person!! You also so sweet and kind!!! You like one of those cool kid in the school who I look like at and said "I wanna be like she!! She so awesome!! Yep, she deserves this popularity, she deserves nothing but the best for all things" In the last year, I was really down by some things that happened, but then I saw some one of the chapter you post it and BOOOM!!! Your au is what brings me back the joy!!! AAAAAA I was so hyped about your au!!! Jesus it just so DAMN WELL writing, I love the ideas you have and the characters?? NAHAHAHA THEM ALSO ARE SOOO FREAKING GREAT you manage to combine the words anguish, violence and comfort in such an incredible way! (And snicker you too do!!) Some of your chapters were thrown out at times when I really needed something to distract me, seriously you are a divinely talented person!! And other things I love about your au is Terrence, I'm still a hater of this piece of crap but I want to praise you so much about how you wrote it!! He really was such a good and badass villain/antagonist!!! God, I've even had some nightmares involving him, he really gave me the chills, The way you wrote it from start to finish was AMAZING, I swear I still love rereading it all again, to me it's like a frollo like the hunchback of Notre Dame with a bit of the personality of Clayton from Tarzan or Ursula from the little mermaid!! (Sorry they all are one of my favorite villains), Another thing I love so much are your ocs! Not only Danny but I can also say allwork and Benz!! AHHH THEM ALL ARE SUCH COOL OCS!!! I also need to say you are amazing when it comes to writing about Characters!! I really wanna know so much more about them all!!, Danny is still my favorite (he so lovely and sweet, he and you deserve the world) but either way, I thankful for you get in this fandom :') you deserve so much loveee and appreciation!! You made wanna go back in training more cartoon styles and expression because of your artstyle who is perfect!!!! I and everyone here will love to see your next works and arts!!! DON'T FORGET WHO FREAKING NICE AND AMAZING YOU ARE!!!!

Snicker!!!! (Hope it okay to call you that)) *sigh*.....

I WOULD LIKE TO GIVE A MEDAL FOR THE BEST AU THAT IS BEING WRITTEN.

Wow, God, how can I put into words in English how good she is??? I won't even be able to describe it in Portuguese CUZ GODDAMN YOU HAVE SUCH A POWER TO WRITE SOMETHING SO GOOOOOD😭😭 think I can say you and have the absolutely talens of god and the creative of a Talented artist who deserves much more appreciation and great recognition!!! When you showed up I was having a few bad days but YOUR AU SUDDENLY FELL FROM THE SKY AND WAS IMMEDIATELY BLESSED TO READ SUCH THE MAGNIFICENT MASTERPIECE!!! I love sooo much the idea of ​​Ellie being Terrence daughter It such a cool and think I can say, a really original ideas (I mean about ellie being Terence daughter, not Terrence having a child "^^) I also adore so much all the personalities of each, RHM is one of my favorites, I'm also curious about his story and the others, I can't forget to talk about the villain!, AAAAAA YOUR TERRENCE IT'S SO NEAT!!! I also still his hater but you done such a good job with him gave the big vibe of two-face villain or the cocky anger issues one (idk what it the name for this one XD) but seriously? Meeen I wish I could could puch him just like rogue from jewel au from @smoresthehalloweenqueen ((Smore you also another of my inspiration and favorite artist!! >:3)) and CC!terrence, for me rogue, CC!Terrence and CoRTerrence are pretty good villains but make Blood boils so much just by seeing them but hey hey! This why I love villains you like them very much but wish them all just die soon (cc!Terrence was one Only these two are missing and I can't wait to see them all in hell ahahaha >:D) you really are spectacular, take the time you need to do the chapters, but I wanna to said that you are also my new Big inspiration!!

@00lari00

LARIIIII FINALMENTE EU TENHO UMA AMIGA BR NESSE FANDOM!!! DEUS É BOM DE DEMAAAAAAAAIS PORRA 🙌🙌

Akaskska sorry XDD but I serious!! I so happy to be the only brazillian person here in the fandom on tumblr!! It sucks sometimes not having someone who speaks the same language as you to talk :'''b but suddenly A SMOKE ARISED AND SUDDENLY FROM BEHIND, WIZARD LARI FINALLY ARRIVED!!! HOORAY!!!! Lari we can not talk to much since you busy with your school and I am a shy idiot but I need to said, HOLY SHIT YOU ARE THE MOST FUCKING COOL PERSON I HAVE HAD THE PLEASURE OF KNOWING, YOUR ART AND CREATIVITY ARE LIKE MAGIC COMING TRUTH!!! And this au you are creating??? É MUITO FODAAAAAA 😩😭🤌🤌🤌 CARALHO VEI TU TA FAZENDO UMA OBRA PRIMA ESPERO QUE VC NÃO PARE!!! É MUITO INCRÍVEL TUDO QUE VC TA FAZENDO!!! (Sorry back to English KAJSKS) I can't lie to you, I sometimes envy you, you are such a special, kind and incredible person. It's like I'm talking like the coolest maid ever and I think 'god they're so cool why they are even talking to me?, but I also see you as one of my big inspirations!! I know I will reach the same level as you in talent and art but I at least want to have some of your courage to talk to people and be good at drawing just like YOUU!!I also want you to remember that you are so wonderful and a very magnificent and awesome person!! Anyone who talk shit about you and one it's a hater because them never gonna be in the same way as you are!!! Also take all the time you need it for draw, study is also important I am here to let you know that I'm rooting for you every day!! I can see you Gonna have a bright and wonderful future, thank you for being my friend and also so being my inspiration

And now a really special one...a person who I am very very grateful...

@doodlethings

Bunnu?, omg I think I will cry (I already am since I'm writing all this) YOU. HOLY SHIT BUNNU I SWEAR HOW DARE YOU BE THE COOLEST, AMAZING, SENSATIONAL, WONDERFUL, KIND, AMAZING PERSON??? WHAT THE FUCK, I WISH I COULD GIVE YOU THE FUCKING WORLD, GIVE YOU EVERYTHING YOU DESEVE IT AND MORE THAN THE WORLD CAN OFFER TO YOU, In fact, how long have we been glued to each other? Type 4?? 5?? Or 6 years?? Oof time passed so quickly I lost count ;_; but well fuck it! The most important thing I want want to said is, YOU ARE SUCH DIVINE ARTIST AND WRITER!!! YOUR ART IS AS WONDERFUL AS A LIVING PAINTING A MUSE PAINTING, And this art deserves to be featured, every detail of it is so impeccable and incredible, and your writing? They are like a special, treasured book that deserves to be read, even if no one does, I will, I will appreciate your art and I will read your stories for the rest of my life, again and again and again, You are like a sunshine or flowers in the snow, you are my bestie, my favorite person in the world!! And you are my biggest inspiration to continue drawing, you have cheered me up all these years and continue to this day, you have the best sense of humor and music of all, your gave so wanna tips and help me a lot to deal with live and learn to love and appreciate more the things!! If wasn't because of you? Geez I really don't know but this doesn't matter, you are the best, intelligence and great yet sweetly and maravilinda person in this WHOOOOOLE WORLD!!! I LOVE YOU!! THANK YOU FOR BEING MY BEST FRIEND AND BE AND TALK WITH ME TO THIS DAY, I'm sorry about my horrible sense of humor, my delulu theories, lack of brain cells and Also because they heard the stupidest story I tell it ksskskajk you got a bored dumb friend :'b but I happy to be on your side until now and I can't wait to see you shine more <'3

Oh and for the people I didn't tag and said here

I'm sorry I can't tag all of you 😭😭 if tag more people here this post will be post only a few weeks later akajsj BUT DON'T THINK JUST BECAUSE I DIDN'T TAG YOU GUYS IT MEAN I FINDA ANY OF YOU SO NEAT AND AMAZING!!! YOU GUYS SUPPORT AND LOVE THAT YOU ALL GAVE ME HAVE A SPECIAL PLACE IN MY HEART!!! A LOT (almost everyone) OF YOU ARE ALSO MY INSPIRATIONS!!! YOU LOVE EVER BLOG, DRAW, THEORY, WRITINGS AND AUS THAT YOU ALL DO!!! KEEP SHINING AND GOING EVERYONE CUZ YOU GUYS ARE FABULOUS 💞💞💞 💅 I WANNA SUPPORT AND LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU!!! YOU GUYS DESERVE A LOOOOOOOOOOOT OF MORE THAN I CAN OFFER AND SAID DO NEVER FORGET WHO COOL AND BEAUTIFUUUUUUL YOU ALL ARE!!!! 🗣️📢

You knows? Today also is my birthday and there is It's a tradition in Brazil where, when someone has a birthday, after congratulations and lighting the candles, the person gives the first piece of cake to someone important, but all of you are important to me soooo...Since this is the internet not real life, I wanna pass several first pieces to each of you all!!!! SO GRAB ONE GUYS!!! NYEHEHEHEHEHE 🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰 >:DDD

Well this all I can actually said, happy birthday again Mrs. Water and Happy birthday to me!!

Also have I got this stupid idea her ajakskdkk xb

[fountainpenguin]

"She's gonna cut my head off... but I don't caaare! They say, 'You clean up nice... Just like a dead man! Like a dead man!'" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 42 - “Raider Reunion (Martyn, Etho, Impulse, BigB)”

❤️ Read on AO3

�� Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

“Hey, everybody! Welcome back. My name is Josh, and we’re glad to see you here. Pleasure to meet you. Mumbo; it’s been a while. Etho! I just saw your twin and niece. He’s good with kids. She’s… not.” You both know this guy? BigB tries to sneak a glance at either one of them, but the only response he gets is Mumbo’s shrug. “I’m BigB,” he tells the enderman, still focused on the man’s neck area more than on his face. “I don’t shake. I’m an illusioner underneath the moth mods; from knox ZnHeITtk HTvkH IkItn. What are you guys doing out here?” If his terse refusal to touch hands bothers Josh, he doesn’t show it. He does, however, break into a wider smile. “Well, thanks for joining us today. We’re setting up for one of my favorite games: Is There a Limit? Specifically… Is there a limit to how many people we can have waterskiing behind a dragon at the same time?” “… What’s waterskiing?”

Scott gave BigB until sunset to talk to his old raider friends. BigB didn't bring a clock.

Meanwhile, Impulse seeks help for his goo problem and Martyn breaks into Cleo's house. Just a typical day in New Star Station...

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

InTheLittleWood

Location: Approaching wool farm, North New Star Station

🖤  🌕  🖤

Are you sure you can handle this? Every twitch in Martyn’s form screams at him to voice the question. Spikes and feathers twist inside his hearts. Nostrils flare. Maybe that’s why Bdubs blurts out his words without thinking them through: because keeping a shut jaw fills a guy with alligator wriggles. Technically, the proper way to sort out this lack of faith would be to take it to the sparring ring, but Martyn can’t do that either… Not with Rosejoy’s rippling muscles a hand’s breadth from his own. Hey, she has claim on the Fox Dragon’s turf. That can’t be an accident. And if it was, then it’d be just my luck that lightning strikes her twice.

“You did all right out there,” Martyn tells her, which is less direct than asking why she challenged Impulse in the first place. You think she knew she’d lose upfront? Huh. Maybe she gets drunk on the way people talk. They’ll have gossip and clip compilations for days.

Chunky fingers tighten around his own. Martyn looks down to the wobbly eyes of a much lower-XP phantom hybrid clinging to his hand. “What about me?”

“Aww, you too, slugger. You really showed Baker what-for. All tuckered out now, are we? Yeah…”

Lucky rubs a fist across his eye. It hides a yawn, but Martyn’s hearts spring forward like rabbits when the arrows come a’flyin’. The foxes he hatched would’ve liked to eat rabbit, actually. Martyn pats Lucky behind the shoulder, but throws a glance to Rosejoy to see if she caught what just happened there. And the stare she returns, uh… answers that question pretty dang well.

Sleepy kid. His energy’s dropping fast. The portals are still down, so there’s no dodging this by jumping AFK. We need more food. If Bdubs will listen long enough to follow orders-

“Aw, Lucky’s gonna love hanging with me,” Rosejoy butts in, thwapping him with the end of her tail. She caught Martyn on the way, which was probably the point.

And you’re sure? he wants to ask again. Lucky’s a member of the New Star flock; he’s never been alone with Rosejoy before. Mental ping after mental ping fires down Martyn’s spine. Rival captain bad. Rival captain take or kill. Brrr. That’ll wake you up in the morning. That’ll give you shivers all the way ‘til bed.

“So, what’s the big guy’s story?” Rosejoy asks, moving a few steps away. The shift of her wings and the grimace of his lips paint a picture Martyn only dares to imagine from the outside looking in: Two flock captains testing one another’s boundaries; they maintain a truce ‘cuz someone outside told them so. It sure ain’t instinct keeping the rules intact. She continues, bouncing every step. “Who would mod out of being a phantom with a wingspan like that? I bet wind resistance runs from him!”

Oh, it does. The glitter in her eye ripples Martyn to his core. The swing in her tail’s a little too lax for a guest who’s got everything to lose with raiders in her home. The soft smirk’s a little too wide. She doesn’t want to lead him aboveground… Does she? Will the Lone Spruce refugees even be allowed aboveground when the coast is clear? Unsure. And Martyn wonders then, with a quickening through his hearts… whether Impulse - if offered the chance to rejoin a flock - would actually say ‘Yes.’

I mean, I don’t see any reason Scott could refuse him, right? Impulse can fly. He’s got the wings, the strength, the speed… If the phantoms get to go, why wouldn’t he?

“Ah, just medical reasons,” he says anyway, clinging tighter to Lucky’s hand. “Nice guy. Just super pent-up, if you know what I mean. I just feel sorry for his wife. He can’t target anymore, y’know? There go the love hearts.”

“He can’t hunt?”

“Lost his soul teeth. We keep him fed.” We have a system. He’s with us. So back off. He can’t ascertain from her silence whether the implication came across, printed in his tone, but at least Rosejoy doesn’t press the topic harder. Seriously, she hovered around Impulse enough back there at the squall- Did you hear the stuff she asked him?

There should be enough souls left in storage to keep Lucky going. Martyn looked through the mess with Bdubs last night. Bdubs still has a few in his soul pouch, but whether he shares is anyone’s guess. Like Hels he will, Martyn gripes, because Bdubs already made his position quite clear when he caught Cleo offering a feed: That’s the captain’s job. And he’s not the captain.

Really, though? To refuse a kid? Technically Bdubs didn’t refuse Lucky, but Martyn’s not about to ask him to share. Not before exhausting all his options. And maybe not even then.

We prep the nest. I feed the kid. Simple, simple two-step plan. And if it comes to it, there will be no asking. It’ll be a demand straight from his mouth to Bdubs’ ears. And the boss better listen up if he knows what’s good for him.

Their first stop is for more blankets from the wool farm. Last night everyone was restless, off and on the roosting platform for hours. Martyn brought out the board games and Bdubs did a little improv show - a little open mic night - but the fewer souls they’ve got on hand, the more exhausted everyone will get. What’s wrong with a little cuddle pile? Aw, roosting’s such an effort. Nobody says that, but they could! And you don’t grow up to be Martyn InTheLittleWood unless you’ve learned to be prepared.

Mumbo used to compliment me on random stuff in my inventory. Cleo too, but this is Sad Times About Mumbo right now. Martyn is trying very, very hard not to think about Cleo. Just check the moon and her AFK status if you wanna take a crack at why.

“Lucky, keep your hands behind your back. You’ll spook the villagers, remember? They’ll run.”

“Okay.”

“That’s why I wear the hoodie,” Rosejoy says, keeping back. When Martyn shoots a glance at her, debating whether to shoo her even farther off (Because let’s be real, three approaching phantoms would get anyone’s hackles up, even if they’re on foot), she just smiles. “You go on and do your thing. I’m barracking for you.”

The villagers regard Rosejoy with way too much apprehension to approach the fence. Martyn can read it in their shoulders; not even Meriwo will get close, and it’s the village headman. Martyn pulls his hoodie sleeves over his hands and hops the fence the old-fashioned way. He can’t speak the villager language and New Star’s mobs sure as hell aren’t sparked, but he’ll find a way. He’ll use bold gestures with his arms.

“Oh, this’d be so much easier if they didn’t scramble off when they see sign language.” Or if I had BigB and Cleo out here.

❤️ Read on AO3

[lorelune]

part o - part iii

|| diluc ragnvindr x f! reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, fluff, post-trauma || wc: 16.2k  || ao3 || masterlist || NEXT →

You return to Mondstadt after many years away, sick, with an feeling that's all-too familiar and unwelcome.

❁ my heart, your song - @firein-thesky ❁

minors & ageless blogs dni

a/n: AH!! here it is :'^) the diluc fic!!!! thank you so much to @itoshisoup for beta reading (along with my non-tumblr pals han & ennis as well!!) this section contains four chapters, separated by partitions. if you'd prefer to read this fic with the chapters/parts separated, it will be posted as such on ao3!

this fic is a collab with the lovely cielo (@firein-thesky)!! our fics share a mostly canon compliant universe :3c give it a read!! it's linked above!!!

...

tags: alcohol use, descriptions of vomiting, reader with chronic injury, reader is referred to as 'little sister' by kaeya (not related), unreliable narrator/reader, soggy soggy SOGGY diluc, protective diluc, diluc and reader were childhood friends to lovers, reader is a healer

PART o: kismet

Once, on one of your several trips to Sumeru, you visited the Akademiya. You only went to poke at dusty books and sit in on a few lectures as a wanderer who liked a good story and a bit of learning. There, you met a scholar whose name didn’t stick with you, from the Rtawahist darshan.

They had the far-off look in their eye of someone who had seen a bit too much, for who they were. You knew that some scholars went mad in their pursuit of knowledge. Saw things that they couldn’t cope with even if they tried. Your new friend looked to be close to such a threshold.

Perhaps, in an act of pity, you took this scholar out for a drink. Or two. Or seven. The exact number of cups and goblets escapes you now. But what you do remember, as you sat together on a terrace high above Yazaha pool, legs swinging, was their ramblings. 

