#and occasionally remember to post them here

[meazalykov]

she will come back

esmee brugts x reader

summary: she didn't love you? you thought wrong.

warnings: acl injury, angst

you lay on the green grass during el clásico, your screams piercing through the heavy atmosphere. 

the clash with olga carmona felt like nothing more than a stumble in the moment, but the instant your knee twisted unnaturally, a sharp pain *crack, pop!* shot through your leg, forcing you to the ground. it was immediate, searing, and unmistakable—something was wrong. 

the pain grows unbearable as you clutch your knee, tears spilling freely down your face. the crowd noise dims in your ears, replaced by the pounding of your heartbeat and your choked sobs.

misa and olga, two of the madrid players, are the first to reach you by the goal post, their expressions mirroring the horror you feel. misa crouches down, her hand hovering awkwardly before settling gently on your shoulder. 

“you’re okay,” she says softly, though her wide eyes betray her uncertainty. she doesn’t know you personally, but shes heard about you through her friends alexia and jenni– who look at you as a little sister.

olga kneels beside you, gripping your hand tightly, whispering words of comfort in a tone so quiet you barely catch them. she says sorry too. however, no words can cut through the agony coursing through your body.

in the corner of your eye, a blur of blue sprints across the pitch. alexia, her presence is unmistakable as she drops to her knees beside you, her face stricken with worry. 

“it’s okay,” she murmurs, brushing the sweat-damp hair from your face. 

“you’re going to be okay, y/n. i’m here.”

you nod faintly, though you can barely focus on her words. the medics are on their way, their movements hurried as they reach you. you see your teammates gathering a few steps away, their faces etched with concern. 

through the haze, your vision catches on esmee, standing frozen near the halfway line. the dutch’s expression is one of pure anguish, her lips parted like she wants to call out to you, but she doesn’t move. 

you can’t tear your gaze away, even as tears blur the edges of your sight. she looks heartbroken, and for a fleeting moment, a different kind of pain stabs through your chest.

the medics secure your leg and prepare to carry you off the field. alexia walks beside the stretcher, her hand gripping yours firmly. you squeeze her hand as best you can, grateful for her presence, though your focus keeps flickering back to esmee. the woman’s figure grows smaller as you’re carried away, but the memory of her pained expression lingers.

the hospital room is sterile and quiet, save for the occasional beep of the machines monitoring your vitals. your knee feels heavy, weighed down by the aftermath of surgery and the reality of what has happened. 

alexia, ingrid, and fridolina are there, their voices hushed as they hover near your bedside. you can tell they’re trying to be strong for you, but the worry in their eyes is clear. you appreciate them more than you can say, especially since they’ve become your family here in barcelona—a necessity, given that you don’t have one back home to fall back on.

“she’s going to be okay,” alexia says quietly, though you’re not sure if she’s trying to reassure herself or the others. the woman remembers her own acl surgery, but it feels worse seeing you go through it.

a knock on the door pulls their attention. fridolina stands to answer it, expecting kika or another teammate like ellie or ewa. instead, the door swings open to reveal esmee.

the dutch woman’s presence sends a ripple of surprise through the room. she holds a bouquet of flowers in one hand and an iced latte in the other, her movements hesitant as if she’s unsure she should even be here. 

her eyes dart to you, still asleep, then to alexia.

“can i come in?” esmee asks softly, her voice barely audible.

alexia exchanges a glance with ingrid and fridolina before nodding. 

“of course.”

esmee steps inside, placing the flowers and the latte on the table beside your bed. she lingers, her fingers brushing the edge of the cup as if she’s debating whether to stay. the tension in the room is palpable, but no one says anything. eventually, alexia motions toward the door. 

“we’ll give you both some time.”

the other two follow her out, though fridolina pauses briefly, her gaze lingering on esmee before she closes the door behind her.

esmee sinks into the chair by your bedside, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. she watches you in silence, her expression a mixture of sadness and longing. her eyes trace the contours of your face, memorizing the details as if she hasn’t seen you every day for months.

its not like you died.. she told herself. however, your presence on the team will be lost. the excellent right-back you are, everyone will miss you for the rest of the season. 

esmee knew that being in the hospital room was different. this is quiet, intimate—a moment she doesn’t know if she’ll get again.

the first thing you notice when you wake up is the dull ache in your knee. the second is the figure sitting beside you, her presence so familiar that your heart stutters in your chest. you blink, your vision adjusting to the dim light of the room. 

“esmee?” you croak, your voice hoarse from hours of disuse.

es’s head snaps up, her eyes meeting yours. there’s a softness in her gaze that you haven’t seen in a long time, and it takes your breath away. 

“hey,” she says quietly, her voice steady but tinged with emotion.

the silence that follows is heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s the kind of silence that speaks volumes, the kind that carries years of unspoken words.

“how are you feeling?” esmee asks, her voice gentle.

“i’m okay,” you reply, though the ache in your knee tells a different story.

there’s a long pause before you speak again. 

“why are you here?”

her eyes soften, and she leans forward, her hands resting on the edge of your bed. 

“i still love you, you know?”

your breath catches in your throat. 

“you do?”

she furrows her brow, confusion flashing across her face. 

“yes? you thought i didn’t?”

you look away, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket. 

“that’s why i left, es.”

esmee’s voice drops to a whisper, barely audible but filled with pain. 

“why? i loved you so much when we were at at psv. i still do. it’s part of the reason i came to barcelona with you.”

your words spill out before you can stop them. 

“i saw you and dan at lynn’s party back in the netherlands. you were laughing together, and i thought…” you swallow hard. 

“i thought you wanted her back.”

esmee blinks, her expression shifting from shock to frustration. 

“dan? are you serious? we were joking about how bad we were together. we laughed because we were so obviously incompatible. that’s all it was.”

“oh.” the single word feels inadequate, hollow.

“why didn’t you talk to me about it?” she asks, her voice trembling. 

“why did you just… leave?”

you sigh, the weight of your past pressing heavily on your chest. 

“i was scared. my family left me, and i guess i developed this… thing where i leave first before anyone else can.”

her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she leans closer, her hand brushing against yours. 

“oh… you’re in therapy now, right? i heard alexia mention it to you before..”

you nod.

“yes. she and barcelona helped set me up with someone. it’s helping.”

she nods, her fingers curling around yours. the silence stretches again, but this time it feels lighter, less suffocating.

“i brought you an iced latte,” she says suddenly, gesturing to the cup on the table. 

“extra ice, chocolate cold foam. your favorite.”

a small smile tugs at your lips. 

“you remembered.”

“of course i did.”

you reach for the cup, and she helps you lift it to your lips. the familiar taste is a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions. after a sip, you set it back down and look at her.

“can you lean down?” you ask softly.

she complies, and as you wrap your arms around her, you press a kiss to her cheek. she pulls back, her face flushed, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“what are you doing?” she asks, her voice tinged with amusement.

you shift slightly, wincing at the movement as your body fully moves towards the left side of the large hospital bed. 