“There’s a map of everything, up there.” They gestured wildly to the sky, twinkling and bright, with the moon as company. “Deciphering it... Well. That’s another thing. But it’s there. And if we figure it out, fate will be in our hands to know.”

They continued, stretching their hands to the cosmos above them, as if their fingertips could decipher the orchestration of the Gods with nothing but passion, wine, and will. It was admirable, in your drunken state. Perhaps foolish to your sober mind. 

Nonetheless, such an idea stuck with you. Even after you departed from your bygone friend, and continue your wanderings, you think about it. You laid on your bedroll more than once, staring upward, and wondering—

Why did the gods mosaic the sky? 

You are just a mortal, how are you to know? You tried not to dwell on that specific thought. The one you find yourself coming back to, in your worst nights—

(If I could read the stars, and foresee a tragedy, is there any way for a calamity to be stopped? If you knew fate’s charted course, the crest of its fortune and the wake of its tragedies— could you circumvent them?)

(Could you have stopped your calamity?)

It was a self-deprecating thought, and it dragged you back to a place and time that was both unpleasant and unnecessary to recall. 

There’s no way to change the past, you reminded yourself. You could only move forward. Never back. You only balked at the stars in your weakest moments and pondered such ideas like fate and destiny. You could live in the illusion of carving your own destiny as you traversed Teyvat. One where you wrapped gauze around wounds after the disaster had passed. Heal sullied ground. You could do everything you could to help people. That was enough, you decided early on in your travels. 

You’d help people (and avoid the nation Mondstadt). Simple enough.

One foot in front of the other.

PART i: there’s a puzzle we crafted

You’re tired. 

So tired. 

It’s a merciless type of exhaustion that you rarely, if ever, let yourself slip into. To wander Liyue’s peak and narrow paths in such a condition is dangerous, even if the Millelith and Guild did a decent job keeping settlements of Hilichurls suppressed. In general, you can take down slimes on your own— except when you find yourself this deliriously tired. 

Normally, you don’t even bother traveling in this state. You would drag yourself to the nearest village, throw some mora at a layperson and set up shop wherever they had space. Be that an inn, back room, or stable— you aren’t picky. As long as you could rest for a few days, perhaps help out the village in your spare time. 

Your most recent wanderings, however, took you far onto the Yaoguang Shoals for several days, and by the time you returned to solid, proper earth, you were desperately low on essentials. Your nearest respite was an old village crawling with Hilichurls. Your next best option would be a miniature expedition onto the shores of Dragonspine and hope the cold wouldn’t kill you before you could find shelter and stoke a fire.

So, you keep going.  

All the way past Stonegate and the quarries beyond it. You’re only half-lucid as you wander into Mondstadt for the first time in years. 

You roost in an abandoned cottage some ways down the road. Finally resting for the first time in days. Never mind your still-damp bedroll or the structural unsoundness of the ruin. You practically fall to your knees and pass out, given your state.

(Running has made you tired, hasn’t it?)

When you awaken, you ache. (Familiar). You nibble on the last of your rations and it hits you—

You’re back in Mond, aren’t you?

Archons.

You should leave, really. It’s your first thought when you realize where you are. You shouldn’t be here. You’re not even near the city proper, but a panic unfurls in your chest like you’ve been struck. You immediately begin to pack up your things—

Two things hit you then:

One: You’re far lower on supplies than you had thought. 

This isn’t a new development, however. It’s just far worse than you thought. You paw at the contents of your bag, realizing that the dried zaytun peaches and jerky you had for breakfast were the last of your rations. The weather had been poor across Liyue in the past weeks, and many of the normal markets you would’ve run into were shuttered because of it. Regardless, you didn’t think you were on your last fucking morsels. 

Deep in your bag, all you have is a torn, unusable tarp and a pitiful handful of the crystalline shards you used to purify water. 

You don’t even need to look at your medicine kit to know the paltry state it’s in. Far too many empties. 

Two:  A burning sensation that splits you wide open and threatens to eat you alive. 

You barely twist your foot the wrong way. Hardly at all. Regardless, something like liquid electro shoots from the twisted (broken, mutilated—) parts of your right foot, up your thigh, and shakes you down to your bones. 

You stumble, using the wall for support and keeping your weight off the injury. It shouldn’t be aggravated this early in the day. You shake it off from your ankle, lowering yourself to the dirt floor to massage out any of the tension and subsequent pain that you can. You’ll be able to walk, surely, but it’s getting harder and harder to deny that the old injury isn’t worsening over time. 

You remember, vaguely, hearing tell that there was a skilled healer in Mond once again. Younger, a Vision-bearer in the Church, maybe? 

You know enough about the Church of Favonius that they would at least look at your injury, if this half-remembered healer really does exist and is affiliated with them. 

You hate that Mondstadt seemed like the best option. 

(Later, you’ll realize it’s all a bit like fate, pushing you toward that stupid city.)

You find yourself at a loss, shake your head, and sigh, “... I guess it wouldn’t... really be so bad to visit.”

You’ll just stay for a day or two.

...

Mondstadt’s front gate is so familiar it nearly hurts. The guards have different faces than the ones you remember from your youth. Their demeanor is the same— kind, open, like how people from Mond tend to be. They don’t hound you too much as you pass, and you enter the city without issue. 

Midday sun lights Mondstadt proper when you arrive (your journey from the quarries took a bit longer than necessary, considering your route went wide around a particular plot of land that you refused to go near.)

The city bustles with noise and activity. Merchants line the streets, carts and stalls overflowing. Seafoam banners and floral wreaths hang along the stone arches and walls, while garlands of fresh flowers stretch from building to building. The scent of fresh flowers, baking bread, and sweet wine envelopes you.

Windblume, you remember. It is spring, after all.

You hope the crowds of the festival will help you blend in as you meander through the city. You keep your head down, counting cobblestones and being quick with your purchases. Better to get in and out, probably. If you can snag a new tarp and bedroll, you could set up across the bridge for the night, and be gone by morning if you could track down that healer within the afternoon too. 

As you walk up the main run of Mond proper, toward the fountain and the smell of warm spiced meat, someone, archons, gasps from behind you and says your name.

(Later, you’ll recall this moment. Perhaps kismet turned on its axis for you to still and—)

You freeze, going stiff. You’d know that voice anywhere. Sweet and teasing, curling down your spine in a way that feels both ambiently flirtatious and horribly familiar. 

Part of you screams to ignore her. Let her think she has the wrong person and continue your journey in Mond unimpeded by an old specter. You could be out the gates in a number of hours, if not minutes if you really need to (run, run, run).

But, there’s a temptation. It breathes itself alive, from the back of your mind to the front, entirely unavoidable. 

(How long has it been since you’ve seen a familiar face? One that you know instead of just recognizing?)

You turn slowly. “... Hi, Lisa.”

...

And, somehow, you end up in the Knight’s of Favonius headquarters, with a perfectly warm cup of tea in your hands, nestled in a library you hadn’t been inside for nearly a decade. It smells of old parchment and leather. Steam rises from your cup, fragrant with Sumeru rose and Guili cinnamon stick with black tea leaves. You recall the scholars of the Spantamad darshan favored this blend; you shared more than a cup or two during your visits to the Akademiya. 

Lisa settles in the seat across from you, with a small box of pastries that look sticky and sweet. Your mouth waters. 

“How have you been, dear?” Lisa gives you a soft look. “It’s been so long.”

So long, you add to yourself. Sitting across from Lisa is giving you a gut-twisting sense of deja vu that has your palms sweating.

“I’ve been well,” you say, gently. “Travelling, still.”

“Oh, how exciting.” Lisa smiles and lays her cheek on her palm. “What was your most recent destination?”

You hummed. “I recently went to Natlan’s capital, just for a few months. I ended up staying with a smith who gave me odd jobs in exchange for housing.”

“Oh, wow,” Lisa preens for you. “And before that? I apologize, dear, I’m not caught up with your journeys.”

Ah, the lack of letters.

“I apologize.” You rub your forehead. “I haven’t been writing lately. It’s been... hard to keep track of things, though it’s not an excuse.”

“I would disagree.” She flashes you a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been crisscrossing Teyvat; it makes perfect sense why you would struggle to keep in touch with folks. I’m sure you’ve met plenty of friends on your travels, too. I imagine you have lots to juggle.”

Lisa is partially correct, you suppose.

“You continue to give me so much amnesty— too kind,” you laugh, and lean back in your chair. 

Lisa looks a bit wistful as she puts down her cup in exchange for one of the pastries. You recognize the expression on her. You’ve only seen her wear it once before.

“How long are you staying in Mond?” Lisa asks, nodding down to the box. You leave the treats untouched.

“Not long.” You refuse to look at her as you answer, “Just for the day. I needed some supplies and Mondstadt was the most convenient.”

It’s a clinical answer. One you say intentionally, perfectly, so she can’t poke holes in your logic. You hope, pray, she doesn’t push back on your short visit. Any longer, and you might accidentally run into more faces you don’t wish to see. Lisa was tangentially related to... everything, but she was the least obtrusive person you could have run into. Still, you’re in the lion’s den, in the Ordo’s HQ, for a cup of tea, praying that you can slip in and out undetected outside of Lisa.

(It’s easier like this, you tell yourself. You can’t get twisted up in this place again.)

Lisa examines you, tracing you up and down with her gaze in a way that’s horribly disarming. If it was from anyone else, you’d think they were checking you out, especially with the sweet, upward quirk of her lips. But, this is Lisa, and you had forgotten how astute she is.

“Only a day? That’s a shame.” She sighs, sitting back and stirring the tiny spoon perched in her teacup. “It's Windblume. You should stay.”

“I could,” you muse and give her a sympathetic smile. “But, I don’t think it would be wise. It would be better if I got on my way quickly.”

She raises an eyebrow. “How far back would a few days in Mondstadt put you on your travel plans?” 

‘Plans’. 

You nearly bark out a laugh, but you keep it lodged in your throat. 

“Not terribly far, but I... I don’t want to stay, Lisa.” You reach across the table and squeeze her free hand. “It isn’t good for me to linger here.”

The look she gives you breaks your heart. Her brows wilt, her eyes get a little sadder, and she grips your hand unyieldingly. “... Are you sure, sweetheart? I’m sure the Knights could put together some lodging for you—”

She presses, and you hate the feeling of it. You know her kindness is not misplaced, but it makes you roll around in your skin regardless. Archons. You interrupt her with a tight smile, “Truly, Lisa, I am grateful for the offer, but I will be on my way come tomorrow morning. Perhaps another year.”

“Perhaps.”

You sip your tea in silence for a moment. You stew, barely, not at her specifically but circumstance. It boils just underneath your skin, just as it has been since you entered Mond’s border. Speaking to Lisa has only made the feeling grow and burn. 

You can’t meet her gaze— you can’t. You can feel it on you regardless. You know you’ll see more pity and maybe that familiar bite of anger she wields so well. 

“Why don’t you tell me when and how you got that Vision then?” She nods low, down to your waist. Your dendro Vision hums there, tied to you with a fraying, braided string that desperately needs replacing. 

There isn’t a problem with indulging a bit of... this, is there? You’re only sitting to chat. Drinking some tea. You can hunt for that healer and duck out of Mond’s walls by sundown. Easy. You pluck one of the buttery-looking pastries from the box and plop it on your plate. 

“Sure, but only if I can get a refill on this tea.” You smile and raise your cup.

...

You lose track of time, talking to Lisa. 

You do tell her how you obtained your Vision, and of your subsequent journey through Snezhnaya to its port following your graduation. She tells you some of the new gossip of Ordo Favonius, and that she’s been thinking about picking out a ring to give to Jean (though, she has a hunch the other already has one in mind. Lisa thinks it'll be fun to meddle with whatever precise plan the Acting Grand Master (nice) has in place.)

She continues to pour you tea and push more baked goods onto your plate. You enjoy them, and her company. It’s a rare treat to sit down for so long with nothing more than chatting on your mind. 

“How was studying in Snezhnaya?” Lisa asked, eyeing your various bags. “Cold, I imagine?”

“Very.” You grimace, fishing around in your satchel. “But, worth it.” 

You pull forth a palm-sized metal insignia. You keep it tucked away, most of the time, only flashing the thing when necessary. You only need legitimacy every so often.

“Oh, wow.” Lisa gawks a bit. “May I see?”

You hand it to her. “Be my guest.”

She studies the metal, running her fingertips along the edges where the different colors meet. Vibrant blues meet greens and whites, with pink and purple flowers cast around the bottom edge. The shape resembles something between a shield and wheel, with each one of its seven portions having some meaning for the institution. They escape you now. 

“I’ve heard that the Tselostnyy School is quite the place,” Lisa says. “No one at the Akademiya seemed fond of them, but I imagine it was out of some sort of insecurity.”

You snort. “Probably. Folks at Tselostnyy actually teach healing— not just study the human body for the sake of some academic pursuit. The two schools have opposing goals.”

It was one of the main reasons you declined to apply to the Akademiya at all. 

“I’m glad you found a place to study— I know it was hard, after Teacher passed away.” Lisa reaches out as she speaks, going for your hand. 

You withdrew your own from the tabletop, hiding it in your lap. “It was. But I managed.”

‘Managed.’

Lisa gives you a look that drips pity. She looks as though she’s going to reply, just as the door to enter the library clicks open. 

Your gut drops to the floor and your shoulders stiffen. 

“Lisa? Could you proofread this draft for me? I’m afraid I sound too formal again—” It’s Jean, it’s Jean.

It’s her voice, the distantly familiar click of her hard heels against the wood flooring. You bunch the fabric of your trousers in your fist, forcibly reminding yourself to breathe. Jean walks from behind you, rounds the table, stops at Lisa’s side and looks at you. 

Jean’s eyes widen.

“Oh, sorry sweetheart— I’m a bit busy with a friend right now,” Lisa says easily, oblivious (seemingly, probably not.) She gestures to you and winks. “I can take a look after lunch, if you can take a break with me.” 

Jean says your name— gasping it more or less, tightening her grip on the document in her hands. 

“... Hi, Jean.” You give her a little wave. “How have you been?”

It’s bittersweet, the feeling that curls and grows in your chest as she brightens and pulls up a chair next to Lisa. It’s familiar and rotten, all the same.

...

The commotion in the library brings other visitors.

Lisa wears a smitten smile as other knights make their way into the library. Aramia and Flyn— they look older, long grown out of their adolescence and more into their skin. Hertha has crinkles around her eyes that grow tight when she recognizes who you are. 

The Spark Knight barrels in the room being lazily chased by—

Kaeya.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck— 

He scoops up the little knight and turns to the tea table, now surrounded by familiar faces, and you can see he has his lips pursed for some sort of teasing quip. Probably at the expense of the Ordo’s acting Grand Master and Librarian.

Then, Kaeya sees you. 

You watch his jaw snap shut. Whatever clever thing he had to say dies on his tongue and you watch it. It’s a little satisfying after all this time. You’ll cherish this moment, you think. The split second of confusion, the realization, the shock and— the guilt.

He wipes the expression off his face easily, as if it were never there to begin with. But you’ll revel in his discomfort. Your own little revenge, several years too late.

“Oh, wow—” Kaeya whistles, clicking closer and settling Klee on his hip with a bounce. He says your name almost breathlessly. “Little sister, it’s been quite some time. We’ve missed you.”

“Did you?” You tilt your head. “That’s surprising.”

You hold your tongue. You dig your teeth into the sides of it, forcing yourself quiet. The feeling that’s boiling in your chest won’t be extinguished by verbally thrashing Kaeya in the middle of the Knight’s HQ— but, Archons—

It’s tempting.

“‘Sister’?” The little knight’s nose scrunches. “Mister Kaeya, you said you only had Diluc, who’s only kinda your brother. No sisters!”

“He’s teasing me,” you placate her, voice sweetening. The little knight looks at you with wide eyes, a little awed. “‘Mister Kaeya’ is an old friend of mine, we played together lots when we were little like you.”

An oversimplification, of course. Little Klee doesn’t need to know what happened after the sun-swept days of sword fighting and house ended at the winery. Kaeya’s air quickly fades as Klee squirms down and asks kindly for a hug. You don’t think she can remember you— you only held her once, when she was so small— but you know her kind age and remember so differently from your own.

“Why are you in town?” Kaeya asks. “I thought I’d never seen you within city limits again. Color me surprised.”

You lock your jaw, as Klee bounds away from you and wrestles her way onto Jean’s lap, “Passing through, is all. I’ll be gone by morning.”

“... So, you’re not staying for Windblume?” Kaeya sits, pouring himself a cup of tea. You think you might hate him. “That’s a shame.” 

“I’m not,” you clarify and roll your eyes. “Though everyone is insisting that I do.”

“You really should.” Lisa takes the opening and insists, “It would be lovely to have you.”

Of the group that has congested in the library, you only hear agreement. Jean has a bright look in her eye that makes you shy away. 

“I... I really shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” Kaeya grins, foxlike. You think he just likes making you squirm.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Jean inquires, setting her chin on her fist.

“Well, no—” There’s always somewhere for you to be. You can’t stay. You shouldn’t even be here now. 

“Then, stay.” Eula leans against the doorframe, entered at some point. 

You’re being thoroughly peer-pressured, it seems. 

“...I’m being bullied into staying for Windblume, aren’t I?”

“Perhaps.” Jean gives you a sheepish grin. “You’re missed, Windblume is just an excuse.”

You ache. 

“Stay in the city, enjoy some wine,” Lisa insists. “Catch up with folks. I’d love to see more of you while you’re here. I’m sure you have stories to share of your travels.”’

You barter, “... If I do stay, I need to find a healer. I heard that there’s a skilled one, living in Mond. A Vision holder.”

Jean opens her mouth, but Kaeya speaks first. “Done.”

You consider. 

You’re fully aware that your arm is being horribly twisted into staying for Windblume. You know this is unwise. But—

(There’s something to it. Something you can’t admit it to, not aloud, not yet— but being in a room full of people who do not see you as a stranger, but rather an old friend. They know your name, and you know theirs. There’s something to knowing the streets you will walk if you stay. Familiarity is a wretched comfort.)

“If you need lodging, the knights could easily put you up in the dormitories,” Jean offers.

“No, I—” You sigh, scrubbing a hand down your cheeks. “I appreciate the gesture, but if I do stay I’ll camp outside the city.”

“So you’re staying?” Klee’s eyes shine. 

“I—”

“In that case, come out for drinks tonight,” Kaeya insists with a sly smile that makes you want to eat glass. “I’ll buy a round.”

“Wait—”

“Angel’s Share does bring out its Windblume vintage tonight—” Lisa says enticingly. 

“Absolutely not.” You smack your hand on the table, far louder than you intend. 

Kaeya cocks his head, amused. Lisa and Jean share a look, and the rest of the knights look a bit bewildered. You hate to raise your voice, but Archons, this crowd can be pushy.

“I’ll stay. But I’m not going to Angel’s Share.” Never ever again.

Lisa does seem to notice her error in suggesting it and gives you an apologetic smile. She reaches for your hand and squeezes. You feel a bit lighter.

“Diluc won’t be there,” Kaeya states. On the nose. “He doesn’t bartend on weeknights, even during Windblume.”

“... Really?”

“He doesn’t,” Eula corroborates. “I have knowledge as well that he is in the middle of merchant deals with a group from Natlan. There is no reason to think he’d be at Angel’s Share this evening, if that’s your concern.”

You pick at the skin around your nails. 

“I’ll think about it.”

(You agree, by the time you leave Ordo HQ. After many other promises of free wine and dancing, you find it hard to refuse. It doesn’t hurt that you confirm with multiple others that Diluc doesn’t bartend on weeknights. That he’s been caught up in business, and hasn’t been in the city much at all.)

...

You had enough mora for a few nights of lodging. You figured that Goth may have even given you a discount, as an old friend of his. Archons know how many times you worked odd jobs for him and his sons, patching up walls and the occasion twisted ankle or jammed finger. 

After some searching, you find Goth in one of the many gardens of Mond proper. As happy as he is to see you, he regretfully informs you that he has no free lodging. 

“Windblume has booked out all of my short-term properties,” Goth sighs. “Unless you’re looking for a minimum six-month lease, I don’t have any rooms available.”

(Goth explains to you that the goddamn Fatui has rented out the entirety of his hotel... indefinitely? Upfront? Hence the lack of a room.)

You tell him it’s no trouble, wave off his concern. You don’t mind a few more nights of camping. The only allure of an inn or hotel was the possibility of consistently bathing and a soft mattress. 

You pick a spot outside of Mondstadt proper to set up your camp. There are many tents already set up— travelers, like yourself, here for the festival. You recognize colors and fabrics from all over Teyvat. It warms something in you, that you aren’t alone in being an outsider here.

(Such a thought feels wrong, because it is, isn’t it? You aren’t an outsider at all. This is your home. The only place you’re not an outsider.) 

You struggle to set up your tent, and decide to leave it for later. Wandering around Mond for the afternoon aggravated your injury, and you instead take the time to poke around in your medicine kit for a quick tincture. Something to settle the—

(Burning, screeching pain that tracks up your leg. You’re grateful the other travelers aren’t watching how you collapse against a pile of discarded crates, barely holding back a hiss of pain.)

(It’s getting worse, isn’t it?)

Teacher always said that nothing was harder on sickness and wounds than stress. It was a wisdom you remembered but barely heeded.

You use the dropper and place the tincture under your tongue. It tastes bitter and coats your throat as you swallow. 

...

The sun rains gold on Mond as you meander toward the Angel’s Share. Liquid amber that coats the buildings and cobblestones. It’s nostalgic in too many ways, and it makes something behind your ribs ache.

(You’re hit with the distinct urge to run. To turn tail and leave Mondstadt forever, again.)

You shove it down, swallow it whole, and bear it. Bear it. Not forever, just for a few days. You can catch up with some old friends, leave any old scores unsettled and untouched (undisturbed, unthought about—), and depart. Maybe even fix up your foot in the process.

You hesitate outside of Angel’s share.

It looks different than you remember. The door and its frame have been replaced, the door and its frame hardly ached. There’s a message board outside that you can’t recall being there previously. A wreath hangs on the door, woven with blue and white flowers for Windblume.

You want it to be different. You do. Because if things are different, walking into Angel’s Share wouldn’t feel so daunting. You could pretend that this horribly familiar tavern was someplace else entirely. Maybe even delude yourself into thinking that this little building was its own, unique, carved-out square during one of your travels. A fantasy where you’ve never been here before.

(The warmth under your disgust wouldn’t feel so misplaced then.)

You enter.

It’s lively, bustling with patrons of all types with the festival beginning so soon. You recognize clothes and people from all corners of Teyvat, and it comforts you once more. You blend in easily, lingering near the door, and peek at the bar.

Diluc is nowhere to be seen. Another barkeep mans the kegs, barrels, and bottles. You don’t recognize him— which brings you some relief. 

It would be easy. To be delusional about this whole thing. That Angel’s Share could be just a tavern in the middle of nowhere and the faces that are around you have no chance of being familiar. You’re in a sea of folks who are travelers, just like, or mostly unfamiliar. You could, couldn’t you? Tell yourself that this isn’t a place where—

(You had your first drink. Learned how to mix cocktails with Crepus. Play fought Diluc and Kaeya in the rafters on the third floor. Where you last saw Diluc—)

You clutch a hand to your chest. Who knew that emotional pain could be so violently physical? 

Jean calls your name from across the room, pulling you from your stupor. You meet her eyes, and the smile you force to meet your eyes feels a little more genuine.

With the call of your name, several other patrons look up and gawk for a moment. You get a few more ‘oh hello!’s and ‘I didn’t know you were in town!’ thrown your way and you give them all sheepish smiles. Faces you can’t place very well. Features and familiar expressions mutilated by time and a botched memory. It makes you feel sick to your stomach— archons, and you haven’t even sampled this year’s selection of thousand-wind’s wine, have you? 

Jean flashes you a sympathetic look when you finally make it to their table. The table is flushed full— intimidatingly so. The knights have come out tonight. Lisa and Jean cozy up on the same bench seat, while Kaeya (die) and Albedo sit across from the two. You offer the alchemist a timid wave, which he returns in kind. Some of the other knights have spilled out to the tables around you, chattering away with wine-stained lips.

And the night’s still young.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show,” Kaeya practically purrs (choke) and leans closer to you on an elbow. “Were you able to find some lodging for the festival?”

“Yeah, I found something that will work.” It’s not technically a lie. Besides, they don’t need to know where you’re sleeping.

Kaeya raises an eyebrow and Albedo elbows him politely in the ribs. You make a note to buy him a drink later.

“I’ll get this round,” Lisa says, standing and grabbing you by the arm. “My treat. A welcome home present.”

You let her tug you through the crowd.

You end up seated properly at a barstool while Lisa orders. She wove her way through the crowd and up to the bar so easily, like liquid. You hardly have to wait at all before a drink is passed to you across the bar top.

You gulp half the glass down, greedily.

You, notably, have chosen not to cessate from dandelion wine in your absence. It was a rare treat to come across outside of Mond and Liyue, so when you could get your hands on glass, you let yourself partake. Whatever melancholy it brought with it could be tempered with more of it anyways.

It goes down easy— it always does. Thicker than other wines, sweet but bodied, with some type of nutty and berry note to it. You never understood the process of winemaking, despite so many years spent at the winery. When Crepus or Diluc or one of the staff attempted to explain, it all easily went over your head. 

The tannins sour your cheeks. You swallow down another mouthful, greedy, and slam down your empty goblet. Lisa looks at you wide-eyed.

“I don’t recall that you were ever much of a drinker,” Lisa remarks as she flags down another glass for you. She sips her own, mischief in her eyes. 

You shrug, nodding to the barkeep who fills your cup. “I indulge, occasionally. Forgive me for needing a drink in this environment.”

You gesture to the carousing around you. A lyre and fiddle play in the corner, and you distinctly hear two different bard songs. One is significantly better than the other, and you may have even enjoyed it if you could hear it fully. 

Being near the bar forces you to see changes. They’re hard to not notice. The signage behind the bar has changed. An old menu and drink list have been changed out for something sleeker. Paintings and their frames replaced. The glass you’re drinking out must be new, along with the tankards that the barkeep washes whenever he has a free moment.

There are still ghosts in the corners.

“Gods, you look like a wet towel.” Kaeya’s shouts, nearly in your goddamn ear, as he slips into the empty seat next to you. He drapes an arm over your shoulders like you’re old friends and not the byproducts of a dissolved relationship. You think about shrugging his arm off, but decide against it. 

You throw back the rest of whatever is in your glass and shout for another.

Kaeya catches your eye for a moment with a nearly unreadable expression. You recognize it (and concur that you need to be far more drunk than you currently are in order to survive the evening.) His brow lays smooth, lips in a not-quite smile, and his posture is a bit too rigid. You know he’s picking you apart, albeit quietly.

The expression disappears a moment later, and he has a new bottle of wine in his hands (“For you, little sister.”) Your cup fills yet again, and you drink.

The world begins to feel fuzzier, easier, and the pain in your foot and leg dulls. God, you try not to indulge in drinking too often (it’s simply a recipe for reliance, given your condition. Regardless, you're a physician who knows better than to turn to the bottle rather than medicine), but you feel the temptation of it occasionally. 

It’s an easy friend to indulge in under these circumstances.

One of the bards, the one with loose braids, strikes up a conversation with Kaeya, looping you in with an exchange of introduction. Your cheeks warm when you notice the slur of your words, sipping your cup to disguise any embarrassment. The bard must be drunk, with how much sweet wine he drinks, but he hardly acts it. Poised.

Lisa pats you on your back after your fourth glass, seemingly pitying you in your stupor. 

The good bard, at some point, leaves Kaeya’s side. Kaeya’s back to leaning into yours, the furs of his outfit prickling your nose. If you were sober, you’d be spewing curses at him. But in your drunken mind... it was fine. Fine. Maybe the warmth of him against your side wasn’t entirely unwelcome either.

You loosen up, whether you want to or not. 

Lisa drags you out of your stool after your fifth drink, to take pulls off a pipe a traveler offers and to dance with her in the main room of the tavern. The bards play a duet now, in tune, though the good bard from earlier carries the performance.

You laugh as she twirls you, dipping you near the floor. Some of the patrons cheer and whistle at the move, and you let loose a giggle that never would’ve left you in your right mind. Her face swims before you. Your insides are warm. Things are okay, maybe. For now.

So, you dance.

You dance with Jean and Kaeya, even dragging Hertha in for a round. Eula refuses, though apologetically. She’s a bit too drunk herself, and Amber insists on staying by her side to nurse her with water and pyro-warmed pets to the back of her neck.

(Do you envy them? Maybe. The skinship of it seems nice. They’re so familiar with each other, even from a distance. So lax and tender with each other even within such a setting. You cannot imagine receiving such treatment.)

Kaeya spins you back to the bar and buys you another glass.

“You dance better than you used to,” he croons in your ear. “even with that dreadful limp of yours.”

You bark out a laugh and punch him in the arm with hardly any force (you’ll regret not making it hurt more, later). “Wow, and here I thought wine curbed your silver tongue.”

“Unlike some, I can hold my liquor just fine.” He shrugs and sips.

You, on the other hand, turn the corner from ‘tipsy’ to ‘blasted’ as you hit the bottom of your goblet. Your stomach churns, spelling a hangover that will rot your stomach and the space between your eyes come the morning. The room doesn’t spin, not quite yet. 

You lay your forehead on the bartop. 

“Aw, had a bit too much?” Kaeya tsks. “How unfortunate of you, to not know your limits, even after all this time.”

You grumble something unintelligible. 

He sets a cold hand on the nape of your neck and your ground yourself on it.

(You can regret it in the morning.)

You have absolutely no idea what time it is, though the tavern is still rowdy. You imagine late, at least near the high moon if not into the early morning. Windblume was a celebration of drinking after all. Angel’s Share stays lively, despite the hour, though the drone of voices and folk songs becomes lost on you as your eyes slip shut.

Amongst the din, there’s a firm thud— the sound of wood on wood. Another sounds just after, though much closer and more shallow. You only make out the sound because of its old familiarity. The sound of the counter flap falling and straining its hinges. It must be one of the only pieces of original hardware from the old Angel’s share— the sound is identical to the one in your memory (maybe, you’re drunk, you may just be nostalgic—)

The barkeep (Charles, he told you his name though you didn’t give him yours) shuffles away, maybe, based on the thump of feet amongst the roar of the tavern. A shift change.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show.” Kaeya’s hand leaves you. You can hear the grin in his voice.

There’s a huff from behind the bar. The clink of a glass. A squeak as it’s dried and shined with a rag.

“Do you think I’m unreliable?” 

Your eyes stretch open, wide, in a flash. Horrible, wretched familiarity (with the way a voice can bring you so much anguish and warmth in tandem.) You don’t look up. You stare down at the floorboards, count the grains and notches in the wood. Steady your breathing. 

You know that voice.

You look up, slowly, against all better judgment. If you were sober (Archons, if you were fucking sober—) you would’ve turned, held your eyes shut and ran out of the bar without looking back. You would’ve never dared to peak and pull the thread that dangled in front of you.

He’s blurry, but he’s there. A trim waist that leads up to broad shoulders, arms that bulge more than you remember, scarlet hair that falls in waves from a high-tied ribbon. Scarlet eyes, cut and polished like rubies. 

It’s Diluc, who meets your gaze for the first time in almost a decade. Just as shocked and wide-eyed as you are. 

The glass slips from his hands and shatters.

PART iii: the World (born)

You met Diluc Ragnvindr when you were just children, doing what children do best— playing while the adults talked.

Your parents— traveling merchants— and Crepus Ragnvindr sat down for wine and sweet rum after a lavish supper. Your parents shooed you off. They didn’t need you clinging to their legs while trying to discuss the intricacies of a potential (and lucrative) contract with Dawn Winery and its splendid dandelion wine.

Crepus takes you under his wing a bit, showing your parents to a fine vintage and you to his two boys.

“They like to play in the vineyard this time of day,” Crepus says, a bit wistful. He leads you by the hand. “The crystalflies soar lower when the sun dips beyond the hills, and the fireflies come out.”

You like fireflies.

He shows you out to the courtyard, and you catch sight of two boys scampering around amongst the greenery. Crepus calls them and they both dutifully bound over, the way young boys do, enthusiastic and fast. The one with the pretty blue hair follows the one with the pretty red hair.

Crepus introduces you. Kaeya. Diluc.

Diluc has round cheeks and a soft jaw. He carries baby fat still, pudgy in his arms and legs and round in his belly. His cheeks are flushed with the late summer’s heat and a day of play. He has a brush of freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His hair is shorter than it will become, but long enough that you think your mother would envy him.

His eyes widen when he sees you. You’ll never be sure why.

(Kismet turned for him earlier, maybe. All it took was you.)

You spend the evening with your side wedged into Diluc's, watching the lazy flight of anemo crystalflies by the water. You tell the boys about the constellations you know, and make up a few that you don’t. You trace them in the sky with the tip of your pointer finger. You ask to braid Diluc’s hair and he lets you. 

Crepus finds you all, just after dusk, dozing as the fireflies begin to dance.

...

Your family visits the winery several times each year. You enjoy the visits immensely. You’ve grown quite close to the Ragnvindr’s, and Kaeya too. You always barrel off your family’s wagon, running ahead of them to greet the boys, who are always waiting for you too.

You play swords with them, though you aren’t any good at it. You always bring them trinkets from wherever you and your family have been. You like to gift Crepus a book or two as well, though you don’t know what they’re about. You choose them based on the covers.

Diluc lights up when you hand him a little shell from Liyue’s shore. You tell him about the cliffs where you found it, and how you’ll go there together some day. You’ll show him the geometric columns of stone that seem to climb all the way to Celestia. You will show him where the sand bars become one with the sea, and how to dig for crabs and shells with your bare hands. 

Diluc likes you, you think. He always lets you slip into his room after the manor has fallen asleep. You sit across from one another on the velvet window bench. You hug a pillow while he tells you about how he’ll start training as a knight soon. He holds a vision now— he pats it with pride. 

(He tells you how he obtained his vision in your absence. The first time he picked up a sword against an adversary, it appeared to him. It’s a grand thing, brave. He was protecting one of his favorite stray winery kittens from a boar near the edge of the property. He raised his rubber training sword and he was granted Celestia’s blessing.)

You think he’s lovely.

...

The boys start training with Ordo Favonius. They practice with the Gunnhildr girl, the older one, who wears a ribbon in her hair and has eyes like midday sky. She’s a few years older than you, and intimidates you with her maturity, but she’s kind. 

The older knights let you watch their training when your family visits. You post up during their drills, watch their forms, their blunders, and their successes. A knight named Varka always takes Diluc aside to teach him how to best wield his vision with his weapon of choice. 

(A greatsword. A claymore. It’s almost your size, probably. The one Diluc uses during training is Favonius issued, smithed with their crest near the base of the blade. You know the one he’ll really use. A family relic that Crepus brought up from storage for him— a rectangular blade, metal cast in black and red, with an elaborate furl stretching from the hilt. Crepus asks Diluc to wield it when he’s ready.)

Kaeya offers you his sword, one day, at the end of training. The junior knights soak in their own sweat as you take the blade from Kaeya. The knights make it look so effortless to wield such weaponry. They carry it at the hip like it's an accessory and not carved metal. When you wrap your hand around it, the weight shocks you. You barely heft it up, struggling with the balance of it. The trainees rib you a bit for it, and it makes you blush hot and hard.

Diluc scolds Kaeya, taking the blade from you when it's clear that brandishing it one-handed as intended is close to impossible for you. You feel some relief when Kaeya takes it back and shrugs. 