“making room. it’s late, and you need to sleep.”

she hesitates but eventually climbs into the bed beside you, careful to avoid your injured knee. the proximity feels natural, like slipping into a familiar rhythm.

“can we try again?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

her answer is immediate. 

“absolutely.”

the door creaks open, and alexia peeks inside. 

“can we come back in?”

you glance at esmee, and she nods. 

“of course,” you reply.

the trio steps inside, their eyes widening when they see the two of you curled up together. fridolina raises an eyebrow. 

“so… you two are back together?”

you exchange a glance with esmee before grinning. 

“yes,” you say in unison.

the room fills with laughter, the tension of the past finally dissolving.

masterlist

[deliriante]

Harrowhark “I could fix her” Nonagesimus vs. Gideon “I could make her worse” Nav

[rainingincale]

.

[heyclickadee]

There’s this binary set of attitudes I occasionally come across when talking to people who rarely come across wild animals any bigger or more varied than a robin or a squirrel.

On the one end, you’ll get people who think any carnivorous animal bigger than a fox is just itching to murder every living thing that comes across its path—especially the humans. I beta-read a story written by this guy who had grown up in suburban England. He had one chapter where his protagonist had to fight lions, another where he had to fight wolves, another where he had to fight a bear. And each time the animals really were just out to kill because the writer saw “kill” as an automatic action these animals would take; they came at this guy’s protagonist in CoD-esque waves just because.

I actually came across the same thing a lot while working at a state park; people would come up to me incensed that we allowed bobcats (yes, they would complain about the bobcats) and rattlesnakes in the park. Didn’t we know those things attacked people?

Pushing the idea that the state park staff needed to make sure *checks notes* animals were not present in their natural habitat in what was basically a nature preserve…well, yes, animal attacks do happen, and they can be dangerous or even deadly, but they usually happen for a specific reason. Humans are big, kinda weird animals, and there are not that many predators left that see us as prey (though they do exist). Hiking in some (some) parts of North America you’re a lot more likely to be attacked by a large herbivore like a moose than a large predator like a mountain lion (it’s still not that likely, but even so). Something like a rattlesnake isn’t going to going to attack you because it’s wired to kill.

The other side of this I’ll come across sometimes is that all animals are harmless, misunderstood puppies who want scritches. It’s maybe more common in the internet, but it bleeds over into real life sometimes. You get people trying to pet bears and bison. And I get it—we’re just human. We try to pack bond with everything and bears and the like really are just so damn fluffy.

But that’s really just the opposite end of the same misunderstanding. Barring an outlier in personality, wild animals aren’t murder machines, but they aren’t harmless, either. They’re just animals trying to live. Many animals—from insects and arthropods to big mammals—will attack if pressed by the right circumstances.

A prairie rattlesnake, for example, is rarely be actively aggressive. They’re shy, we’re large and more or less impossible for them to eat, biting us for no reason is a waste of energy—they rattle to get predators and larger animals to back off before they have to—and they’d just as soon leave us alone. That’s not the same thing as saying a prairie rattlesnake poses no danger; they do. Get in a rattlesnake’s face or step on it by accident, and it will bite you, because you’re a threat and it’s trying to stay alive.

I don’t know. Something something about not replacing the idea that wildlife is out for murder with the idea that wildlife is fully domesticated. Something about understanding, distance, and respect.

[britneyshakespeare]

throughout the series of drake and josh it pretty consistently implies that josh nichols is a christian (josh peck is jewish) and in the finale of the series helen (played by yvette nicole brown, not jewish[?]) is portrayed as a practicing jew

[hickeygender]

ok, so in more than blood, there's luke, leia, cal, boba pops in and out, a certain someone will temporarily bunk with the crew for long enough to get returned to their family, i've written a bit for ANOTHER character who joins up but doesn't swear the resol'nare, and i just now had a BIGBRAIN idea that will make the crew feel more balanced and add some compelling conflict. that said, i genuinely do NOT know how i'm gonna fit five permanent residents plus obi-wan and cody for a total of seven, AND two temporary residents (boba and the other character). also, the bigbrain idea i had would require me to engage with a mid piece of media that i have zero interest in besides this one character in order to get a grasp of their motivations, even if i'll greatly alter the direction their life takes as an adult.

truly idk how many fuckin traumatized children i can fit on this goddamned ship and it's beginning to feel crowded and like i'll be juggling far too many characters to do them all justice. luke, leia, and cal are non-negotiable crew members, and i'm leaning towards the character i just had a breakthrough about becoming a permanent fixture. boba is like an honorary member i think at this point, bc he's quite independent, and the temporary member will only appear briefly, but the one who doesn't swear the resol'nare i'm beginning to think i should leave to their canon storyline to avoid character overload, and perhaps switch the concept of them not swearing the tenants to the new character that i'm really considering bc i think the decision to not convert could thematically fit either of them.

i am AWARE this is vague as hell bc i don't want anyone to get their hopes up about certain characters appearing and then just not doing that. the more i think it through via writing this post, the more i'm leaning towards removing that one character i originally had not swearing the tenants bc dear god it's getting comedic how many strays the tanos are acquiring at this point 💀 four feels more manageable than five, especially bc luke and leia aren't even talking during this fic even tho i do try and give them some personality. so, two young characters and the main pairing feels doable, i guess? i'm feeling less overwhelmed now that i've typed this up but still a bit clownish when considering how ambitious this stupid fic is 😭

[little-shiny-sharpies]

*through gritted teeth* don’t trust how you feel about your life after 9 pm or during your monthly hell, don’t trust how you feel about your life after 9 pm or during your-

[unproduciblesmackdown]

today days old faun/fauna same etymology (equivalent to pan roman god faunus &/or fauna)

[darkclouud9]

is 6.5k words for a oneshot too many /silly

it's not even done yet. do you think it'll hit 10k. sighhhhhh

[fierykitten2]

Sometime two years ago (I specifically remember it was so early on in the SV hype cycle we didn’t know Paldea’s name yet. So basically anytime in the first two thirds) I made a post where I assigned starters to the trio I refer to as “the Afterthoughts” (Falcon, Samus and Fox. I call them that because Nintendo doesn’t seem to like their sci-fi series much. Metroid’s an exception now but it’s had some problems with it in the past too). Now, I want to assign starters to the characters I ship them with the most - Robert, Madeline and Falco for the sake of this post I’m gonna pretend I prefer SamusxMadeline to FalconxSamus. There are some patterns again I’ve unintentionally fallen into - Falco almost always has the same starter as Falcon even in regions without a birb start, Madeline frequently has the same starter as Samus and Robert… well I guess he tends to default to Fox’s starter but I’m not really noticing when that happens as much as I am with the other two (I am slowly noticing every time I fall into that trap). Also I could have waited an extra few months so that I could make sure to assign them starters in a way so that they each get a Z-A starter like how I’m doing for both trios with the Hisui starter trio but I came up with the idea today so I’m doing it today

Kanto:

Robert gets Bulbasaur

Madeline gets Squirtle

Falco is left with Charmander

Johto:

For some reason I’m really tempted to give Robert Cyndaquil (this has nothing to do with their eyes I just think until it evolves Cyndaquil gives off some kind of Fennekin vibes and there’s no way I’m missing the opportunity to pair the guy who owns the Golden Fox with a starter that reminds me of Fennekin)

Madeline gets Chikorita

Falco is left with Totodile (I swear I’m not always saving him til last)

Hoenn:

Falco has to have Torchic

The other two are hard to pair up but I think Madeline only just works better with Mudkip than any of the other three possible pairs

Robert ends up with Treecko. This annoys me because this is who I paired Falcon up with (for reference he does end up with Blaziken it’s just I decided there would be a whole trade thing going on in Hoenn after they’ve all had the chance to fully-evolve their starters). The strange thing is, this is the only pair in Hoenn that annoys me for that reason despite all of them having the same starter as their partners pre-trade (Samus starts with Mudkip and ends up with Sceptile while Madeline gets Mudkip, Fox starts with Torchic and ends up with Swampert while Falco gets Torchic, Falcon starts with Treecko and ends up with Blaziken while Robert gets Treecko)

Sinnoh:

Falco gets Piplup

I just think Robert makes most sense with Turtwig out of all the Sinnoh starters (even Piplup)

Madeline is left with Chimchar. I hate it too but someone has to have that ugly monkey

Unova:

Robert and Snivy

This is mainly because I worked out the other two Hisui starters first but Madeline gets Oshawott

Falco is left with Tepig. I don’t understand this pairing either

Kalos:

Robert has Fennekin. There is no way he doesn’t get Fennekin

I guess Madeline and Chespin makes sense. Why not

Falco is once again left with the starter I paired up with Falcon - Froakie

Alola:

Falco and Rowlet (this one was obvious bc birb but can I please pair him up with a starter that I haven’t paired Falcon with)

Somehow I just think Madeline most makes sense with Primarina so she gets Popplio. She’s either nicknaming it Melissa or Samus even though it’s most likely male

This leaves Robert with Litten. Given out of the three of them he matches Incineroar’s build most… idk what to say about that I just wanted to point that out

Galar:

I’ll be honest this one was the hardest to pair up. Robert and Madeline both seem like they’d be sympathetic enough to choose Sobble but in the end I decided to pair Robert with Sobble

Madeline gets Grookey

Falco finally doesn’t share a starter with Falcon as he gets Scorbunny instead (genuinely this is the only region he doesn’t share with Falcon. No one shares with their partner in this region bc they all get the starter weak to their partner’s choice. Also somehow I forgot that my ships and who seems to align most starter-wise is not the same for the blue birbs and gold foxes so I accidentally ignored how both Robert and Fox have ended up with Sobble)

Paldea:

Falco once again shares a starter with Falcon - Quaxly (good choice though. Not that I ever give them a bad choice the two worst starters belong to Samus/Madeline although I don’t like Totodile that much)

Robert and Sprigatito. It makes slightly less sense but I actually prefer pairing him up with Spriggie than I do pairing him up with Fennekin (few reasons: a) I prefer the Sprigatito line, b) it matches my insistence on Falcon having a Quaxly/Quaquaval, c) I tend to ignore Skeledirge’s existence while thinking about Meowscarada and Quaquaval and this just gives me an excuse to do that)

Madeline is left with Fuecoco. Once again, I hate that I have to do this but someone has to end up with the ugly croc

And then Hisui is Robert with Cyndaquil, Madeline with Oshawott and Falco with Rowlet

Yeah sure I can count up just how many times Robert shares with Fox, Madeline shares with Samus and Falco shares with Falcon:

Robert shares five six out of eleven (I’m gonna count Hisui separately and I’m counting Hoenn twice) with Fox - Bulbasaur, Turtwig, Fennekin, Litten, Sobble and Sprigatito

Madeline shares six out of eleven with Samus - Squirtle, Mudkip (pre-trade), Chimchar, Chespin, Popplio and Fuecoco

Falco shares nine out of eleven with Falcon - Charmander, Totodile, Blaziken (post-trade), Piplup, Tepig, Froakie, Rowlet, Rowlet again and Quaxly

[coridallasmultipass]

i love how much you talk in tags. i love reading your words and how you talk and what about. might sound strange but its true. i like your mouth words dawg.

Technically, they're finger words.

[valwrote]

PICK YOUR DOMESTIC HUSBAND 🛒

WHICH HUSBAND IS ON THE DOMESTICITY MENU TODAY?

featuring: diluc, alhaitham, zhongli, wriothesley, neuvillette.

synopsis: glimpses into married life with the genshin men.

warnings: implied fem!reader, occasional pet names, ooc (I have a sparse idea how diluc works, mention of "activities" (just mention I can't write smut pls), silly goofy ah loser coded men, mild swearing (damn, heck)

a/n: *stretching my back and crunching my neck.* I'm back from the dead. apologies for the choppy writing. thanks for the support on the other posts, if only I could write 50-page essays thanking everyone. <33 :')) not proofread.

DILUC 🍷

PRODUCT NAME: BREAKFAST AND KISSES IN BED. Diluc always hated the Knights of Favonius… 

He hated how most of them just stand around like buffoons and do not partake in any actual work that involves saving Mondstadt. He wouldn’t admit that he enjoys playing Batman. He hated them all except for one.

One he was willing to forgive all flaws of. "Knight of Favonius…always so inefficient,”  He scoffed at the pathetic sight of the hilichurls trying to dry roast a few knights roped to a wooden stick for their dinner. “Seriously, You’re so right Master Diluc.” Diluc’s head turned so fast at the sound of a new voice. When did you get here? Were you always there and how did he not sense you around?

That’s simply how you always were. A hard worker amidst slackers – he always termed despite Jean trying to explain that others work hard too. Perhaps that’s what caught his attention, honestly, he would never know what did. “G’morning…” He murmured against your skin, head buried in the crook of your neck, your flushed bare back pressed against him. “5 more minutes…” he heard your soft and groggy voice evoking a chuckle from the usually passive man. “Have I ever told you…how beautiful you are?” Diluc muttered against your skin. You smiled and turned around, “You always do. I remember my Dark-Knight Hero crying at the altar.” You pressed a finger against his chest, while he scoffed at the memory. “Don’t remind me about that, Kaeya doesn’t let me live that down…” He sighed, his brother consistently brought up the matter of him crying whenever he was losing an argument. Foul play if you ask anyone. “So…breakfast downstairs or in the bed?” He planted a kiss on your cheek while you hummed out a response, “Bed, you didn’t exactly go easy on me the previous night.” You recalled the events of the passionate night the day before. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end. “I am so sorry–” He panicked,” You're not in pain are you? I promise I’ll be gentle– I knew I should’ve been more considerat–” You stopped him by pressing a kiss against his lips. He groaned at the feeling of your soft lips touching his hands tangling themselves in your hair.