“You won’t have to worry about wielding a weapon like that— ever.” Diluc says on your way home (home, home, home, it’s becoming your home—) that day. “Especially a sword.”

“Why?” You ask.

“I’ll make sure you never have to.”

“Hm... what if I want to?” You try to be cheeky with him.

He gives you a playful shove and you bump into Kaeya. The latter groans and makes a choking sound.

“You don’t,” Diluc replies, flashing you a smile. “If you did, you would’ve played swords with Kaeya and I more when we were little. You always liked to watch.”

“It’s more fun that way!” You hip check him. “It’s interesting to see all of it, rather than participate.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kaeya chimes in. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with how weak your arms are.” 

He squeezes your bicep and you shriek at him, chasing him ahead down the path. You squabble all the way home (home, home, home), rolling down the hills back into the Winery’s valley. You belly laugh together, tears in your eyes. It’s good. 

You only go silent when you notice your family’s wagon, packed and ready for departure, idling in front of the winery. 

...

You don’t travel well, you never have. 

Your parents had informed Crepus of this during your first visit (“Never well, even when my wife my pregnant— the little thing gave her the hardest time on the road.”) Despite this, you had always meandered with your family on their circuit from Liyue to Mond. 

One of your visits to the winery, just around the turn of your childhood to adolescence, you fall ill.

Your parents brush off your complaints upon arrival. Chills, aches, and a cough— “It’s from the rain. Your clothes are still damp.”. Your usually lively arrival was dulled. You barely touched the dinner Crepus provided before retiring to your favored room.

You hate being sick. You hate how your gut churns and you feel so cold, despite the fire one of the maid’s stoked in the big fireplace. You sniffle and snot over the back of your hand, fighting tears. You fall ill so frequently, but it doesn’t make it easier. Even your softest clothes feel scratchy against your tender skin— you feel horribly breakable. 

There’s a gentle knock on your door before it opens. Diluc joins you by your bedside, kneeling, watching you with wide ruby eyes.

“My father told me you’re sick,” he says gently. “You don’t look well.”

You give him a wilted look. “It happens.”

“... It shouldn’t,” Diluc says with a conviction that your fever forces you to miss. “He says that you get sick often.”

“I don’t travel well.” You parrot what you heard your parents say a thousand times, to innkeepers and merchant-folk alike. “It’s alright, Diluc. I’ll be well in a few days.”

Your teeth chatter. You bury yourself deeper in the covers.

Diluc looks unconvinced. He disrobes as much as is proper, and asks quietly if he can join you. He’s warm, from his pyro vision, he tells you. He can see how cold you feel.

Whether he had such a vision or not, you would’ve said yes.

You pull away the duvet, inviting Diluc closer. It’s innocent, a sharing of heat. You press your forehead to his chest and he lets his arms fall naturally to your waist. It cages you. It feels safe and warm, and you don’t think you’ve felt that before.

You give him the smallest ‘thank you’, voice burnt and charred with fever. Diluc chases off the chill and embers alike, replaces them with the hearth that he will become to you, and you think that kismet might’ve shifted for you then, too. 

...

You leave, a few days later, still sick. 

You return, several months later, still sick.

Whatever cold you had during your last visit had metastasized— or so your parents say. They seem moderately unconcerned as they sort through the inventory they’ll be taking for their run.

Crepus doesn’t look convinced. 

Diluc helps you inside. You barely hold yourself on two feet, and need to stop and catch your breath several times. Kaeya loops his arm over your neck and Diluc hoists you by the waist, and the two nearly drag you to your room. 

A doctor is called, a healer from Mond that knows the Ragnvindr’s well. Diluc and Kaeya stay by your side as the healer draws up tincture and grinds down herbs and oils into a soft balm to slather on your chest. 

Diluc lays with you in bed again that night, over the covers, not daring to touch you. You seem so fragile, only half-there in the room with him. He resents your parents horribly for allowing you to carelessly decline in such a state. It shows in the way his expression twists into a scowl whenever they’re within his vicinity.

...

Crepus offers his home to you— no, rather he insists.

You’re still ill, lungs gunky and fever hardly waned, by the time your family deigns it time to leave. They plan to cart you along, never mind your condition. Diluc, if he had less restraint, would’ve cursed them out in the winery’s foyer. 

(The wet sound of your breathing. The little whimpers when your fever spiked, signaling that it was time for more of the tincture the healer left behind. The way you balled your fist in his nightshirt during the worst of it.)

Crepus says it’ll be no trouble to house you, for however long you need. You’ve always taken to the winery easily, and clearly need a stable place to recover from your illness. He enjoys taking in a stray or two. One more, especially one he thinks so fondly of and that he knows his boys adore, is simply a blessing, not a burden.

...

Diluc ascends to cavalry captain of the Knights of Favonius just around the time that you make a full recovery. 

It takes months— for both of you. Diluc patrols and trains with the knights when he’s not by your side. He’s incredibly well-regarded by Mond, beloved by his fellow knights and the townsfolk as well. He has ample support from all around, and his father glows with pride. 

(Diluc bears the weight of his father’s expectations well. You don’t even notice Diluc squirm under the pressure of it. It all seems to come naturally to him— being a hero.)

You see your healer every few days, drink your teas and diligently rest while you recover. The illness sticks in your lungs and you take to reading up on medicinal plants and potential treatments. It gives you some understanding of the remedies that your healer makes for you. Your healer finds you promising, despite your sickly state, and offers you an apprenticeship, if you choose to pursue such a profession.

It’s success after success, a time bathed in thick gold sun that feels as warm as it tastes.

You and Diluc dance at his ascension celebration. He holds you by the waist, clumsy like the young man he is, but you don’t mind. You loop your arms over his shoulders, memorizing the blush that paints his cheeks, and the dimples that carve them. You twirl him under your arm and laugh up to the sun and moon alike. You pull the ribbon from his hair so it unfurls over his shoulder. You run your hands through it without a care.

(Diluc looks at you, when you’re not looking at him, with such a reverence. You can’t see it yet, but it’s a burgeoning thing. Love and devotion caramelized by innocence, by want and need intertwined. He doesn’t know how to say how he feels, not yet; the feelings are still loose and undefined. But smoldering kindling he is.)

...

Crepus offers his home to you, permanently. You have taken to it so well, and his boys— his boys adore you. The staff does. You have so much growing for you in Mond, it seems silly to pack up your belongings small and tight so you can ride out on merchants circuit once more. Only to return sick once more.

You accept, hesitant at first. It’s a scary thing to give up the life you’ve known, even if the one Crepus extends to you is far more comfortable. Your parents have no qualms. You think they enjoyed your absence too much. They seem content to leave you at Dawn Winery, promising to continue their circuit, so you’d see them a few times a year.

It makes something in your ache and cry, but there’s many things to balm it in the manor. A warm fire and Adelinde’s recipes, along with whatever new tarts and sweets Crepus brings home from Mondstadt proper— they all make it easier. Good company too. Kaeya always has new ideas for schemes and little adventures. Crepus brings you gifts and makes sure you’re settling in well to your new space. Diluc is ever-dutifully at your side, whatever the circumstance, and you at his. 

You still sneak into Diluc’s room in the late night. You nestle up, side by side, on his plush window bench. You link pinkies and talk about everything.

...

“I thought this one was a bit boring.” You look up to Diluc, backwards, craning your neck. “The love interest was a bit shallow for me.”

“I agree,” Diluc answers from above you. He shuts the book deftly with one hand. “This author’s pieces usually have a bit more depth to them. This one was a bit flat.”

You tend to come to the same conclusion on the stories you share.

The Small Study (ow, ow, ow, ow) is a room most near Crepus’ wing of the manor. It’s exactly as it sounds— a small study. Something Diluc’s mother made sure was constructed for him, prior to her leaving. Floor to ceiling bookshelves line the walls, with a long table slicing the room in two. When you were young, very young, you, Diluc, and Kaeya would sit at the table and write your own stories. Color with paints that Crepus bought for you from Snezhnaya on recycled receipts and old ledgers. 

These days, the table is mostly bare and a bit dusty. You use it more than Diluc, though most of your studying with your teacher happens at their cottage, in Mond proper. Diluc and Kaeya have a training room a few doors down, one that Crepus constructed, with mats and straw targets, and more armaments than Ordo Favonius probably knows about. 

Most of your time in the Small Study is spent in the corner, tucked close to each other. You have amassed an impressive number of spare sheets, pillows, and blankets, and have constructed what could only be called a nest. You and Diluc take to lounging on it in the mornings and evenings, when you both have the time. You read together. Sometimes you aloud to him, and sometimes him aloud to you.  

Diluc’s voice has taken to breaking lately. You find it adorable and can’t help teasing him about it.

“I’ll have to hunt for a new novel at the markets today.” You sigh. The sun is rising above the cliffs, bathing the shelves and columns of dust ichor gold. You throw your hand up, watching the beam soak your skin warm.

Diluc catches your wrist and brings the back of your hand to his lips. 

Little things, skinship, he likes. He never says anything much about it, only asks quietly if it's alright that he keeps such proximity to you. You eat it up, his heat, his presence— you want all of it. You’re gluttonous in your youth (you have yet to know starvation.)

“Be careful on patrol today, okay? I’m helping Adelinde make that sweet bread you like before I visit Teacher.” You huff, maneuvering to you’re at his eye level. You tug his cheek, still soft with baby fat. “You better not have any extra bruises when I pick you up today.”

“I’ll try.” He rolls his eyes. “Even if I do, you’ll patch me up, won’t you?” 

“I could have Teacher do it,” you huff. “I know you don’t like how rough they can get with you.”

Diluc scoffs, “They don’t like me—”

“They like you plenty—” 

You squabble, soft in your chests, because it's all easy and slow. The romance novel gets tucked away into an overflowing shelf, bulging with others that you’ve already finished. 

Kaeya is shining his blade in the armory, and you collect him before heading to Mondstadt proper. It’s a routine, each day, one that you enjoy and cling to. You enjoy your training and you feel only pride seeing your boys bud and grow in their strength. You fight, like young ones of your age do, but it's all in jest. Simple. Your squabbles get settled with wrestling by the river or when Crepus intervenes and fathers the three of you.

It’s good and you never want it to end.

...

Diluc grows into himself. He’s gangly in his teen years— long arms and bulging shoulder blades he’s yet to grow into. The pudge he’d had around his belly has disappeared, sucked away by a growth spurt or two. He grows a bit more into his frame, each year closer to adulthood that he gets. Muscle building on muscle. 

Teacher says you’re doing well with your studies. You pour over books on medicinal herbs and medical techniques during the day, and watch Teacher heal when patients are around. You become adept enough to see patients on your own, for small injuries. 

You fix up Diluc whenever he comes home to you. Cuts. Bruises. The odd fracture or two. He’s the person you ever stitch a wound together for. He doesn’t flinch. So trusting.

...

Crepus gets odd, at some point. You’re almost old enough to be considered an adult. He starts asking you questions you know the answer to, but it seems like he’s seeking something other than the truth. Sentiments that he wants to squeeze out of you, to satiate something in him that you can clearly see, but don’t know how to name.

(He’s a businessman— is it in his nature to be greedy—?)

(Forget. Forget. Forget.)

...

You wish it had stayed so kind and good for longer. You wish you appreciated it more, but you didn’t fully understand the goodness laid before you until it was so brutally ripped away from you. 

The night Diluc turns eighteen, your world shatters. Burns. Immolates while you lay drunkenly dozing in a friend's warm bed. You don’t greet the wreckage until you awaken. Alone, drowning and with a new pang in your stomach.

PART iii: the stitch the wound the burning

You instantly slam your hands on the bartop. You whip your head around to Kaeya. He wears a wide, awful grin. So fucking smitten with himself.

You hate him. 

“Fuck you,”  you snap. 

You push up, knocking the bar stool over with a bang. You turn on a heel and run from the tavern. Wordless.

(You run. You should’ve run. You should’ve never come back. Ever.)

You know the display caused enough of a ruckus that Angel’s Share fell nearly silent as you left. You know that your vision shuddered out of your control, sending dendro to liven the flowers around the tavern. It felt sick. To know that the blooms would be wider and more beautiful while you ran. Running, running, running. 

Lisa and Jean, maybe, shout your name as you sprint away. You ignore them— you have to. The temptation to turn back and face them drowns in the wine that churns in your stomach. Your breath feels too hot and heavy in your lungs, like lead and steam. You feel like you might die.

(Diluc in the same room as you. Diluc in front of you.  Not a ghost, a breathing body. Flesh. He would’ve been a bit too warm, to the touch. You know him to be. He’d grown so much— how much had you missed? Archons, you miss him—)

You barely get out of Mondstadt proper before you bracing yourself on one its outer walls, forcing your finger down your throat, and heaving your guts out onto the high grass. All of the splendid wine you sampled color the ground blood red, surely staining your lips. Tears drip from your lash line. You feel sticky as you draw your fingers from your throat, spit and dribble sliding down your wrist. 

You curse and shake. 

You wipe your hands down on your trousers and scrub at your lips with the edge of your sleeve. You spit pretty scarlet and nearly hurl again.

The sun has set, and the dark is a comfort. It cloaks you, allowing you to duck easily between shadows and firelight that other travelers warm themselves by. No one looks at you twice. You’re sure you seem like a drunkard, not— Not whatever you are. You drag yourself back to your campsite.

You fall to the ground, drawing up your good leg by the knee and press your forehead to it.

Fuck.

Fuck the healer. Fuck Windblume. Fuck seeing any friends or familiar faces. You discard the plans, crushing them down until you decide they’re not worth it. None of this was worth it. If you’d only ducked in and out of Mondstadt’s market, you wouldn’t have met Lisa. Gotten twisted up with Kaeya. Dared to enter Angel’s Share. Seen Diluc.

You knew the mere sight of him would send you. You knew. You feel foolish. Stupid. If you were a fraction more sober, you would’ve dragged yourself out of self pity and set up camp for the night. Instead you stew. You swallow back dread and bile and clutch your shoulders.

(You always knew this was a risk, coming back here, didn’t you? That’s why you never dared to even get near Mondstadt’s borders. Now you’ve done it.)

You certainly have.

You rub your eyes again, grimacing at the taste in your mouth. Forcing yourself up is a task, especially trying to keep weight off of your (now very) bad foot. You struggle to balance, propping yourself up on a pile of discarded crates and get to work setting up your campsite for the night. You resolve to sleep until dawn, pack up, and be on your way. You’ll head back to Liyue and catch a boat out of the harbor. You’ll go anywhere. Do anything. 

(To be far away from here.)

You struggle with your tent and tarp. It’s infinitely harder to set up your sleeping arrangements when you’re hobbling around on one leg. Emptying your stomach of its content has made you lightheaded (or, it's the panic that is thick and porous in your blood. Burrowing into your flesh. Will you even be able to sleep tonight?) You fight to keep your breath steady as you struggle to stake the tarp into the dirt.

Someone says your name from behind you. Breathes it like it's lighter than air, weighted like a gospel.

You turn, for the second time, against better judgment.

Diluc stands above you, wearing the same shocked expression he had in Angel’s Share. 

Your lips twist, your brow falls. You feel yourself sink. It’s the same feeling you get in your stomach when you’re put toe-to-toe with an adversary out in the wilderness. It’s the feeling you get when you get a patient a little too late and can’t be sure if you’ll be able to drag them back from the brink.

You breathe his name right back.

“... You’re here,” he says. His voice has evened out. Deeper than you remember, and rougher, but barely.

“I am,” you answer as neutrally as you can. You school your expression and turn back to your tarp. “Please leave.”

Diluc doesn’t answer. He’s frozen above you, so close that you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him. 

“Don’t ask me to do that,” Diluc says, like a demand and not a request.

You bristle.

“I’m setting up my camp for the night,” you state plainly. “Then I will be sleeping. I will be gone by dawn tomorrow. I apologize for any disruption I caused at... at Angel’s Share.”

You press your hands over the top of a nail. The iron digs into your palms. You shove at it anyway, until it’s snug against the earth.

“I don’t care about that,” Diluc replies with an edge to his voice that’s unfamiliar. “That’s not of consequence.”

“... Then why are you here?” You crawl across the ground, brace yourself on a crate, and stand. Your weak foot hovers just off the ground. “Why follow me, Diluc? I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You say his name like it's a curse and face him.

(And it’s like coming home.)

(If you had any less of yourself, you would’ve sank into the earth and wept.)

“I don’t,” he says. Arms crossed. Shoulders square. You see him struggle with his words, chewing on the inside of his cheek, just like he used to. “You left so quickly, and Kaeya—”

“Bastard,” you spit. 

Diluc muffles a laugh (a full sound so lovely— you used to do anything to hear it). “He didn’t tell you I would be bartending, I’m assuming?”

“He told me, expressly, that you would not be bartending.” 

“... It is my tavern. Windblume is the busiest time of the year.” He looks a bit wounded. You can’t tell if you’re imagining it. “Kaeya sent word that Ordo would be at Angel’s Share in full force this evening. My presence was called.”

You scowl, “I realize that now.”

Diluc sighs, deep and hard and full, “You left so quickly, and Kaeya told me you were most likely staying outside of the city. I was... worried.”

You let out a breath through your teeth, maybe a laugh, some unholy thing and you shake your head. You can’t bear to look at him for too long, “Well, I’m fine. Promise. I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Clearly.”

“And you weren’t expecting to see me?”

“No.” Diluc sighs. “I... No. I wasn’t.”

You don’t know what else to say to him. 

“Go.” You shoo him off. “I need to finish setting up and get some sleep. Sorry again for causing any trouble.”

You turn away, going to reach for your tent—

Diluc grabs your upper arm. He keeps you steady and upright.

“You didn’t.”

The contact burns. Sears through you like you’re just gossamer and old silk. You tense with it. When did his heat become unfamiliar?

You open your mouth, part your lips just barely, but nothing comes out. Your mind empties.

“Come back to the winery.”