“I’m kidding silly… you should stop taking things so seriously unless you want me to start searching for grey hairs amidst those red locks of yours.” You snickered out seeing him release a breath of relief.

If the Darknight Hero really does exist, he's probably just someone in disguise. When he gets up in the morning to brush his teeth, it's the real him. He was his real him in front of you. People may call him a loser for such vulnerability…he was a loser for you.

ALHAITHAM 🌱

PRODUCT NAME: READING BOOKS OUT LOUD. One would say married to someone like Alhaitham was nothing short of a nightmare. They weren't 100% right. Shrouded beneath the aloof and meticulous personality resided someone who was in complete denial towards being loved. He loves it.

Who was he kidding? Nobody in a million years thought someone could put up with his insufferable personality — said Kaveh, his unpaying tenant. That was until he ran into you during his time as the newly appointed Scribe. You were like a painter, splashing heaps of paint in his 90s black-and-white life. Was eating ice cream always this enjoyable or was it because it was with you? Was the gossip between co-workers always this interesting or was it because it included you?

Why was his heart having an entire Queen’s rock and roll concert talking to you? Was it cardiac arrest or– He almost shuddered at the thought of it being what they called love.

“You’ve got flour on your face, sweetheart.” His teal eyes blinked amusingly into yours, a faint smile curling up his lips. You must have saved a nation in your previous life to land this man as your husband. Beige shirt perfectly sculpting around his abs – contrary to him calling himself “feeble,” hair slightly tousled and slight sleepiness in his eyes. He might not act like it but he was a little child whose needs had to be tended to like the coffee mug in his hands which you made, like usual. You wouldn’t want a cranky Alhaitham now, would you? “Hmpf, not my fault, this cooking book is completely bogus!” You rubbed your cheeks with the back of your hand, wiping away any remaining flour. “This is so boring…if only someone could provide their poor wife with some entertainment.” You always resorted to theatrics to get him to do things for you, albeit begrudgingly. “No, the same tactic is not going to work again.” “Please…” “No…” He groaned, tone almost pleading not to put him through the torture again. “During better or worse!” You resorted to the ace up to your sleeve. WEDDING VOWS! “Stop quoting the wedding vows.” He sighed in defeat. The most intellectually gifted man in the nation couldn't win against his own wife. Ironical. He got up and grabbed a book out of the bookshelf; a small fraction of his much larger library.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Alhaitham lazily flipped through the pages earning a rebuke. “More emotion! You are ruining the scene.” Alhaitham sighed and cleared his throat, “I love you most ardently…” His tone was feathery soft, emotion surging in it. A smile crept up as he stared at you endearingly.

“That’s much better. Though I seriously think Mr Darcy should’ve said– Miss Elizabeth, allow me to kiseth thy lovely lips.” You mimicked the deep voice of the character with the failing British accent. “Please have mercy on Jane Austen’s ghost and let her enjoy the afterlife.” Alhaitham chuckled and continued reading as you continued baking.  It was a shame that a man of such talent only paid attention to the truth itself and not to the people around him. If only the searching eyes of the ordinary say the exception to his indifference, you.

This was your biosphere, just you, him, novels and food encapsulated inside your small home.

ZHONGLI 🪨

PRODUCT NAME: ALWAYS ON HIS MIND. What is the best but the most useless flex you have? Being married to the Geo Archon. The inability to just tell the whole world that you are married to the frigging god was painful. You yourself were surprised by your ability to control yourself. Zhongli was a man of carefully curated words. Instead of words, straight-up poetry flew out of his mouth. Everyone knew how much he adored his wife, every vendor, every acquaintance, heck even Venti. Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's mysterious consultant. Handsome, elegant, and surpassingly learned. Excellent memory. A master of courtesy and rules. The amount of poor women who have tried to grab his attention. "Mr.Zhongli, how does this look?" the woman, who he remembered meeting over a history discussion 17 days ago. "Hm?" his amber eyes shifted to gaze at the hairpiece the lady was holding. "Most exquisite.." He remarked, seemingly going into deep thought. Instead of a compliment, he said something that made the woman back away, "Such beautiful craftsmanship...may I ask you to tell me where you found this? I wish to buy one for my wife–" he paused, seeing the lady vanished after pointing at the shop where she got it from. "Zhongli, you should be able to tell why people approach you..." Hutao sighed, standing beside the rather oblivious gentleman. "Let's just continue...we've got customers to find!" Hutao started walking alongside the railing, hoping to find people in need of funeral services. "Maybe we should go and ask peopl– Zhongli??" Hutao looked around for the Consultant, who was caught up chatting with a shopkeeper over some earrings. "Zhongli!" Hutao called out to him, causing his head to turn towards the director. "Oh, apologies...It seems I got too carried away. These earrings caught my eye...I'm sure [Name} would love them.." he mumbled, staring at the jewellery. "I'll take them." "Mister Zhongli? What about the payment..." The shopkeeper meekly asked, causing Zhongli to turn his head fully at Hutao; gazing expectantly. Hutao should've expected this... "Zhongli, we are out here to find customers! Not buying gifts for [Name], her birthday is months away!" "They say the best things should be done first. After all, why must I wait for one specific day to express my love for my beloved?" Zhongli asked curiously and Hutao shaked her head; love was clearly out of her expertise. Zhongli, he is particular about everything. He only attended the best operas and focused on the perfect ratio for the creation of an authentic dish.  On a typical day, all you will glean from him is a few pieces of useless trivia, because he particularly enjoys sharing these fun tidbits with you. He was particular about you and your likings. A smile on your face was what he wanted by the end of the day. For being someone alive for 6000 years, he could proudly say that he loved and cherished something– someone.

"Wait here, Director Hu...Perhaps I should get those flowers over there to accompany the hairpin and earrings..."

WRIOTHESLEY 🐺

PRODUCT NAME: BATTLE TO BUY A DOG OR NOT.

"Wriothesley, I want a dog!" You crossed your arms, staring down at the Duke who was glued to the chair in his office. “But why? That’s just unnecessary responsibility…” Wriothesley sighed, rubbing his temples. This was the 3rd time this month you’ve brought up this topic. Was he that incompetent in terms of filling his role as your significant other? Perhaps not with the never-ending paperwork. Oh, how he wished people would just stop committing crimes. “I get lonely in the Fortress…I want a child.” You put forth your point by using the term ’ child’. Child, dog same thing. You hoped to finally convince him this time.

“We have Sigewinne.” Wriothesley pointed at the head nurse prepping tea in the room with the back of his pen. “I am sorry, Your Grace but playing the role of the child is out of my job description.” The Melusine replied indifferently, pouring freshly seeped tea into the three cups. “Fine, we will go get one…I’ll schedule a meeting with the owner of the pet shelter. Happy?” He asked you, chin resting on his palm. Perhaps getting a dog was a good idea as he was guilty of being unable to spend quality time with you… “No way…” “Isn’t that..?” “The Duke of the Meropide–” “He rarely appears in public..” Wriothesley held out the door to the shelter for you, hoping you would go in and it would finally save him from the gaze of curious onlookers. The two of you walked in, only to be pounced upon by a big dog. “Kal! You sly dog! I knew I shouldn’t have let you out!” The caretaker yelled at the big ball of black fur who had tackled Wriothesley to the floor and was aggressively licking his face, tail wagging in delight. “Are you okay?” You asked your fallen husband, who just chuckled in response. “I am good just– Okay stop! I understand your gesture of love.” Wriothesley got up as the dog encircled him. “This one is so adorable…” you gasped at the cuteness radiating from the dog and its big brown eyes. “You’ve got a keen eye! This is Kal, Shiloh Shepard, one of the finest dogs out there.” The caretaker combed her fingers through the thick and groomed black coat of the canine. “He seems to have taken a liking to the Duke.” The caretaker continued as the dog ran back to Wriothesley, peppering his face with licks. “He even looks like you.” You teased as Wriothesley stared at you in disbelief. You did not just compare him to a dog…he even did a double take at the dog to confirm. “We will take this one then…” He chuckled in amusement. Never had he imagined marrying you and on top of that getting a four-legged beast. Needless to say, Wriothesley proudly walked out of the shelter, holding the big dog in his hands like a child. It felt complete ever since getting Kal; like your own little family. Wriothesley wouldn’t admit it but he loved the dog, despite it hogging all of your love and attention. He didn’t expect to be fighting over cuddling rights with a dog!? 

He watched you and Kal sleep peacefully on the couch, keeping him company while he finished up his work. He felt a sense of gratitude…people of the Fortress knew little of the crime he once committed. The only one who still remembers it like yesterday is Wriothesley himself. And no matter how much glory or repute he has earned, he still considers himself to be the same old Wriothesley he's always known.Neither a good person nor a complete villain. He's just another soul, still living on in this world. However, your eyes always reassured him in ways he couldn’t describe. Everything was perfect…

[Name]!! YOURDAMN DOG PISSED ON MY COAT!! Maybe not that perfect…whoops.

NEUVILLETTE 🌊

PRODUCT NAME: HELPING THE OTHER DRESS.

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Iudex of Fontaine, always wondered how his life had come to this. 500 years of serving his position as the Beacon of Justice, a lovely, beaming baker somehow broke the monotony. Well, calling you just a baker was now an insult. With your ring finger bejewelled, with one of the rarest gems– an ode to his undying loyalty and representation of his eternal love. “It’s astounding how a covert mission conducted by melusines could’ve landed someone such as myself a lady like her…” He muttered to himself, seeing his full form in the mirror. “Talking to yourself, again?” You leaned against the door frame, lopsidedly smiling at the peculiar antics of Fontaine’s most distinguished man. “Ah, apologies…I didn’t think you would notice me conversing with myself. Now I find myself in a rather awkward predicament.” He chuckled. Dear god, this man was so beautiful that his beauty was almost blinding with the morning sun perfectly hitting his face.

“Say ah,” You requested and he complied. Who better to take constructive criticism from other than your husband? “New filling?” He covered his mouth while chewing on the croissant. “Yup, how is it? I was experimenting with some Rainbow Roses and these Inazuman berries I bought.” You blinked curiously, waiting for some input. “Hmm it is very pleasant, it is fascinating how you manage to maintain the freshness of the fruit…” You smiled at his compliment, before noticing him struggling with the jabot around his neck. “Need help?” You offered and he nodded his head. “This is absurd..it usually isn’t this difficult.” He frustrated replied, it was amusing to see the cool and collected man all worked up about clothing. “I suggest simplifying your outfit.” You attached the jabot and secured it in with the teardrop brooch, fixing the ruffles. 

“Thank you. I do prefer my outfit as it conveys the message I wish for it to convey.” He explained before staring at you. You knew that look, he looked at you with his eyebrows slightly creased when he was hesitating from saying something. “What is it?” “Do I get a goodbye kiss before I leave?” “Pfft! I didn’t think you would take that seriously!” Conclusion: this man was wayyy to cute.

Neuvillette is a solitary person. Neuvillette is not known for his personal desires.

He was deemed as someone with unassailable impartiality. If only they knew that perhaps the Iudex was just a wee bit biased.

a/n 2.0: the crust will come off...hopefully. i wonder if it's possible to guess which one of them is my favourite??

don't steal, copy, plagiarise, or translate.

©definitelysel

[but-a-humble-selfshipper]

I find it kinda funny kinda silly how there's some places where I let L.L. be but I just... Can't list the characters they interact with as f/o's of ant kind bc their relationship is just... Kinda, nonexistent? Like there sure is something but it's far too complicated to treat it like one of my casual partners.

[leafyeyes417]

To soothe myself from my last post where it’s non-Joker hate *shudders* here have this.

————————————————————————

The first three months of Danny’s stay in Gotham had been mostly quiet. No big Rogue attacks since most of them were in Arkham. Unfortunately that had come to an end. There was a mass breakout and among them was the Joker.

Danny had made friends with a couple people, during his classes, and had met his new crush Tim at a coffee shop. He was actually with Tim when they got the news about the breakout. They had been walking out to Tim’s car so he could be driven home when it happened.

Tim’s POV

He had been talking with Danny when he saw him shudder and stop walking.

He frowned, turning towards him. “Danny? What’s wrong?” He watched as Danny paled, full body twitched, then his eyes turned a glowing red that took over his entire eyes. He snarled, face almost inhuman as he turned and booked it down the street at inhuman speeds (though nowhere near Flash speed).

Scrambling Tim jumped in his car and chased after Danny, though he quickly lost him. He grabbed his com and turned it on. “Oracle, I need you to track someone.” He quickly rattled out along with the street information and Danny’s description.

“Red Robin, report.” Batman growled out.

“I was walking with my friend back to my car after we heard the news of the breakout. On the way there he froze and then… I’m not quite sure but whatever it was I don’t think he was in control anymore.”

There was silence for a few moments on the coms. Oracle spoke, “I think I found his location. The cameras are fritzing out big time in a decent area near your location.”

When he managed to get there he was honestly a little sickened. There was body parts and blood everywhere. Joker goons, from the occasional mask lying around. Swallowing he ventured deeper into the zone, having to turn off his coms due to the screeching interference.

When he finally set his eyes on Danny it was to see him arm deep into the Joker’s chest. He paused, watching as the Joker’s body fell to the floor, his heart still in Danny’s hand. He watched as Danny’s eyes stopped glowing red and he swayed, dropping the heart to bring a hand to his head.

“Danny?” He asked hesitantly.

Danny turned, a hazy expression on his face. “Tim?” He slurred out.