His words cut you from any of your reverie. Your grief forces itself up in plumes, from the base of your spine to the corners of your damp eyes.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You tear away from him. 

He lets you go. (You suffocate the part of you that mourns the loss.) 

“It’s not safe outside the walls.” He takes a step back. Breathing room. “There’s no lodging available in the city, I’m sure you found.”

“I did, and I’m fine out here, Diluc. I can protect myself just fine.” You pat the dendro Vision on your hip. Your weapon remains unsummoned and out of sight.

“It’s going to rain.” Diluc frowns. “And, your tent is torn.”

He gestures behind you, and sure enough, a massive tear runs through an entire side of your tent. You hadn’t noticed. 

(If you will not go where you are supposed to be, perhaps fate will push you there? Align the stars and cosmos just right—)

“I recall that you never enjoyed camping,” Diluc says and it's like a knife to the chest. The idea that he remembers anything about you. “You’ll have a bed for as long as you’d like.”

“Diluc—” You’re near to cursing him out, let the Archons, Celestia and the damn Stars hear it—

“I’m sure Adelinde would love you to see you too.”

Oh.

Oh— Adelinde. When was the last time you sent her a letter? Or read one of hers? You have a stack of them, sealed with purple wax and bound in twine, shoved in your bag. Among your most prized possessions. You’ve hardly let the ink smudge, despite time and condition.

“... She still works for you?”

“Of course.” Diluc’s voice sounds strained. 

“Elzer too?” You ask.

“Yes, he’s been at my side since—”

“Since you came back to Mondstadt,” you answer for him. “Since you returned to the winery.”

Elzer had been at your side too, when you were running the winery in Diluc’s absence. Same with Adelinde.

Archons, you miss them. 

“I’ll stay at the winery,” you say after a beat. “So I can see them.”

Diluc lets out a sigh, shaky and short. He flexes his hands, open and closed. Relieved. The moment of vulnerability passes.

“Will you be able to walk there with—” He gestures to your foot.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” You put weight on it, swallowing down any pain. You can bear it. 

Diluc offers his arm, and you refuse it, striding past him. 

You walk side by side back to Dawn Winery.

...

It does begin to drizzle, eventually. Nothing close to proper rain, but a thick mist that dampens your hair and clothes. The chill of it sinks into you, unpleasant but not unbearable. You cling to the discomfort of it. You and Diluc do not speak to each on the way back, other than the time or two you announce you need a short rest for your foot.

Fatigue hits you as you stumble down the valley paths leading into the winery’s main grounds. 

You blame the wine. 

The front door looks almost the same, perhaps the wood refinished. Diluc pulls forth a shining brass key (different, than the one that you had during your tenure as ‘master’ of Dawn Winery. That key was thick, old iron. Rusting at its corners. It always felt cold and heavy. An entire year it was tied to you. Tethered to your waist on the very same belt that now holds your vision.)

The lock was replaced.

The interior of the winery is different too, you find. It makes stepping inside less jarring— the floors, once dark, long-planked hardwood, has been redone to intricate patterns of lighter, warm-toned wood. Less candles, more electro-powered fixtures set into the walls and ceiling. The couches look different, brighter and fluffier with fresh cushions. Even the grand carpet that covers the main room, bearing the Ragnvindr crest, appears to have been freshened. Maybe even re-tuffed. It’s generally brighter.

“You’ve... updated things.” Your voice trails off as you shrug off your cloak and hang it on your arm. 

Diluc follows your line of sight to a new tapestry on the east-wall. Not of the family crest, but the vineyard. It’s far more ornate than any you remember; you can see the metallic gold weavings shine, even in the lowlight. The tapestry is ringed by paintings, portraits and some landscapes. You recall Crepus commissioning many of them, or creating them himself. There’s a number of new photographs as well.

“I have over the years,” Diluc replies. “It was necessary.”

You hum, pausing. “... I like it. It’s nice.”

It’s nice because it doesn’t feel quite as much like you’re walking into a still-breathing cadaver. You expected to be greeted with an interior you had seared in your memory. Corners you’d still see ghosts in, picture frames that were askew that you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to fix. You know which floorboards were creaky and which windows had the worst draft. 

This version of Dawn Winery from your memory doesn’t exist anymore, in any way or facet. What’s left certainly isn’t blank or void, but it’s more unfamiliar than you expected. It smells like rose oil and beeswax rather than cedar and tobacco. 

“Master Diluc? You’re back earlier than expected.”

Adelinde breaks you from your stupor. 

She looks much the same— the same uniform, though perhaps her hair’s a bit shorter? There’s new wrinkles around the corners of her eyes, sun spots around her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are still kind. They go wide when she sees you, and the mug she’s holding nearly slips from her grip.

Your chest tightens.

She says your name and it’s like you’ve been cut through. Flesh parting around a sharp blade. 

“Hi.” Your voice sounds soft and so much more broken than you can accept it is. 

“Welcome home.” She smiles, all the way up to her eyes.

If you were a little more weak, perhaps a few months more weathered— you would’ve broken then. You would’ve fallen apart in the foyer of Dawn Winery, drowning and hungry and soaked to the bone in something colder than rain water. You hold yourself together, barely, thin threads wound around you to the point of constricting keep you upright. Sure-footed. Almost-whole.

But, Adelinde knows... doesn’t she? She must. She has an uncanny ability for these things. It’s because she watched you grow, watched your toils and supported you. Mothered you when needed. You counseled and consoled each other, during the worst of it.

It makes you feel less guilty, less ashamed, when you nearly throw yourself at her. You wrap your arms around her shoulders and smother your face in her shoulder.

Adelinde hugs you in kind. She still smells like pine-cleaner and that jasmine perfume she imports. She wraps you, in herself, squeezing so hard you’re afraid she’ll undo the strings binding your heart together. 

“H-How have you been?” you ask. Tears sting your eyes.

She strokes the back of your head, through your hair. “I’ve been well. And you?”

You smush your face into her shoulder. You don’t know what to say to her. Instinctual honesty climbs up in your throat— you suppress it. 

“I’ve been better,” you say, softly. You hope only she can hear. “Excited to sleep in a real bed. Take a bath.”

Adelinde goes still, slack— then she almost crushes you. You feel her heartbeat and your lip wobbles.

“I’m glad you’re home, then. Let me fetch you a cup of tea. I’ll make sweet bread in the morning.”

“T-That sounds nice. Thank you.”

Diluc, who has been silent and watchful, clears his throat. “They can take whichever room they like.”

“I’ll prepare the west wing guest room.” (Far from your old bedroom.) She whispers to you. “There was a Fontainisian merchant we were hosting— she left all of her luxury skincare and bath supplies here.”

You pull away, narrowing your eyes, “Are you implying something?”

“Not at all.” She gives you a good-natured smile. “They’re yours. Let’s get you settled.”

You nod and she guides you with a hand on your lower back, up the stairs, to the west wing. Diluc has made himself scarce, seemingly disappearing into thin air to the northern wing of the manor. You only half notice.

Archons, you’re tired.

Adelinde helps you settle in. She sets your bag on a vanity stool, shows you a newly renovated bathroom with a tub that could easily fit you and a Rishboland tiger in it. The rest of the details of the room fade. Something stickier and older than fatigue works its way up through your bone marrow, leaving your body as a yawn.

Adelinde gives you a sympathetic smile when she brings you a cup of lavender and chamomile tea. 

The world is blurry when you crash into the pillows. They smell like the herbal detergent you suckered Crepus into buying during your teen years. Diluc liked it. Whatever potential revulsion you could have has wilted with your exhaustion. Instead, something warm brews in you. You shove your nose into the silken case. The feeling is good. You don’t mind it. 

(Fuck, maybe you even need it.)  

...

You sleep for three days. 

You don’t mean to, and it’s not continuous. You rise for your promised sweet bread, tea, and a much-need, thorough bath. You’ve spent the past few months using communal bath houses or washing in rivers and lakes, quick and rarely relaxing. You indulge in the massive, stone tub for a private soak that leaves you pruney and smelling like rose oil and Natlani bright grass. 

The position of the sun feels arbitrary. You just sleep. Like the fucking dead. No dreams, thank the gods. Thick curtains keep your room dark and you relish every moment. You hadn’t realized how deeply fatigue had woven itself into you. You’d become so acclimated to exhaustion, it only hit you when you finally had a (safe and) quiet place to sleep with no end date. 

Adelinde brings an armful of clothes at some point. (“We put these in storage, when you left. I’m sure some still fit.”) Some do, thankfully, and you’re grateful to have more than four garments, especially when they go together. It’s nostalgic to slip into skirts and trousers you haven’t worn in so long, and you decide they’ll suffice. Unideal, but comfortable. 

The tiredness is an odd blessing. You feel too blurry and foggy to really pick apart your feelings. All of them. You’re aware of the knot that’s formed somewhere between your ribs and gut (or rather, revealed itself), and you ignore it for as long as you are able to. No one comes to you except Adelinde, who never presses you. 

(You don’t know what you would do if she did. Adelinde knows discretion, she knows wounds and scrapes and bruises, and knew yours once. Well and thoroughly. You think she can see all of your ills now too.)

(You’re glad she doesn't pry at you. In your moments between wakefulness and sleep, you tend to dream more loosely. You imagine what you might say to Diluc, had you... the opportunity without damage. What would you say to him? The you that’s mostly a dream screams at him sometimes. Enraged. Sometimes you cry, asking questions that neither your sleeping or waking mind has answers for. They’re not... unfamiliar dreams, but they’re unwelcome. They’re more vivid now that you’re staying in the Winery.)

They feel more real. Diluc is only rooms away at any given time.

(He’s not a specter.)

On the third day, you awake midday to a frantic knock on your door. Adelinde, you assume. Stumbling from bed, and pull on a dressing gown and nothing more, and pull open the heavy oak door—

It’s Diluc. Of course it is. In working trousers and a loose, white top. Dirt stains his knees and the tips of his fingers. Pretty red hair spills from its loose tie, bouncy with a fresh wash. He tenses, when he sees you. Fists balling at his sides and shoulders going rigid.

Your jaw locks and the air in your lungs suddenly feels heavy and too hot. Your throat bobs with a swallow, and you gather up the satin of your robe before it has a chance to slip down to the crook of your elbow. 

(Just seeing him sends you. Into a rage. Into a fit of grief. The visage of him forces you to reckon with something more awful and sticky and molten than you know what to do with.)

(You wish it was more avoidable.)

You freeze.

Your several days of rest afforded you the time to... ignore Diluc. Hide from him, and the knot that you desperately don’t want to unravel. Despite sleeping in one of his beds and eating his food, you need distance. It feels like you’ll explode if you don’t have it.

“The child of one of the vineyard workers is injured,” Diluc says, maybe a little out of breath. “Can you take a look?”

“Of course,” you reply without hesitation. A hurt child takes precedence over most things.

The child and his mother sit in Diluc’s foyer, you can hear them as you approach. The girl sniffles and clings to her mothers sleeve with one hand, the other limp in her lap. One of her legs splays the wrong way, equally limp. 

You approach easily, introducing yourself. The air has an edge of crisis to it, but you wade through it easily. If anything, it’s comfortingly familiar. To be calm and confident in the face of serious injury or illness is often medicine in and of itself. 

You set your large, leather-bound caboodle beside you and take to the floor. Your Tselostnyy insignia is pinned to the outside. The mother’s eyes dart to it as she pets over her daughter’s hair, and she relaxes at the sight of it. A qualified stranger, you are.

The mother is younger, someone before your time as the Winery’s temporary master which is a relief. Diluc lingers behind you, watching you work, probably.  You attempt not to care.

You scooch forward, on your knees, knitting your fingers together and hover them over your patient. You focus on the spiral of dendro through muscle and bone, reading the injury:

Two clean breaks. Closed fracture of the left ulna. Closed fracture of the left femur.

It’s a miracle that the child isn’t shrieking in her mother’s lap. 

“How did you get hurt?” you ask the child directly. 

She sniffles. “I f-fell outta’ the big tree by the water. I was trying to climb it.”

Her mother almost scolds her, but you beat her to speaking. “That’s a hard tree to climb. The oaks by the stables are much easier.”

It’s just a slip of the tongue, to be so familiar.

You turn to the child and school a smile on your lips. “I’ll be able to heal your injuries with my Vision. You’ll get some medicine as well, and it needs to be stirred into juice. Do you have a favorite kind?”

The child looks unsure, and her mother answers for her: “She likes apple best.”

“Apple, master of the house.” You wave a hand behind you. “Can you fetch some?”

“Of course,” Diluc answers without missing a beat and you hasten him away.

Knitting your fingers together once more, you begin to work on her injuries. The child is holding up quite well, despite the immense pain she must be in. You work quickly regardless, but keep in mind you do have the luxury of time. There’s no one more broken or more sick just beyond her who needs to be treated as well.

Dendro sews together her bones. Encourages new flesh and muscle to grow where it is needed. 

When Diluc returns, you instruct him further, gaze never straying from the knitting bones, “Take the third vial from the right on the top row of oils, will you? Stir half a dropper into the juice and stir for a minute. If you see oil on the top, keep going.”

“What’s the medicine for?” The girl asks. 

“Relaxation and sleep,” You reply softly. “This type of healing is very effective, but it takes a lot of energy out of the person who is being healed. You’ll be tired once I’m all done, but you may have trouble resting since your body is still reacting to the shock of your injuries.”

The mother lets out a sigh of relief. Perhaps too wordy of an explanation for a child, but her mother seems grateful for it. 

When the child’s healed into proper pieces again, you unknit your fingers and fall back on your heels. Diluc wordlessly passes the goblet of well-mixed apple juice to the child, who shakily gulps it town. The medicine doesn’t have much of a taste, more of an oily texture to it that requires it to be drunk quickly after being mixed. The juice must be from one of Diluc’s best stashes because the child beams after chugging it.

“... That’s it?” She asks. 

You nod and crack your knuckles, now stiff. “That’s it.”

“... Nothing else?” 

“Nope.” You crack your neck. “Other than the fatigue, but a few extra hours of sleep should remedy that. She’ll be back to normal after a nap.”

“Thank you,” The mother says and your chest feels sticky and warm. “I know that Barbara from the Church has similar skills with her Vision, but I’ve never seen healing like yours. Mondstadt could use a physician like you, you know.”

The feeling goes cold, but you keep your smile. Bear it.

“I’m sure they do.” Teacher’s shoes hadn’t been filled, apparently. And you’d departed to the Tselostnyy School and never returned. 

The mother and her child give more thanks before leaving and you keep your facade up until they’re out the door. The girl’s no doubt ruffled still, even with the light sedative. The mother frazzled. The last thing you’d want to do is burden them with your own misplaced ire. They can’t know. They wouldn’t know.

Diluc, however—

He’s been the silent spectator to this whole affair. He idles by the couches and the hearth, arms crossed, still-dirtied from whatever vineyard work he’d been doing prior to fetching you. You’re sure he was working in the fields, heard the child shriek, and rushed to their aid. Typical.

Diluc stares at you like he could immolate you alive.

“You’re incredible.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like the sentence doesn’t implode something in you. 

Your fists shake at your sides. “Hardly. It’s just my profession.”

Diluc works his jaw and considers his words. You note the way he looks stumped and lost. It’s not intentional, if you’re being honest— so there’s no harm in enjoying the way he stumbles to speak around you, is there?

(It’s only fair. Diluc had always been so sure-footed and sturdy with his words. To see him flounder now reminds you that he’s changed too. Something in him has paled and been mutilated, just like you. Two wounded. His suffering isn’t what you revel in, but the knowledge that he’s affected. Neither of you came out unscathed and you’ve spent the last years refusing to imagine how Diluc might’ve coped.)

“Will you have tea with me?” Diluc asks, the words ringing off the glass chandelier in minor key. “You don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“I will.” 

...

Adelinde kindly brings you both tea, by the hearth and its embers. It’s served with a few small cakes and rounds of steaming sweet bread. Diluc takes his tea just as he did when he was young— a heavy dash of cream and a spoon and a half of sugar (“the half is very important” he had always said). Adeline leaves you a carafe of coffee and shoots you a gentle smile before leaving the two of you be.

You rest on one of the couches, leg pulled up beneath you and blow over the rim of your mug.

Diluc sits adjacent from you, in a resplendent mid-morning sun beam. The chair is high-backed, upholstered with the red and gold pattern of the Ragnvindr clan. He looks regal, like a king from the stories you used to read together. Sunlight halos the frizz in his hair and the dust that shifts around him.

He sits with one heel propped up on the opposite knee, cupping the tea cup from the bottom, unbothered by its heat.

(He’s pretty, just as beautiful as you remember. Maybe more so.)

It makes something in you feel rotten. You pick at your nails and curl over your core. 

He glances at you and you look away into the hearth, into the small flames that eat at the last of a birch log. 

Having Diluc in front of you is uncomfortable. Maybe worse than uncomfortable, as discomfort is bearable and the sensation crawling up from the back of your throat isn’t. It makes your skin itch and feel too tight. Your palms sweat. Maybe you want to puke.

(It’s dread, or something like it. Like just seeing him put you on a precipice you had convinced yourself didn’t exist.)

“When did you start drinking coffee?” Diluc asks, breaking you from your spiral. “If I recall correctly, you hated it. Too bitter for your palate, or something like that.”

Ah—

“In your absence. In the year I stayed here, when you left.” It’s the truth. “ Lots of paperwork. I got used to the flavor after a while.”

(You used to prefer tea, favoring some black variety that Crepus painstakingly imported from Natlan’s volcanic cliffs. The first time you tried to drink it following his passing, you retched it back into your cup.)

You both shift uncomfortably. 

“I see.” 

You pretend not to notice the way Diluc’s grip goes white-knuckled for a moment. Your chest feels tight, too tight, and you squirm under your skin. 

“I don’t know how to face you,” you blurt out. 

(You never thought you would have to.) 

Diluc looks away from you, into the fire. “If you don’t wish to ‘face me’, then you don’t have to.”

“Are you suggesting I simply ignore you?”

“If that’s what you would wish to do.”

“That’s not what I asked.” You frown, something burning between your ribs. 

Diluc chews on his words for a moment. “Allow me to clarify. I have no expectations of you while you’re staying within the Winery.”

“So, if I simply ate your food and slept in one of your beds, ignoring you, you’d be alright with that?”

“If that’s what you wish, then yes.”

(The answer hurts to hear. You refuse to think about why.)

“Alright.” You take a long sip of your coffee. You’re not sure when your stomach began to ache.

“You’re unsatisfied with that answer,” Diluc guesses.

“Entirely,” you reply. “You’re basing your wants off of mine. It’s bothersome.”

“It’s the truth. As I said—“

“You ‘have no expectations of me’,” you parrot. “Would you truly be satisfied if I didn’t speak to you at all while I’m here?”

Diluc chews the inside of his cheek (a new habit you don’t recognize). “My satisfaction isn’t of consequence.”

“Idiot,” You snap— you don’t mean to. “Of course it is. I don’t want to make this any more unbearable than it already is.”

“Do you think this is unbearable for me?” 

“… Yes?” You feel yourself shaking. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

(It’s worse than unbearable. The feeling in your chest is blooming, radiating out into your arms and legs, down to your hands. There’s a buzzing in the base of your skull.)

“I understand that it’s difficult for you to be here,” Diluc grits out. “I do not want to make that any worse by some expectation or assumption you think that I carry. If you wish to enjoy the festival and ignore me, that’s more than fine. If it would be easier for you to stay here and think of me as only some type of… concierge, I wouldn’t resent you for it.”

(You hate it. You hate him. You hate Diluc Ragnvindr endlessly, perhaps. You want to burn Dawn Winery to the ground.)

“Do you really think I could ever think of you as anything other than yourself?” You spit, intending to. “It’s insulting— a fucking affront to think that I could view you in such a way.”

“I don’t know how you view me.” Diluc’s voice wavers with what you can only assume to be anger. “I’m trying to make this easier for you.”

“In what way?!” You stand. “Do you think ignoring you would be easier for me?”

“I am making a well-intended inference based on the fact that you haven’t returned to Mondstadt for years.” Diluc stares at you like he wants to— “I am assuming you’d like to continue to ignore me, given that you’ve never given any indication otherwise.”

“… You’re the one who left first.” You spit the words, like how a sword cuts through air. “You’re the one who left and gave no ‘ indication’ of returning.”

Diluc swallows, thick and hard with a bob of his throat and he rises to his feet. You instinctively take a step back. He opens his mouth, then closes it with a snap of his teeth. The fire cracks and a log loses its structure, tumbling in the hearth with a flurry of embers.

He looks lost for words. You let loose a laugh, something awful and torn that you wish you could stuff back down your throat.

“Nothing to say?”

“It was a long time ago—“

“Ah, it’s irrelevant to you. I see.” Archons, you don’t want this. You should’ve never come back. It can’t be worth it, can it? It feels like your ribs are being broken, one by one. 

(How wretched it is, for him to have such a power over you.)

“Don’t twist my words.” Diluc rises, taking a step toward you. “I only meant to say—“

“I am well-aware of what you meant to say.” You want to vomit, maybe. “It was so long ago, so it’s easier, right? If I view you as nothing more than a doorman with a familiar face, and if you view me as a guest to be treated with pleasantries.”

(Let’s forget all the history. Etch a lie onto a slate that’s already been shattered beyond repair.)

Diluc’s expression twists. Your hands shake and you cross them over yourself, wrapping your arms over your own shoulders and squeezing. He looks… hurt. Gutted. 

“Do you think me cruel enough to ever think of you in such a way?”

“Yes, actually.” You laugh with a shake of your head. “Not even a letter, Diluc? Couldn’t even spare me a thought, could you?”

(Meanwhile, you clung to the hope that he’d arrive home through the front door of the Winery for months. How many did you sit in front of this very same hearth, wrapped in his old blankets and left-behind clothes and pray to any God who’d listen that Diluc would return?)

The admission guts Diluc. You can see it in his face, the way his expression tears open and he balls his fist and he almost seems to shake with it.

(Despite everything, it hurts to see him hurt.)

You step away, almost toppling into the couch. Diluc catches you by the arm with a lurch and keeps you upright. The contact burns like you’re too close to a roaring fire. You feel singed. 

“I can’t forget, Diluc.” You laugh, shudder in his grip and you feel the bits of you fray even further. “I— I don’t know. I’m sorry. I resent you. I hate you. I look at you and I’m struck by the feeling that I’m looking at a ghost.”

You watch Diluc’s jaw lock. “Pot, kettle.”

“Pardon?”

“You left Mond as well, dear.” Diluc says the pet name and then flushes. An old habit, unearthed by sparring. You maybe would swoon if you weren’t feeling light-headed. “You’re a ghost to me as well. Maybe something worse.”

“... Am I? ” you spit, writhing in your skin. 

His expression tightens and you see the hurt. A crack. His lip twitches and he stands. He has to look down at you and you feel the height. 

“Do you think I haven’t been haunted by you?”

Oh, it’s like being punched in the gut. You’re being flayed, surely, on his great room floor. If you’re not careful, your entrails will spill and you’ll die here. You’re sure. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“You’re impossible,” Diluc says, grip almost bruising. “Do you truly think I’m lying?”

(You don’t.)

You swallow and step away from him. The moment you pull against him, Diluc lets you go, and you stumble back. 

(You’re too frayed for this. Burnt. Cinders at a masquerade.)

“I need some time,” you say, fire in your voice is gone. You burn down so easily. “I’m sorry.”

Diluc stays silent for a moment. You can’t be sure what he’s thinking.

“Take all the time you need,” he says, before striding past you to his office. You hear the door nearly slam. 

[chuckeroo777]

Dungeon Meshi Volume 9 Part 1

Welcome back! I hear you loud and clear. Cover images are fine, as long as they aren't actively spoilery. Now, join me for a very interesting volume!

Today, we go on an ADVENTURE!

It's a good thing you're both so naturally good looking, cause neither of you can style for shit.

As much as I love their relationship, Marcille is definitely pretty controlling, especially early on here. She does improve a lot by the end of the manga though.

Can't really blame them. Between the Asivia disaster, and just, elves in general (Seriously, name a single elf in this story who isn't problematic in some way.), they are right to be wary. I like how each of them has a particular hangup with her. Chilchuck is particularly worried about another Asivia, Shuro doesn't want a total noob, and Namari is a dwarf about it.

They're just such good friends guys.

Thank you random background NPC for agreeing with me.

An important image.

God, I love my two idiot children.

Gosh dang it Dandan, so it was your fault? Also, I have to wonder how medical fraud works in a world with healing magic. Like, what could be possibly be pretending to have that Falin couldn't heal?

You were only mostly dead. And mostly dead, means a little alive.

Lol

Seriously, of all our main characters, she's the only one whose relative age I can't really figure out. Honestly, at this point, I'm starting to suspect she is reletively younger than Falin. Half-elves sure are confusing! While most of the other races have maturity rates proportional to their average lifespan, Half-elves age quicker than elves, but have a much longer lifespan. So who knows.

Three guesses what he does literally two seconds later. The last two don't count.

You know, with how precisely shapeshifters and succubi can extract this sort of information, makes me wonder how easy mindreading would be for a mage. Like, these are scrub-tier monsters wielding some seriously potent telepathy.

It's really sad, isn't it? She's been treated poorly for so long, she's had it drilled into her that she is a freak of a human, when in fact she is a very talented cat.

Izutsumi: Screw you guys. I don't need no one.

Izutsumi two seconds later: Gotta go save my friends!

Moral of the story: Chilchuck thinks the whole party is pretty.

Izutsumi has had just about enough of this nonsense.

Pro tip for all my succubus readers. If you're just mimicking someone's type, like Chilchuck, hordes work great. But if you're mimicking a specific person, the trick stops working if there are multiples. Makes it kinda obvious that it's a trick.

There is something darkly humorous about the fake mothers being defeated by killing their babies.

That's altogether, truly, enough of this nonsense. Actually, the fact that they stayed the same, can succubi only transform once? Or maybe there is just a long cooldown on switching forms?

:3

Presented without comment.

Probably because Kui the dungeon lords are inspired by those old myths. Pity demons aren't real.

Things are getting juicy! Stay tuned for part two.

[hybbart]

*Discreetly slides this fan letter into your mailbox* 

From: Anonymous Fan, 

Address: Ask Box, Tumblr, somewhere on Planet Earth

To: Hybbart

Address: Hybbart's Blog, Tumblr, somewhere on Planet Earth

Date: Today, 

Dear Hybbart,

Hi! I'm just a little anon writing to say thank you so much for your amazing Ranchers Apocalypse AU. I've binged it several times and I plan on doing it again and again. It's given me so much hope for life. I have never experienced anything like it before. Your art is incredible and I could stare at it all day. 

I don't comment on things often, I'm usually one of the silent spectators but I really felt like I needed to give you a thank you.

 I have hated and avoided apocalypse stories because they always felt so hopeless and scary to me but yours is the first I've seen that's not hopeless. Thank you so much for the new perspective of an apocalypse story. Now I love them. If an actual apocalypse happened I hope I am one of the ones, like the Ranchers, that don't give up and keep pressing on even in the hard and seemingly dark times. Not only to just survive but to thrive. To keep holding on to hope for a better tomorrow. Rain or shine, bring it on. It's almost like the Ranchers are giving life a middle finger lol. Like, Gosh dang it life, you want us dead, oh heck no we will live and not only will we live but to really add insult to injury we are choosing to thrive.

I love how the story is almost like Polaroid photos with little notes at the bottom of each; it feels a bit like a scrapbook documenting important moments in the story which is cool. It's so unique and it's nothing like I've ever seen before. It's incredible.

My goodness, the way that you draw characters so expressive and dynamic with their poses and the amount of details in the background. It's absolutely captivating. I love studying and admiring each picture.

Your art and stories are inspiring and healing. I fully believe that people's worlds will be flipped on their heads for the better when they experience the stories and art that you create. You flipped my world. Please don't stop creating. The world needs what you have to give. 

Once more thank you for the incredible story, I can't imagine how much time you spent on it. The love you have for the AU really shines through your work. You are an inspiration. 

I look forward to what comes next in the RAAU, rain or shine, bring it on.

Sincerely,

- Anonymous Fan <3 <3 <3

P.S Also a song rec that I think is really neat and hope you think is neat too: 

Owl City's Bird with a Broken Wing.

It makes me think of Jimmy after the apocalypse started but before Tango found him. 

P.P.S if you are reading this, thanks so much for reading this long letter. Lol.

Thank you very much! I think you might enjoy two series, called yokohama shopping log and Zom 100: bucketlist of the dead. Yokohama shopping log is a very lovely slice of life healing series about the twilight of the world and the people who've accepted it and decided to live the best they can, including robots. Zom 100 is about a man so beaten down by modern work culture the apocalypse sets him free and gives him and everyone around him the opportunity to be human and enjoy life again. They're both series about human compassion and small joys in the end times, and big influences on raau.

And that reminds me! I've been work on raau for over a full year now! It's crazy to me, I hope to work on it again soon.

[ryusuisloveinterest]

Hello!~ I would like to ask you to write headcanons about Sai Nanami (Dr. Stone) and his everyday life with his s/o in the modern world. Thank you in advance!💖

Hello girlypop! I hope you’re doing well! Imma name you 🔹anon! I love Sai so much I got so excited when I saw his name so I hope you enjoy💝

Sai Nanami Headcanons💘

Let’s start with how you two met

There was a preview to a new Dragon Quest that was exclusive to attendants at a gaming convention 

So Sai definitely had to go! 

Francois and even Ryusui helped him disguise himself so a whole mob of people wouldn’t bombard him 

He stood in line super early like any good fan and was even one of the of the people in the front row

It just so happen that you were sitting right next to him 

While he was waiting for the preview to start, he pulled his phone out and began playing Pokémon Go

“Which team are you on?”

Your voice startles Sai. He looks to his side and sees the most beautiful person he’s ever seen

You show him your screen. “I’m Valor.”

“M-mystic…”

“Dang! Guess that means we’re rivals!” You giggle softly

You mess with your hair, a little embarrassed. “My name’s (y/n).”

When you see his blushing red, nervous face it’s got to be the cutest thing in the world

“S-Sai..” he mumbles.

There’s an awkward silence between the two of you until the show starts, then the both of you get lively 

When you both see your favorite characters and new ones you cheer and clap

What’s the trailer is done you get your stuff to leave

“D-do you w-wanna hunt Pokémon with me?”

And with that you both became close

To Sai’s huge relief you’ve never heard of the Nanami Conglomerate before 

“We make boats? We’re one the richest families around?”

You just shake your head

Ryusui puts on this huge extravagant setup so Sai can ask you out, only for Sai to nearly faint from nerves

You accepted either way

Dating Sai can have its ups downs 

If you’re a really outgoing person it’s really hard to get him to go out much.

“Come on Sai let’s go dancing!”

“O-oh…but I’m not that good, so I’ll just ruin your night… it’s alright go without me.”

BUT one thing Sai will quickly take back everything he said if he saw how disappointed you looked

As he said, he is not the best but he really does try

Even though he wants to leave earlier than you’d like, you still can’t deny that you had a good time

I really feel like Sai would like a person who is more indoorsy but not necessarily shy, just quiet (if that makes any sense at all)

His favorite thing to do with you of course is play video games, no matter what game it is 

I also think he’d teach you how to build your own computer 

You get so fascinated by Sai’s enthusiasm. He normally isn’t so talkative or excited but when he’s building computers it’s a while different story 

Of course he’d try your hobbies as well

If you liked to read he’d try some of your favorite books or if you liked to draw he’d do his best to draw you something nice

None of the Nanami’s are cooks💀

But he’d try to learn for you! 

He’d mainly learn the basics though, like eggs💀

Anything else he’ll gladly hand it over to Francois

Sai also doesn’t sleep

You’ll see him on his PC at like midnight 

So you’ll squeeze in on his lap and fall asleep there

It’s honestly his favorite thing in the world

It also encourages him to go to bed because he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable! So he’ll gently carry you to your shared bed, and as soon as he feels how soft the mattress is he’ll pass out with you

[actualbird]

what is your ranking of all the main event stories we have received so far? (as in sott, enduring light, skadi etc)

OHHHH THIS IS A FUN QUESTION, THANK YOU ANON!!! let me go from my highest to lowest.

for this question, im taking "main event stories" to mean the Big 4 SSR Events where the event story involves the entire team all at once (so no xmas events or sotn, or solo or duo events). and i will be judging these events primarily on their event story (so not as much as the gameplay, though thatll also be a factor. but i wont be judging the cards)

OH DANG WHY DID I EXPLAIN IT, THE TOT WIKI DOES A MUCH BETTER JOB AT DEFINING BIG 4 SSR EVENTS, HERE, THIS IS WHAT IM JUDGING

anyhoo, here is my personal ranking!

FIRST PLACE: Mysteries of the Lost Gold

my beloved, my favorite, my perfect shining star. lost gold was the first big event i played and it has yet to be dethroned as my favorite event story of all of tot. absolute homerun of a rich story with intrigue, high stakes, a good balance of tender moments and lighthearted ones, and just SO gripping in terms of all of the story threads coming together, plus the absolutely A+ nxx team interactions. my advice to every new player who comes into my inbox is "PLAY THE LOST GOLD DLC" because i love it so much. i will never shut up about how i love it so much. it has our very first raven!luke sighting. it has marius nearly getting stabbed. it has artem with gun. it has vyn doing that THING with the bow and arrow. LIKE. THIS EVENT IS PERFECT TO ME. it'll take something really really special to dethrone it.

SECOND PLACE: Enduring Light

this isnt recency bias speaking but my real honest thoughts: this story delighted me to no end. i was kept on the edge my seat for every single phase, and the sheer novelty of the story's setup and the gameplay was such a nice change of pace after the previous event formats started to get repetetive. i especially loved that this time, we had to suspect the nxx boys as well because that really added to my enjoyment of this event. it really felt like a mystery that had to be solved by us, and not just a mystery that will unravel by itself as long as we keep playing, if that makes sense? my point is i was immensely immersed in enduring light and i love it lots lots lots. luke looking stupendously hot in his outfit during the entire event was also a huge plus.

THIRD PLACE: a tie between Blizzardous Threads of Red & Mystery of Bakerlon

i really loved BTR and bakerlon!!! both of their murder cases were adequately thrilling for me, though towards the end i could feel the adrenaline wearing off, if that makes sense? like by the 4th phase, things were slotting together already in a way that like lowered the feeling of intrigue. also i know i said i wouldnt judge much based on gameplay, but these two deserve a shoutout for MINIGAMES I WANT TO KILL W MY BARE HANDS. bakerlon's crystal tasks were so repetetive to me, and BTR's TIMED ESCAPE ROOM THINGIES heightened my blood pressure several times HAHA

FOURTH PLACE: To My Beloved: Moonlit Eve (anniv 2)

this has a soft spot in my heart for including all of the old NPCs from main story, and that was very heartwarming. while theres no mystery that needs solving, just seeing the team hang out together and have fun together was such a treat for my soul

FIFTH PLACE: Secrets of the Tomb

sott is where i'd say the event story quality is inching towards the meh scale. the mystery here was interesting but was not particularly gripping to me. it might just be a me thing, but i enjoyed the side stories (the ones you get with the boys when you investigate the artefacts) more than the actual event story itself.

SIXTH PLACE: A Love Poem to Skadi

ahhhhh skadi. psychological and medical malpractice horrors skadi.....HJSVKHSJDFDSF. i will admit, the mystery in this story is HORRIFIC and it was enjoyable to unravel it, but here is where i break my rule again of not talking about gameplay but mAAAAAAN THE GAMEPLAY HINDERED MY ENJOYMENT OF THE MAIN PLOT LOTS. it was rather difficult for me to do all the exploration in that manor and that stalled my absorption of the story too. plus, i think the fact that the story is Over made the story have a bit of a muted quality to it. not in a bad way (i distinctly remember i wrote a semi-analysis post about how i enjoyed that the story was in the Past) but it definitely affected the mood of the gameplay, if that makes sense?