Quickly making his way over he managed to prevent Danny from toppling over, grimacing at the blood now coating his hand. He noticed the other bats and birds arriving on scene out of the corner of his eye, but stayed focused on Danny. “Let’s get you out of here.” He said gently as he guided Danny out of the area.

Later, after he had managed to get Danny some water and a bit of food, he asked, “Do you remember what happened, Danny?” His friend looked down at his blood covered hands. “I remember walking to your car when it was like I was being grabbed by a bunch of hands and I couldn’t move. Then… it almost felt like I was being stuffed into a box or something and everything was hazy and indistinct after that. I tried fighting it but it like catching smoke. Then I was being released but it was like I had no energy. I know you called my name but I don’t recall much until after you gave me the energy bar.”

Tim frowned, glancing at Black Bat. He saw her sign “true” and nodded. Looks like they might have to call the JLD on this one.

[nyoomfruits]

@mecachrome posted a thing about fennec fox lando and it gave me the brain wigglies so!!! here we are lmao

There’s some kind of cat in Oscar’s drivers room. It’s small and white, with giant ears and a pointy snout, and curled up in a little ball on top of Oscar’s discarded ‘Good Times’ hoodie. Oscar raises an eyebrow at it, tries to remember if he missed some kind of memo about service pets or something.

He must make some kind of noise, because the cat-something suddenly cracks open an eye and lets out a panicked screech noise when he spots Oscar, jumping up and beelining for the door, knocking over three water bottles and an entire side table in the process before disappearing into Lando’s driver’s room across the hallway, leaving a bewidlred Oscar behind in his own upturned driver's room.

And that, more or less, is how Oscar finds out his new teammate can shapeshift into a fennec fox.

--

Kim’s eyeing Oscar warily when he makes his way into McLaren hospitality that morning. “Uhm,” he says, eyes flicking down to the obvious bulge in Oscar’s hoodie pocket.

“Don’t ask,” Oscar says. “He’s refusing to get out of there.”

Lando chooses that exact moment to poke his pointy little snout out of the pocket, and blearily glares at Kim before tucking himself back in. He’s had this strange obsession with Oscar’s hoodies that Oscar’s long since given up trying to figure out. Nowadays he just accepts all his clothes are perpetually covered in white hair and that he sometimes ends up playing Taxi Piastri all weekend, especially when Lando’s having a bit of a rough one.

Which he’s been having a lot of, with the whole championship thing.

“Do I, uh. Does he want breakfast too?” Kim asks, still eyeing Oscar’s hoodie as Oscar sits down on the chair across from him.

Oscar shrugs. “Lando? Breakfast?”

His hoodie lets out a pitiful squeak. “Just a chicken wrap, if they have it,” Oscar translates.

“Right,” Kim says, and with one last wary look, makes himself scarce. Inside Oscar’s hoodie pocket, Lando lets out a content little noise, and snuggles ever so closer to Oscar’s abdomen.

--

There’s two giant ears poking out of Oscar’s suitcase. He squints at them as he walks into his hotel room. “How did you even get in here?” He asks, as he shucks of his McLaren branded hoodie and throws it in the direction of the suitcase. A singular paw emerges from the mess and drags the hoodie closer, so the ears are now covered.

“Just because I can see you doesn’t mean you’re not there,” Oscar says, shaking his head fondly as he flops down on the bed. “Also don’t think being cute will get you out of explaining how on earth you got into my hotel room.”

His suitcase squeaks. Oscar rolls his eyes and turns on something on the TV, propping the pillows of his bed up and settling in against them.

When he startles awake, roughly two hours later, he has a bundle of happily purring fennec fox curled up in his arms.

--

Lando has the zoomies. Oscar can hear, through the thin wall of his driver’s room, the telltale patter patter patter of Lando’s paws, the occasional crashing sound when he knocks something off something. Oscar sighs, hoists himself off the couch, goes to see what’s going on.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks, leaning against the doorway as fennec fox Lando zooms over the couch and faults over the massage table. “Come on, bud. You can’t go into the car like this.”

That seems to do the trick. Unfortunately fox Lando decides to change back into human Lando halfway his jump towards the closet, and so he ends up flinging himself bodily into it. Oscar rushes forward and only just manages to catch him when he stumbles back. “Careful,” he says, softly, looking down into Lando’s greenbluegrey eyes as Lando smiles a little bashfully at him.

“My hero,” Lando says, bites at his lip.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Oscar asks.

Lando rights himself, steps away from Oscar’s arms. Oscar tries not to be too sad about that. “I, uh. It’s kind of. It’s stupid?”

“Okay?” Oscar asks, trying to sound as non-judging as possible. “You can still share.”

“Right. Uh. Hey, so. Remember how like. I love your hoodies?”

Oscar snorts. “Vaguely,” he says.

“Well, okay, turns out I uh. Also love. You.” Lando stares at him with those big eyes, hopping from foot to foot.

“Me,” Oscar parrots.

“You,” Lando says. “So, uh. That.”

“Ah,” Oscar says. “You know, that does like. Explain a lot.”

“Does it?” Lando asks, chewing on his hoodie string now. Actually, on further inspection, it’s totally Oscar’s hoodie.

“It really does,” Oscar says. And then, because it’s rude to keep someone waiting, kisses Lando square on the mouth.

Lando, clearly surprised by the move, squeaks, and promptly turns back into his fox form.

Right. Okay. That’s going to need some work, probably. But that’s fine. Oscar’s got time. Their whole lives, if Lando lets him. For now, he’s content with kissing the little fox between his giant ears, and trying not to laugh too hard when it turns back into a very disgruntled yet slightly embarrassed looking Lando.

[milksnake-tea]

━━ to walk amongst the living .

Jade's last words continue to haunt Sunday as he is cast from the heaven of Penacony and goes from a Family Head to a mere traveler. On his journey to fully understand the struggles of mortals, he ends up becoming companions with you, a fellow wanderer.

sunday x gn!reader

contains: post 2.3, written before 2.7, sunday is hinted to have asthma, sunday is trying his best but bro hasn't touched grass in years so he's struggling, hardcore yearning from sunday

word count: 3.1k

a/n: SUNDAY TRAVEL SUNDAY TRAVEL SUNDAY TRAVEL SUNDAY TRAVEL BARKSI RIYGHGUGHU if hyv doesnt give us any crumbs on what he was doing before he runs into us again. EXPLODES

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo , @moineauz

“Achoo!“

The cold was starting to get annoying.

Sunday sighed, biting back his frustration as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief and tugged his scarf to better shield his face. It was a good thing he’d decided to bundle up before leaving Penacony; otherwise, he would’ve already died of pneumonia.

The Planet of Dreams and Festivities was the very definition of a paradise. Everything, from the colors, the sounds, and the temperature was carefully maintained to never be too much or too little.

Sunday did not have such privileges here.

He didn’t remember when the last time he saw snow was. Back home, the closest he’d seen to a natural landscape was the Moment of Oasis, where tourists lounged about on the spectacular beaches - and even then, Sunday hadn’t exactly had time to indulge in such luxuries.

His nose was no doubt red from the cold, and his thighs burned from the long hike he’d decided to torture himself with. Wind battered his hood against his face, occasionally blocking his vision or smacking him. Sunday’s wings instinctively shielded him from the incoming snow that somehow made its way past his hood. He grimaced at the feeling of the ice catching and melting on his feathers, already dreading having to clean them out.

Upon reaching a somewhat flat piece of terrain, he gave himself mercy and allowed himself to stop for a break. His halo, his main weapon against frostbite, glowed gently with a heat not unlike a fireplace as he surveyed just how far he’d traveled.

Mountains upon mountains greeted his gaze, all jagged and covered with the same multi-colored snow that was the staple of this planet. He stood among fallen aurora, and down below, he spied a cluster of bright, warm lights that stood apart from the greens, blues, and purples of the snow: the cities, where he’d first arrived here.

Zastrugi was a planet infamous for its harsh conditions, rivaled only by the recently reintroduced Jarilo-VI. Even so, the people here prided themselves on their resilience, and gladly welcomed those seeking a challenge or a death-defying thrill.

In other words, it was a cemetery of the arrogant and the ambitious, and a perfect fit for Sunday’s current goals. After all, what better way to live a mortal’s life than to endure their struggles?

Sunday looked down at himself. His legs were weak, shaking and trembling from the hike, and no doubt were only kept standing due to adrenaline. His chest burned from haggard breaths, cut again and again from each frosty inhale. His head felt light. He wanted to die.

If this wasn’t suffering, he didn’t know what was.

It was invigorating.

Never before had he felt more alive, with the frost biting at his cheeks and the pain that ransacked his body. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, fighting yet strong and resilient and surviving. A soft smile graced his pale lips as his breath fogged in the air.

How strange, he mused. To find such joy in his own suffering… Was he always this twisted?

“I was wondering when you’d catch up.”

Sunday turned to see you sitting on a rock nearby, snow brushed off of stone so that you could sit without wetting your pants. One of your legs is propped up as you look out at the view, your bored expression proof enough that you’d been sitting there for a while.

You were a fellow traveler he’d met sometime on his travels. Sunday still groaned whenever he remembered your first encounter; he’d gotten swept up in a sudden storm and remembered too late that 1.) he didn’t know how to swim and 2.) his wings were not waterproof. Had you not dove into the raging tide and pulled him out, he would’ve drowned for sure.

Ever since then, you’d accompanied him on his travels - or, rather, he accompanied you on yours. Sunday, with what little he knew of the world outside of Penacony, knew not what his destination was, nor where he should head off to. Your goal was a little more simple - you wanted to see all that was beautiful in the universe.

Even if that meant climbing to the tops of unreasonably steep mountains or camping out in unbearingly hot deserts.

Thankfully, you weren’t opposed to his offer (begging) to join you - on the contrary, you were thankful that he had been the one to say it because in your words, you didn’t know if he would survive if you left him alone by his lonesome.

He still didn’t know what to make of that. For his own pride, he chose to ignore it for the time being.

“Were you waiting long?” he asked, gloved fingers holding the edge of his hood as to keep both it and the snow out of his face. You shook your head, your own hooded cloak flapping in the wind as you looked back out at the view.

“Not as long as I might’ve in the past,” you joked lightly. Sunday breathed a laugh.

Back when he’d first walked alongside you, he’d fought a long and hard battle with his own stamina. It was embarrassing when he thought back on it, how many times he’d have to ask you to stop for a break or even had to be carried by you to the nearest rest stop. Sometimes he wondered why you kept him around, but of course, he never asked.

But he’d grown stronger and more resilient since then, at least, he hoped he did - if not for you, then for his pride.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Your voice was rather wistful as you spoke, a little breathless and hushed, yet clear in the crisp, scarce air. “What do you think? Was it worth it?”

“I’m not so sure,” Sunday tried for a joke of his own - although, he wasn’t all joking. No matter how much he traveled, he could never get used to the feeling of his own breath scraping against his lungs as he heaved for air.

You, intuitive as ever, sighed knowingly. “Sit down. You look as if you’re going to pass out.”

Brushing aside some snow on the rock, you shifted over to make room for him. Gratefully, Sunday fought demons in order to stop his trembling legs from collapsing in from under him as he lowered himself onto the rock. That would’ve been mortifying.

His breath fogged in the air as he sighed, thankful for some rest. Around him, the snowfall was gentle and slow, and as the moonlight from Zastrugi’s two moons caught on each individual flake, ribbons of light came and passed like wisps of smoke.

An echoing click of metal caught his attention. He looked to his side and was greeted with a cloud of steam warming his face. In your hand was a small metal thermos that held what he assumed is either tea or hot water. You gestured for him to take it.

“Drink; you need to warm up before we continue. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died of hypothermia.”

Sunday breathed his gratitude as he took the thermos. Your fingers brushed slightly, but with the cold, he registered it only after it was gone, and by then it was too late to respond. Still, his heart skipped regardless, and he turned away before he dwaddled too long, thankful for the cold that had already reddened his cheeks.

He blew gently on the liquid within, and took small, careful sips as to not burn his tongue (it’d happened before, and it was humiliating). He was delightfully surprised with the subtle floral tastes of white tea, his favorite. It was obvious that it had been sweetened, and the honey added was just enough so that it satisfied his cravings.

But, as Sunday drank away, the tea warming him from the inside, he thought to himself - he never told you he liked white tea specifically, nor did he ever tell you how much sugar he preferred. How did you know?

Had you, every time you’d taken him to a local cafe or restaurant, watched and observed? Had you remembered, from the few times you’d seen him order or make a drink for himself?

His hold on the thermos faltered as fire rushed to his cheeks. In his chest, under all those layers of cloth and cloaks, a dance unfolded, his heart tip-tapping away, a steady rhythm that was both nerve-wrecking and comforting.

Sunday inhaled deeply, wings fluttering ever-so slightly, and pushed his thoughts away to focus on the tea, nearly burning his tongue in the process. You only raised a brow before returning your sight to the distant city. A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you.

As Sunday gazed down upon the scene, a sharp ache in his sides and a stiffness in his legs, he wondered - was this how Robin felt, when she performed from that grand stage of hers. Sure, the aurora couldn’t compare to the lightshow that accompanied his sister’s concerts, but still - there must be some similarities. Here, at the top of this world, he felt light, as if nothing could ever touch him.

“O chosen one, who dared to exceed his bounds. Sever your wings, descend to the mortal realm, and walk their lands. See what this world is truly like.”

Lady Bonajade’s words rang in his head. Instantly a scowl twisted his features.

He’d never liked the IPC, and he wasn’t going to start now - especially not with a snake like her. He could still hear her taunting voice, that indifferent condescention presented as good-natured pity dampening his mood. There wasn’t much that could truly anger him, but it only seemed natural that it was yet another IPC Stoneheart that managed the feat.