(that is the third time ive said "if that makes sense" in this response, THREE STRIKES AND YER OOOOOUT)

SEVENTH PLACE: Blissful Fete (anniv 1)

be honest with me.....do YOU remember the event story plot of blissful fete? cuz i sure dont. JVSKDHFSJDHSF. i only remember getting very very mad at luke during that fucking minigame where we guess if the card is higher or lower. that being said, if i cant even remember much of the story, then it didnt make an impact on me and couldve been improved.

so thats my ranking! thank u for the ask :D

[theartofdreaming1]

Fanfic Tagging Game

I got tagged by the lovely @wurzelbertzwerg - thank you! 💕

1. How many works do you have on AO3? - 30

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

111,591 words (at the moment)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I'm writing for The Quarry and the Batfam fandom (primarily DickBabs and BatCat)... I have posted fics for The Flash TV series and Brooklyn 99 on AO3 in the past... plus, some other stuff that is only on my old fanfiction.net account (although I've been considering updating my old Young Justice fics, so I may post them on AO3 some day)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Um, Rush Hour, Partners, Knight in Shining Armor, Loveable Nerds and Superheroes and Thank You, Becky Cooper - except for Partners, these are all Flash fics, which is wild, because aside from Rush Hour and Loveable Nerds and Superheroes, both of which I'm still quite proud of, I don't necessarily think that my Flash fics are my best works, but okay ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

5. Do you respond to comments?

Sometimes? I often don't know what to say in response 😅- but I appreciate every single one of them sooo much! 💕

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Okay... so this question prompted me to do some re-reading of my older fics... and honestly? Nothing on my AO3 account had an angsty ending to begin with ^^; So I had to go waaaay back, to my old ff.net account - and I think my Young Justice fic "Pain" had the angstiest ending (and even then, it's pretty moderate... even 17-year-old me was fairly mellow ;)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmh... Maybe my Flash fic "Coming Home"? It certainly has a very warm and fuzzy ending ☺️

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I can recall, no...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope; smut is not for me

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, I don't really write crossovers (only multiple fandoms that already share a universe, i.e. Batfam-comic fandom)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope - since I'm a very slow writer, I wouldn't want to punish any potential co-writer of mine with that curse either...

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

To write? Hmmh... BatCat and DickBabs for sure! (Plus, LauraMax are getting there, too... I just need to give them some time to cement their position ;)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh boy, there are plenty of fics I'm worried I'll never finish... but I choose to stay optimistic enough to think that I will, someday, finish all the WIPs that I want to finish... (please, writing Gods, please help me accomplish this task!!!!)

16. What are your writing strengths?

Umm... I like to think that my writing is quite, um, pleasant? What I mean is, that it's pretty accessible (not too convoluted or complex, but also not boring) and while I sometimes write angsty/tense/sad moments, my stories generally have happy endings... And even though my writing isn't exactly groundbreaking, I still stand by all the ideas/concepts behind every story I've written so far, so... yeah...

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The process of writing itself (I have to fight for every single word I commit onto the page... I swear, me and writing are engaged in the most tedious wrestling match nobody ever wants to see... ever). I get excited for a particular story, start to jot down some basic ideas, maybe even put in some research for a few points that need to get tackled beforehand - and then psyche myself out of being able to write down that dang story 😩 (Doesn't help that I have a hard time making decisions and get super intimidated when faced with all the possible directions a story could go)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Depends on the context - if we're talking about two foreigners (e.g. Germans) that are talking to each other in their native tongue and maybe don't want to be understood by the people around them (who, for the sake of this argument, are all English speakers) - then, maybe I would give it a whirl, because it would fit the idea behind the conversation (especially if it's a short exchange that people, who would be interested in learning what the Germans said, could look up via Google translate) - but, imo, this only works in very specific circumstances and for short exchanges - otherwise it can get tedious real quick... and personally, I don't like writing in German and don't feel confident enough in my Spanish skills to attempt it for that language, so writing English all the way is it for me

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Um... a quick look at my old, old fanfiction.net account tells me that my first posted fanfic was for the "Sonny With A Chance" fandom when I was 14 years old - the writing is a little... rough, for sure 😅 (although, to be fair, this was written at a point when I had only had, like, 3-4 years of proper English class... all things considered, it's not that bad)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Don't make me choose, I can't pick just one!

I very, very much love my BatCat fic "The Chase" - it just feels like pure Selina, the pacing of it is great and I think it portrays Bruce/Selina's relationship dynamic so very well (plus, it has some of my favorite sentences I've ever written in there!)

I also love Partners for being the longest, most ambitious story I've written so far (yes, despite the fact that I still need to add that epiogue!) and On the Reciprocal Attraction of Heavenly Bodies has the potential to become my best fic of them all, with the Austen-esque writing style and all the historical and literary research I plan on putting into it... I'm certainly very fond of the two chapters that already exist.

And This Is Not Over, But Just the Beginning is so fun and challenging in a different way; being a Quarry fic, with the whole werewolf element, it's darker and more angsty than anything I've written in a long time - but that's what makes it so fascinating for me to write (and read)

I'll tag @queenofbaws @thychesters @rosegardeninwinter @icequeen-07 @clearbluewaters and @mollywog - only if they want to, of course! :)

[maybeimamuppet]

Veronica and Cady for the character thingy plss

DID I NEVER POST THIS HOLY SHIT OOPS

eeep i just found this and don’t remember when i got it i’m sorry friend!! i’m assuming this is for the list and not the bingo but if i’m wrong i’ll do it again lol

ok i have to do cady first bc it won’t let me type beneath veronica’s picture so woo i love it here soooo much /s

CADY

favorite thing about them

she has so much depth! i love how adorable she is and how bubbly and high energy and yet soft spoken and sweet she is but she also has a dark and vindictive streak in her that’s really fun to play with. also she’s like really fun to torture sometimes lol whoops

least favorite thing about them

again i hate how many people she uses for her own gain and how power hungry she gets

favorite line

“shuck! i started to say shoot and i almost said fu-” for funnies and uhhh

“fearless is the one thing i can be now, no friends, nothing to lose” and whatnot for like more emotional. also all of i see stars i still get misty every time i listen to it

brOTP

damiaaaaan. they wear matching outfits whenever they can, damian comes over to cadnis’ house for movie nights twice a week at least, they watch bootlegs together without janis bc she doesn’t like them. just. mwah. i could go off but i’ll hold back lol

OTP

TAKE A WILD GUESS DUDE

nOTP

aaron. they only worked bc of erikyle. if i could drop kick every other aaron into the road i would.

random headcanon

she can talk backwards!

unpopular opinion

there’s a point where she is fully aware of what she’s doing and how wrong it is and she actively chooses to continue for a hot second until the burn book being released and whatnot snaps her out of it that people do not talk about enough. i know i’m guilty of it too but she is not all innocent and naive and coerced into this shit like she’s a full teenager she knows damn well what she’s doing

song i associate with them

a change in me from beauty and the beast which hath inspired many a fic in my early days. at the plaza from the violet hour loosely inspired i’ll be there for christmas. like very loosely. uhhh and i think the like vibes of true love from frozen (or basically anything anna sings lol) even if it’s not necessarily the same meaning

favorite picture of them

i picked two for both her and veronica bc iiiim greedy lol

alright well one of cady’s is with ronnie for some fuckass reason thanks tumblr!!! i tried i swear

VERONICA

favorite thing about them

honestly this isn’t as much to do with her as a character as it is to do with the people who’ve played her but she has done so much for my self esteem in a really roundabout way. as someone with dark brown eyes and frizzy kinda untamable brown hair reading fic about her helped me appreciate more things about myself.

if you struggle with self image i really cannot recommend highly enough finding a character who looks and acts like you and reading stories where someone is absolutely, irrevocably in love with them. whether that’s platonically or romantically. i know it’s weird but being able to look in the mirror or at some aspect of my personality that i don’t like and say “that’s still lovable” is WONDERFUL.

least favorite thing about them

i despise the way she treats martha and also baby girl is kind of a doormat!! she’s one of those shitty wicker doormats that scratches the hell outta your feet but like dang!!

favorite line

not a line but her face in the musical when jd and kurt and ram start fighting

but also the way barrett delivers the “oH MY GOD!” over chandler’s corpse is immaculate

and i had one of her like super iconic ones everyone knows in my head but now i can’t remember it siiiigh

brOTP

marthaaaaa buddies since babies. also like. still alive and post MUCH therapy jd has a lot of fun potential

OTP

poly heathers!! but to put them individually in order, mac, chandler (those two are almost tied), duke

nOTP

JD. i know he goes by his initials and that’s just his name but i was trying to yell that. i do not like him i think he stinky get him outta there

random headcanon

she’s not allowed to wear pants with drawstrings anymore because she’s gotten stuck in them too many times. also she’s not allowed to use superglue bc she’s glued her fingers together too many times.

yes both of these are true of me shut up

unpopular opinion

she’s a lot weaker than most people think and a lot stronger than most people think st the same time

and i’m not always a huge fan of her being autistic i think she’s just that painfully awkward and dense

song i associate with them

it is so much harder than you would think to pick songs that are not from their shows?? like the only one in my head is i’m blue dabadeedabadie like i don’t KNOW OKAY

favorite picture of them

[justagalwhowrites]

Oh.

Oh.

Oh my god.

I truly didn’t know what would shake out with Savvy, if they’d find her or not, who would find her, when, where, how. This was so good. So perfect. The fact that Ellie was with Joel surely put Savvy at ease. He knew just what to say. The fact that truly Ellie was integral since she clocked the snare in the first place.

I have read SO MANY Pedro fan give in the last year. Like a gross amount. Three have made me cry, and I’m not a crier. This chapter, this moment was one. For the record the other two were also yours 🤣

THANK YOU and holy CRAP I want to keep reading!! I know it can feel weird but please consider setting up a Kofi or something. Maybe you can’t use the money but then maybe donate it to a cause you love bc you deserve SOME kind of compensation for the professional quality gut punch beautifully crafted work you deliver, and with some an incredible speed at that 😭❤️

(ALSO I was very concerned knowing Bambi was going to tentatively get with someone else and even knowing it wasn’t going to work I was so scared. But I think it was important she doesn’t just get back with him. She’s been so hesitant and guarded it makes sense her incredibly strong feelings be tested and dang if the proof isn’t in the raspberries that Joel is it for her.)

Hi Bestie!!!!!

I really tried to keep Savvy's fate a mystery so we really felt some of how Bambi's been feeling all this time! But Joel immediately going into girl dad mode with her just... I love him. I love him so much. And Ellie being there helped so much, both because she saw the snare but also because she was basically a walking green flag. This young girl is OK with this man - clearly willing to kill for this man - so he's trustworthy. She was integral to getting Savvy home. Joel's baby saved Bambi's baby and I love them for it.

OMG I'm so happy my writing has made you feel so deeply! These characters and stories mean so much to me and the fact that they have an impact on others is so extraordinary to me. I love storytelling so much, that we can all experience these things together and share in the grief and the love and the passion and the joy.

You're not the first to mention a Ko-Fi and I haven't set one up simply because I genuinely don't need the money? In a lot of ways, I've lucked into a fairly comfortable life (not trying to downplay the fact that I've worked and struggled but I've had a lot of privilege and a lot of luck) and have everything I need, most things I want and a nice savings account. But the donation thing is a nice idea! So I think I'll turn on the tip function here on Tumblr and see what happens with the intent of donating what I get from it. That being said, if something I've written moves you to the point that you'd like to pay me for it, please consider tipping another author who hasn't been as lucky as I have financially. I'm sure they would really appreciate it and I'd love to support other authors vicariously!

And AHH yes I totally get you! I wanted Julie to happen for a few reasons? Mostly so Bambi wasn't just singularly focused on Joel. I don't think that suits who she is as a person and I don't think it would be good for her to do that, either. But I also wanted her to really understand that yes, Joel is it for her. She's never felt this way about anyone else and she never will again and moving beyond that - especially when he's RIGHT THERE - isn't going to happen. She needs to learn how to accept and forgive his past and trust who he is now otherwise she's going to be stuck living without the kind of love she knows is out there. She really knows that now and it's putting her in the right place to really process what happened with Joel. They're so close! They really are!

Thank you so so much for reading and for your kind words, Bestie!! Love you!!

[dreamerswriter]

On the First Day of the New Year, A Fun Game

Gotta say, love seeing how terrified Ace is of Ruggie. That actually sent a shiver down my spine when I thought about Ruggie and Azul working together.

Gods, dang, Ruggie! How much money do you want for yourself!? I mean, I get it. I would totally do that too. But wow!

So, Azul is going to hire Ruggie to do this, right? Also, Ruggie, you scare me. I like looking at stuff and wondering! It is who I am!

Do not! This is a scam! Ruggie is playing you like the fools you are! Trey must know that right!?

Who the frick does a New Year's duel?!

Hock line in sinker..... You two will lose something great and when it happens, I hope I am there to watch.

The only person here who is sane.

........... Hey, anime, don't animate the series. Just the events. That's all I want.

You both collectively share a brain cell! So much so that I believe Ace and Deuce are a single student like Grim and Yuu.

I come from the future, Deuce is about to help his mother and Ace and Riddle head to a tropical island that gave me Kh flashbacks.

You see that? That's character development for Riddle. He doesn't care, and they should accept the lost with diginity and grace.

I am honestly surprise with how tame this event is so far. I was expecting something similar to the last one, except Cater is taking photos, Ruggie is stealing stuff to sell for a higher price, Vil is ordering and getting stuff done, and Sebek is screaming. Well, who knows? Who is tomorrow anyway? Jack and Leona? Well, that might be interesting!

Happy New Year everyone! Here's to another fun year of posts from this ridiculous app, stories I am working on, and any other videos I make. Thanks for your help last year, and I hope we will have fun and a wonderful year too!

[waterfallofspace]

hi!! your d/azai fic was SO GOOD OMGG i kept trying to figure out what was setting him off & i never would’ve guessed M/ORI’S COLOGNE?! brilliant especially since c/huuya bought it for him XD

could i possibly request s/oukoku feat. allergic to dust d/azai (mayhaps with kitten snzs 🥺) and prompts 36, 40, 45, 47, 75? (or whatever you can do 🫶🏻)