But still, she had been right… much to his chagrin. As much as he hated to admit it, he had flown too high from the people he wished to protect. Even the Astral Express - whom he respected far more than Jade - had made it clear: Know your people before you decide what was right for them.

“What’s on your mind?”

Sunday flinched. You peered at him from behind your hood, face gentle yet your brows were furrowed ever so slightly.

“Ah, I apologize.” He lowered the thermos to his lap. “I was… thinking.”

“I know,” you replied. Shifting slightly so that you could lean back on your hands, you stretched your legs out into the snow. “You do that a lot.”

With a kick, you sent the snow flying into an arch off the cliffside, creating another ripple in the aurora.

“Thinking too much in a place like this… seems like a waste, doesn’t it? Try and take a break from your brain, and just- see. Look at where you are.”

Sunday raised an abdominal wing to block the multi-colored snow from falling into his thermos. Shaking the snow off the twilight feathers, he sighed, staring into what remains of the tea.

You clicked your tongue. Snow crunched, and cloth shuffled, before the cap of the thermos blocked his view. Screwing it closed, you took the thermos from him, a twinge of annoyance tugging at Sunday as he mourned the last bits of tea still left in there.

Before Sunday could complain, however, you beat him to it.

“Don’t give me that look,” you teased lightly. “We’re almost to the top - you can finish your tea there.”

The beginnings of a pout tugged his lip, but with a reluctant sigh, Sunday abided. Pushing off of his knees, he brushed himself off.

“Very well,” he relented, but not without fixing you with a flat stare first. If you saw it, you didn’t say anything, for you had already begun your trek to the mountain’s peak.

The higher you climbed, the harsher the snow became. No matter how beautiful something was, Sunday found that he didn’t care if it was pelting him in the face with as much punch as a bullet. His hood became his shield, and he hurried to keep in pace with you.

Because unlike him, who specialized in Imaginary and Quantum manipulation, you were a master of fire. Your footprints lasted longer than his for the mere fact that you seemed to melt through the snow, and as long as Sunday kept close to you, he wouldn’t be at risk into becoming a popsicle.

But that was easier said than done. Again, you were far more traveled than he was, and as such you moved at a much faster pace despite the melting snow’s attempts at slowing you down. Sunday was already dreading the next morning - he’d have to do a full-body stretch for at least half an hour after this was all done if he wanted his legs to be functionable tomorrow.

Every now and then, you would glance back at him, as if making sure he hadn’t been swept up in an avalanche - which, if it weren’t unfortunately a valid concern, would’ve damaged his already ruined ego. And each time, Sunday would meet your gaze, and offer the tiniest of smiles before returning to his suffering.

By the time you had reached the summit, Sunday was well about to pass out. The air was thinner up here, making it hard to breathe, and his exhaustion did not make things easier. But he had done it, and surprisingly, he had kept in pace with you.

He breathed as much as he could, swallowing what little oxygen he could grasp from the top of the world. A wheeze or two ripped through his lungs. Wordlessly, you pressed his inhaler into his hand, a pat on his back to congratulate him. Sunday nodded his thanks.

Once his medication had done its magic and he no longer had to focus on the struggles of breathing properly, he realized that the world had gone silent. Snow no longer pelted at his face, and the aurora had gone dark.

And then he swept his gaze, and saw the clouds below him. Somehow, without noticing, he’d passed through them, and entered an entirely different plane of Zastrugi. Here, there was nothing but sky, and the stars - real, actual stars, not the false ones created by the snow, danced in nebulae above him.

And there was you, your cloak flapping in the wind as you gazed up at the cosmos. With so little light, he could only see your silhouette, but he has the impression that your back is turned towards him.

You are silent, as you always are when you see new sights. In moments like these, it was as if your breath had been stolen, and it is all you could do to absorb the picturesque scene before you, engraving it into your mind to store for all eternity.

Once, Sunday had expected you to take photos of your journeys, as a memento. But you never did. No, rather, you would stand there, memorizing every little detail, and then return to your temporary home to paint it instead.

And he swore, those paintings were almost always more magnificent than the places they were based on.

Sunday took one last look towards the everlasting cosmos before coming up to your side. Rather than the sky, the image he drank in was you. Your expression was soft, yet awe-struck, much like a child seeing the world for the first time. There was always a sort of melancholy in your eyes, but also a love for everything that he could drown in if you allowed him to.

You loved the world, and it was that love that he adored.

You turned to him, noticing his gaze, and for a moment, it was if time itself had stopped. His breath caught in his throat, and words died on his tongue. All he could do was look into your star-speckled gaze, all the colors of the universe casting their light onto the two of you.

What expression was he wearing, he wondered? A smile, or perhaps… something else?

But then you raised your hand, brushing it against his cheek ever so slightly, and all of those thoughts disappeared.

A smile wove onto your lips. “You had some snow left on you.”

Sunday tried not to miss your hand as it left him. His fingers trace what you had left, his gaze becoming lidded.

“Ah,” he breathed.

The corner of yours eyes crinkle, and you turned to the cliffside. Leaning over slightly, you peered over the edge, the clouds obscuring the true height of the fall. Sunday blinked.

“What are you planning…” he sighed, crossing his arms. You chuckled, turning slightly to meet his eyes.

“One way or another, we have to get down,” you pointed out. Sunday’s expression fell flat.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Your feet toed the edge, sending rocks and snow tumbling down. “You said you wanted to experience life as a mortal to the fullest, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t aware that included throwing oneself off a mountain.”

You shook your head, a grin surfacing. “You’re no fun, Sunday. Don’t you have those wings of yours? What do you have to worry about?”

Sunday’s answer was immediate. “You.”

“How sweet of you,” you commented as he came to besides you. “Well, then, you’ll just have to catch me, won’t you?”

Sunday squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “[Name], I swear upon all that is good in this world-”

He opened his eyes. You were already gone.

Sunday swore.

Midnight unfolded behind his back, clashing with his white cloak. Without so much as a second thought, he dove into the clouds headfirst, shooting through the sky like a meteor as he searched for you.

The second the fog of the clouds leave, however, he was thrust into a world of color. He fell alongside the snow, and unlike when he was on the mountain itself, he became a part of the aurora. The colors nearly blinded him, if not for the fact that he had his sights set on one thing - your falling figure, so close yet so far.

He tucked his wings as to fall faster. The second he reached you, he grabbed you, arms locking around your waist and pulling you into him, where it was safe.

“You’re a fool,” he scolded as your chest met his. You laughed, throwing your head back to return to the aurora.

“And yet, you saved me all the less.”

Sunday rolled his eyes as your legs wrapped around his waist. His wings returned to their full wingspan, catching the wind and ensuring that your fall didn’t end in a tragedy. He swerved and turned and glided, dodging peaks and keeping his sights on the city.

And all the same, you laughed, nothing short of pure glee in your voice.

And he sighed, fondness squeezing him regardless.

Yes, you were a fool.

But you were a fool he couldn’t help but love.

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