Oh my god- hello, thank you!! That's so sweet of you hehehe~~ I'm glad you enjoyed!! And thank you so much for the request, I had so much fun writing this one hehe~ I did try 'stuffy talk' writing for the first time in this, it seemed needed in the context, but I usually try to avoid that, so I hope it doesn't take away from the story too much~ (also I've seen the other two I assume are also from you, and I will be working on those soon too!!) 2.3k words, prompts 36, 40, 45, 47, and 75, story under cut! 36. “Blow your nose, I can’t understand you.”  40. “You’re sneezing everywhere. Clearly, something’s up.”  45. “Your nose is literally twitching.” 47. Hiding sneezes  75. Accidentally inhaling an allergen.  (References to swearing, and mild/playful violence just in case anyone doesn’t like those!)

~~~~~~~

There was always a level of tension between Soukoku, but it had only intensified after Dazai made his escape. Chuuya has never had a ‘forgive and forget’ attitude, not when it comes to him. So when Mori and Fukuzawa decide to team up against a common enemy, Chuuya lets himself believe he’ll only have to cooperate with the detective agency from a distance. 

“Chuuya~! Stop staring off into space. I know I’m the brains of this operation, but you could still attempt to help.” 

Growling in response, Chuuya feels his eyes roll on their own ‘Apparently just as fed up with him as I am-’, thoughts drifting back to the idiot currently attempting to pick a lock. It was his job to get them in the hideout they’d been ordered to investigate. ‘Of course it wouldn’t be from a distance. It could never be that easy, not with this asshole working for them.’ 

Despite the sentiment being entirely in his head, Dazai seems able to hear it, casting a smug smile in Chuuya’s direction. ‘Fucking creepy how he can do that. I know his gift doesn’t let him read minds, but sometimes I wonder…’ 

“We’re not supposed to leave any indication we were here. Blasting down the door wouldn’t exactly be subtle. So this one’s all on you. What, not up for the cha-”

“Got it! Chuuya didn’t really doubt me, did he?”

“Sh- shut up. Let’s just get this over with.”  

Dazai’s posture is infuriatingly calm, a brash contrast to the waves of tension surging through Chuuya’s very being… until they enter the building. Dazai immediately tenses up, fingers flexing at his side as he attempts to feign nonchalance. Normally seeing the mask slip a bit would send shivers of pleasure down Chuuya’s spine, however they were in enemy territory with an assignment to complete. ‘Now is not the time for one of your… things… Dazai. Whatever this is, lock it away.’ 

“You take the papers over there, I’m gonna check for any other rooms, exits, or spaces to hide something. Got it?” 

“My my, quite bossy, aren’t we? You know I love when you get all controlling~.” 

“Ach. Just yell if you find anything useful, alright?”

“Yeahh.” 

On anyone else, it would just be a slip of the tongue. Something not worth noticing, let alone mentioning, but on Dazai? It’s similar to having gunfire rain on you from an unknown source. Chuuya starts to feel hairs on the back of his neck standing up, trained eyes scanning the room for whatever danger might be coming his way. ‘Come on, Dazai. Either sort yourself out, or tell me what’s wrong… This mission needs to go smoothly, if you’re sensing dang-’ 

“hih’ekshh-! hh’gshh-!” 

“You say something?”

“No- hah’kshht-enk’shhiew-! Excuse me, no I didn’t.” 

Chuuya finds his mouth hanging open, Dazai’s nose noticeably pinker than it was a few minutes ago. In the silence, Dazai attempts to busy himself with papers they both know he’s already scanned. ‘Did- did he just…?’

“W- was that a sneeze?” 

“Wow~ great observation skills, Chuuya!” 

Dazai narrowly avoids the kick aimed his way, Chuuya catching his balance with a spin as Dazai smirks at him, letting out a grunt as the next one lands its blow. Taking his turn to smirk now, Chuuya begins his retort. 

“Oh, whatever. Just keep-”

“eh’ntshh-aiyshh’iiee-! N- not done- heH-! eashh’iew-! teshh-en’kshhew-! hh’knshhiie-!” 

“That was pathetic.”

“You know, it’s customary in most places to offer a blessing.” 

“Not here, it ain’t. What’s wrong with you, anyways?”

The question is ignored, Dazai’s eyes snapping back to the papers he’s picked up, mouthing words under his breath too fast for Chuuya to interpret as he breezes through. Electing to ignore the obvious attempts to derail the conversation, Chuuya takes a seat next to the desk, letting his feet rest right on the papers Dazai’s looking through.

“I believe I asked you a question.”

“You only believe you asked? Chuuya must be sli- hehh… slip- slipping- heAh’tezshh-eiiszshh-hh’keshh’iew-!”

“Eh?! For Christ’s sake, just answer the fucking question.”

“‘For Christ’s sake’, that’s quite the western expression, and yet you can’t offer a mere blessing to your… eH’Knshh-tieshhii-! kshh-eishh-hH’knchhiew-! suffering partner?” 

“I’ll ask once more, what’s wrong with you?” 

Dazai’s eyes are still trained on the papers, his face remaining pointedly calm to the untrained eye. Which, Chuuya is not. ‘He’s attempting to relieve the itch without touching his nose. Apparently not as easy as he’d like it to be, judging by the tremor in his hands that he can’t seem to stall.’ 

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t play coy, Dazai. You’re sneezing everywhere. Clearly something’s up.” 

“It’s a perfectly normal action. Everyone sneezes at times, even Chuuya.” 

“Yeah, but not this much. Your nose is literally twitching as we speak.”

“Th- thanks for the re- reminder…. hehH-!”

He manages to pull his collar over his face before the next fit breaks through his quivering nose.

“hNksh-hh’kshhew-! tinshh-enshhiew-! hh’kshh-! heH’tschh’iew-! hahh’kshh’iie-!” 

Chuuya smirks at the way Dazai sniffles with a deep urgency as he attempts to catch his breath. ‘Pathetic is right, those were the tiniest things I’ve ever heard, and they still left him breathless. For someone so tough, he’s really quite frail.’ 

“Yeah, that’s not normal.”

“You really don’t remember? I have a slight… sensitivity to dust.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

His facade long forgotten, Dazai raises a hand to practically scrub his nose raw as he lets a few itchy moans fall out. Chuuya feels a pang in his chest, one that he quickly smothers before it can build into actual sympathy for the idiot.

“You don’t remember- Well I guess it- kshh’iew-!  was a bigger deal for me than you. That time Mori sent us to recover some stolen files from that warehouse that they apparently hadn’t c- clehh… hH’kshh-eishhh’ii-! Cleaned in years?” 

“I do actually, though I seem to remember you ducking away pretty fast after we found them- oh motherfucker, was that because you were holding off an allergy attack?!”

“Yep! Thankfully for that mission I foresaw the possible complication and took some precautions. However, in this case, I wasn’t aware of the… state… this building would be in. hh’kshh’iew-! Nnshh-!” 

Before Chuuya can form a reply, Dazai raises a hand, his face unreadable once more. Chuuya freezes, eyes darting to the hallway behind them as footsteps echo off the walls. ‘Impossible to tell how many there are, it’s too empty in here, the sound is distorted. I’d guess at least five, but it could be more. There’s enough bullets in the drawer I found before to take them out if I can get to-’ His thoughts are interrupted by Dazai’s hand against his arm, nullifying his powers before he can make a move. 

“Remember, we’re not supposed to tip our hand just yet.” 

It’s hushed, but Chuuya hears it perfectly, his focus always irreversibly glued to Dazai when his gift is being subdued. Something Dazai knows full well, and was counting on. He lets his mask slip once more, letting Chuuya read his intentions without a word. ‘We need a plan, and it can’t be violence.’ 

“Fine.” 

‘I noticed a crawlspace when I was surveying the room. It’ll be tight in between the beams, but there’s at least a bit of space vertically. Either way it’s better than getting found. Normally I’d just hide on the ceiling, people so rarely check there, but given Dazai’s here, it's better not to leave him to fend for himself.’

Pressing himself against the floor and sliding through the crack, Chuuya starts to drag Dazai in with him, pausing as the nervous energy radiates off the man.

“Chuuya I don’t thi-” 

“Just shut up and get in, we don’t have time to argue.”

Dazai hesitates once more, tension flooding Chuuya’s body. ‘He’s not one to hesitate. Ever. But we don’t have a choice, it’s this or be caught.’ Finally Dazai lets out a sigh, mask on enough to keep Chuuya calm, but not enough to be comfortable. Chuuya braces himself against the floor with his hands as Dazai climbs into the crack, kneeling over him.

“Well this is cozy~.”

“You better keep your mouth shut. If they find us I will end you.” 

The footsteps continue to descend towards the room, finally stopping as smothered voices begin breaking the silence. Chuuya closes his eyes to try and make out the words better, a trick he regrettably learned from Dazai of all people. When one sense is removed from the equation, it can help the others hone in with greater ease.

“Ch- Chuuya…”

His eyes snap open at the breathy quality of the voice. Dazai has his hands pressed against the floor to keep his balance, and even through the muted light Chuuya can see his unattended nose starting to tremble. Dazai’s attempting to rub it against his shoulder, but the soft cloth just seems to be irritating it further.

“Don’t you dare, Dazai.” 

The panic seeps into the whisper before he can stop it, Dazai reacting with a sharp nod, eyes starting to water. Chuuya can feel Dazai’s body trembling as every scraping breath seems to drag more allergens into his tortured nose.

‘Fucking damn it. Even with those pathetic little things, given the echo in this room, they’re sure to hear us if he breaks into a full attack.’ Just as he’s starting to come up with a plan, Chuuya’s body starts moving on its own, gloved hand pinching Dazai’s nose shut just as the first hitch escapes. 

“heH- Wha-” 

“Not. A. Word.” 

Chuuya can feel Dazai’s nose pulsating under his grasp, a few tears freeing themselves from his eyes as he crushes them shut against the building irritation. But finally, after a few painstakingly long minutes, his breathing returns to normal. Chuuya carefully releases his grasp, hand still hovering in front of Dazai’s face. He rolls his eyes at the theatrics, snarling in an attempt to disguise the warmth flooding his ears. 

“Better?”

Dazai starts to nod, sniffling lightly, before intensely shaking his head, nose flaring with a passion. He gets only enough time to lean into Chuuya’s hand, attempting to stifle the fit that breaks loose. Chuuya almost pulls away, but one of Dazai’s hands comes up to grip his wrist, pulling it closer.

“knGt-! nGT-! ihKDt-! hH’AHngT-!”

“G- gross, what the fuck are you do-” 

Realization dawns across Chuuya’s face, chased away by a guilt fueled blush that settles in his cheeks. ‘When sliding in here, I used my hands on the floor. The dust covered floor. I just practically smothered his nose in his allergen. Fuck- this isn’t good…’ Dazai’s eyes are flooding with itchy tears, only getting a chance to inhale when he’s building up to another stifle.

“kndT-! heH- indT-! hH’EnDt-! Ch- Chuuya… hH’NDT’iew-! heAhh- kNgT-!”

“Hold on-” 

Letting his head peak out, Chuuya attempts to scan the room, focus being torn between searching for possibly enemies and- “hHnDT-!” the constant- “nGT-!” stream of- “ihkNdT-!” itchy stifles- “ehdNXt-!” being aimed at- “heH’KxT-!” his gloved hand. ‘I can’t see anyone, and other than the obvious, I’m not hearing anything to suggest we’re not alone.’ 

“Okay, I think it’s safe no-” 

The half-finished confirmation is all Dazai needs, ducking into his shoulder with a fit that seems to only grow in desperation as each tiny sneeze falls out on top of each other. 

“eh’kShh’iee-inchh-eshhh-kechhew-eh’knshhiiee-!”

Pulling himself out of the crawlspace, Chuuya attempts to brush the dust from his clothes, peeling off his glove with a wince before offering a hand to help (yank) Dazai out too. The normally put together man is currently sneezing too rapidly to even acknowledge the change of scenery. He’s attempting to aim for his shoulder, but Chuuya notices he’s fairly unsuccessful, huffing a few blessings between the outpouring. 

“hH’kshh-ensshheww-nnshh-tiesshhie-!” 

“Bless you.” 

“aishhiew-! heHhH-! kezzshhiee-! Ehh’shhiew-!” 

“And again.” 

“hah’kshh-knnsh-nnshhie-!” 

“Going for a record there, Dazai?” 

A smirk has worked its way onto the incredibly itchy looking face as Dazai’s watery eyes flicker up to meet Chuuya’s, a hint of mischief dancing through the waves.

“M- enshh’iew-! Mea- hh’kshh-! nnSh-! eh’knShii-! Mean, Ch- chushh’iew-! heH’kshh-enschh-tezzshh’iew-! Chuuya.”

“Bless you. Don’t try to talk, you moron. It’s making me dizzy.” 

“heH’inGShh’iew-! ddshh’ii-! nnSHh-! heH’kSHHiew-!”

“Christ Dazai. You gonna live?” 

“You dknow tha- heh’KShhiiew-! nndshh’ii-! Thadt wa-”

The congestion in his voice cuts right through Chuuya’s brain, a grimace forming in response.

“Blow your nose, I can’t understand you for shit like this.” 

“And whadt exacdtly do you wandt me dto use? I have dnothing to blow idt ond-” 

Chuuya sighs heavily, hand reaching into a pocket to pull out the handkerchief he keeps there incase of emergencies. ‘I guess this qualifies, though the idea of Dazai’s fluids on more of my clothing makes me feel a little ill.’

As soon as it's in Chuuya's hand, Dazai lunges for it, having the decency to turn away as he releases a handful of throat scraping blows that have Chuuya wincing again. When he speaks again his voice is still hoarse, congestion seeping through the edges, but at least it’s decipherable. 

“Ahem. Like I was saying, you know that was entirely your fault, right?” 

“It’s not my fault you have such a weak nose.” 

“hH’enkshh-! nndshh’iew-! innShh’ii-! mmShhiew-! I think it heard you.” 

Rolling his eyes, Chuuya throws a punch at Dazai’s arm, a touch of guilt invading his mind when the blow lands easily, Dazai hissing lightly through clenched teeth. ‘Apparently still too out of it to dodge.’ He feels heat drip into his cheeks once more, quickly quelled as Dazai’s mischief soaked eyes meet his own.

“I think you owe me a drink.” 

“Whatever. But you owe me a new handkerchief, and gloves.” 

Dazai brings said handkerchief back up to his nose to crush a few leftover sneezes, a smug smile forming on his face, despite the battered state of his sinuses. 

“hh’mmshh’iew-! eh’mmshhii-! heh’nnSHh-nnshh-heH’keshh’iew-! Deal.” 

No, Chuuya’s not one to ‘forgive and forget’. Things will never be the way they were. But as Dazai silently leans against him to steady himself while they walk out of the building, Chuuya’s hands automatically coming to brace him, he lets himself consider that maybe, just maybe, that’s okay. 

Maybe they can be something else. Something better. 

[literaticat]

Hi Jennifer,

So art notes for PB should be minimal. We’re supposed leave absolutely as much room for the illustrator as possible.

But for graphic novels, the writer provides lots of descriptions, breaks the script into pages and panels, has notes about emotions and tone, etc etc. There’s so much to do in illustrating a GN that it takes some load off the artist to predecide a lot of stuff.

So, my question is: how should a writer (who is not an illustrator) format a “script” for a comics-style pb and handle those “art notes”? Do PB editors know how to read a comics script? Should we still be leaving as much room for the illustrator as possible? Should we break the script into pages and panels?

Thank you!!!

First, yes, you are correct on both your first points.

A script for a graphic novel looks much like a screenplay. The "Art Notes" are where descriptive places would be in a screenplay. The dialogue is tagged, as are sound effects.

So it might look something like:

--

Page 1.

Exterior, a suburban neighborhood at sunset -- the street lights have just come on, and a boy, age 10, stocky build, is building something in a treehouse while MOM, still wearing nursing scrubs from a long day at work, calls to him from the doorway.

1981: Two Days Before Doomsday

It started like every other night.

MOM: "Johnny Jefferson, you get in this house right now!"

JOHNNY: [hastily putting a cover over his creation] "ALRIGHT, Ma!"

[Johnny scrambles out of the tree-house and Mom returns to the kitchen]

Page 2.

Interior, a homey but somewhat cluttered working class home. DAD is already at the table, drinking a beer and watching the news on an old-fashioned small B&W TV. 12-year-old sister JOSIE is setting the table with a sour expression on her face, Mom is clearly annoyed and plating lasagna as Johnny, disheveled, pulls up a chair.

TV announcer: [blaring] "More after an ad from our sponsor!"

JOSIE: "Thanks for helping, nimrod!"

JOHNNY: "Whatever, buttface!"

MOM: "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!"

The kids are shocked silent

TV: "Friends, do you have wobbly dentures?"

MOM: "DAVE. TV. NOW."

Dad shuts off the TV and everyone is now obviously abashed and on their "best behavior"

MOM: "THANK you." [demeanor changes to bright and cheery] "Now, who is going to say Grace?"

--

Though that's just a for-example. There are lots of ways to do it, and you aren't going to get dinged as long as you are consistent and it makes sense. You are leaving room for the illustrator here - you don't need to specify exactly what the characters are wearing or what they look like or what is happening unless it's actually important to the story. So for some stories, these descriptions will be VERY important. For some, not so much. In my example, it's important that Johnny is 10, that he's stocky, that the neighborhood is suburban, that the mom is a nurse, that the street lights have just come on, that they have a small, old TV, that dad is drinking beer, that it's a little cluttered, etc. It's NOT particularly important what kind of home it is (craftsman? ranch? etc) or what color hair mom has or what the other details are -- the illustrator will add all kinds of other details that round out this family.

Some authors do paginate, and I think can be helpful for you to do so so that both you, and the reader/editor/artist can tell how many pages the dang thing is going to be and approximately what's on each page -- if you have a TON of dialogue on one page for example, that's going to be a problem -- the artist needs to actually have room for all those words AND the pictures. Some authors get into the weeds about panels-per-page, etc, some only put that when it is important to the pacing of the page or something. Neither is strictly necessary, though.

There are lots of resources about how to format a GN online, and I'd also suggest you study books like Words for Pictures and Understanding Comics (and I'm sure there are lots of other good ones!) so you can get a better idea of what the medium is all about.

(And a PB editor may or may not be a GN editor. GN editors do, indeed, know how to read a GN script!)

[macawritesupdates]

Hell yeah historically inaccurate updated!! I'm so excited it's such a good fic! I started reading the new chapter and kept having to put my phone down to process before I could keep reading it's just that good. You've got me getting up to walk around the room every few paragraphs haha. Aww man lots of feels indeed with this one it opened strong with grandpa feels and then kept ramping up. Aww Yuuji ignoring the fact that he's starving hurts baby please you cannot ignore the fact that your body is dying 😢. Sukuna must be going through it watching the man he loves slowly wasting away but trying to pretend everything is fine. They're so cute though spending time together clearly caring about each other, Yuuji nuzzling Sukuna's hand had me kicking my feet that's so adorable. Sukuna wondering if Yuuji only likes some of his expressions makes me wonder how much that man wants to be loved in his entirety. So many people can love parts of him *cough* his power *cough* but not the whole of who he is. Yuuji I hate to say it but I don't think life would have been better if you'd been born in this era *side eyes MoL* you might be better off having been born in the future. Loved the detail that Sukuna taking time to think about stuff is a sign of respect from him and if he responds to a person quickly he probably doesn't care much for them or what they're saying. Not only is it a cool characterization, it also shows how well Yuuji knows him as a person. Damn Yuuji knowing him well as a person lemme just sit with that for a bit. I do love that for them truly they both deserve to be known and loved. The fact that Sukuna is trying so hard to understand Yuuji makes me feel so warm and fuzzy. I don't even have the words to describe it he's got this new relationship unlike any other he's previously had and it's a learning process but because Yuuji came to him and treated him like a person he's finally able to learn what human connection is like and now he's growing because of it. There's a line in the epic of gilgamesh (I know I know very modern very relevant right now forgive me for the obvious comparison lol) that mentions the two main characters a demigod king and a wild beast man the line goes “this is the story of them becoming human together” that line popped into my head reading this Yuuji was lost drifting away from humanity due to his grief and pain pushing him into a cog mentality and that's not even getting into the dehumanization he faces from others as Sukuna's vessel and the dehumanization all sorcerers face from the system itself and Sukuna dealt with hate and discrimination from birth eventually that discrimination became benevolence prejudice when he became powerful but he was still distinctly other and unwanted and not seen as human by most. Held up as a god on a pedestal but that's its own form of dehumanization and even as a god they didn't like him much. Ugh the pain and isolation got them both but then they met each other. Yuuji got to breathe freely in the past and feel joy again and Yuuji treated Sukuna like a real person which Let them both become human again together ❤. No need for gods or cogs here. (1)

Historically Accurate Yuuji is saying his life is hard and he wishes he was in the past while MOL Yuuji is standing in the background staring at the camera like he's on the office XD (Thank you for that mental image, it got me a giggle!) A lot of what I want to touch in Historically Accurate is the theme of dehumanization, connections, and handling grief c: Painful topics, but also want to speak of hope, so seeing your take on the chapter has me so happy that I'm making the points I wanted to make! <3

Also having to step away and walk circles...that was me writing this dang thing XD Had to keep closing it to go write something else because I was getting all sorts of choked up 8'3