#and then days later i’ll remember that i had a vague idea for a post but the details are fuzzy and there’s nothing i can do to jog my memory

[laurrelise]

i have 62 tumblr drafts and half of them are umbrella academy thoughts i had while sleep deprived that i don’t know what to do with

[goldyashes]

helloooo everyone and happy opening!!

i’m velvet, today i’m here with my brand new muse kwon ahseop (stage name: ash) and i’m super excited to develop him here with everyone else’s muses!! he’s sodapop’s main dancer, lead rapper and center. and there’s a lot going on for him!

under the cut i’ll list some tidbits about him (because my profile page is still super barebones) and some plot ideas! please like this post if you’re interested in plotting and i’ll scurry over to your ims. i also have discord upon request and am a lot faster to reach over there.

what’s his deal?

he was born in daegu, south korea on october 15, 2000

tw alcoholism — his dad was a military man, holding incredibly toxic masculine values, while his mother was a washed-up unsuccessful artist who never made it to the stage. the two of them met in rehab for alcoholics — end tw

not wanting ahseop to grow up with wishy washy ideals and a vague dream to chase, his father sent ahseop to an extremely competitive boarding school where he was told to strive for the best

life in the boarding school wasn’t the best for ahseop, while he managed to keep up his grades enough to satisfy his father and achieve the highest rank in his class among his peers, that only made him a target of resentment. added with his resting bitchface and lack of expression, only isolated him further as his classmates believed he thought he was too good for any of them

music was his only reprieve, composing from a young age. his music teacher was the only person he felt he could talk to, not in any noble manner—but because the teacher saw potential in him

in highschool, he was scouted by a small company when he was busking at a park

against his father’s wishes, ahseop signed himself to the company. eventually dropping out of school when he was slated to debut because the schedules wouldn’t work with his boarding school

tw alcoholism — during this time, his parents got into a huge argument and his mother started relapsing badly. she was checked into rehab and the two of them officially divorced some time later, leaving ahseop to his father’s scrutiny, who also started drinking — end tw

unfortunately, the company he debuted under eventually went bankrupt and the group was disbanded, giving his father ample justification to shove ‘i told you so’ into his face

he started working a few jobs to keep himself busy and make something of himself, while his father hounded him to get his education back on track

however, as luck would have it, when ydh entertainment was holding auditions and he joined in because he had nothing else to lose—he got signed again, much to his father’s dismay

going up?

the lawsuits that ydh is dealing with didn’t exactly instill confidence, but ahseop has grown desperate with no other options, so he stays

he trained for two years, realizing that his creativity wouldn’t be properly used as ydh is more restrictive than he originally thought, especially when it comes to crafting an image for the public

during his training days, he heard whispers and was also directly criticized about how he needs to smile more in order to make it in this industry—that snapped something inside him, so he starts practicing how to smile in front of a mirror, forcing himself to be more of a moodmaker and jokester, at least within crowds

when he was chosen for debut, ahseop wasn’t sure how to feel about it. there were even more restrictions and a concept they must adhere to at all costs—and he’d be at the center of it all

still, despite the heavy burden and the parasocialism he’s forced to participate in, he wants to do some good. he remembers how he’s brought up, the horrors of boarding school, the mental health of kids like him—so he donates, but that ends up making him go viral

the rumours that he’s doing charity work to hide his bad behaviour had always existed, he thinks it’s because of his resting bitchface off camera, but the rumours worsened when he emotionally snapped at an ex group mate of his, raising his voice and saying things—there were no visual witnesses, but it happened

however, it hasn’t had a big toll on his reputation as a whole… it does feed more into the sasaengs attacks and hate comments though, gives them more ammo against ahseop, but his own fans are rather loyal

tw smoking & alcoholism — if it does get out that he smokes to deal with everything, and that he’s always a day away from picking up a bottle, it’ll probably ruin their image… but he can’t help it, really. at least when it comes to drinking, he still manages to hold off because he has seen what happens due to his parents — end tw

plot ideas!

to the other sodapop boys: if you trained as long as he did, you probably saw what he was actually like prior to everything! only to see him become kind of a Different Person. but if you trained a little while after he already made himself into a moodmaker persona, then maybe the days where he’s just staring up at the ceiling zoning out after holding a million fans’ hands is new to you

tw smoking — someone (whether in sodapop or not) who runs into him smoking and tells him that he should quit because it could ruin the group’s image especially because he’s the center, or someone who he can share a moment like this with. being real and genuine, for once! — end tw

someone he might have known from his time in the boarding school as the smart kid who left everything behind, most likely someone who still holds the belief that ahseop thinks he’s better than everyone, he never cared to dispel how people perceive him

i think a secret ex would be an interesting dynamic to explore during his trainee days… once he was slated for debut and the company’s restrictions became even more daunting, ahseop would have called it off no matter how he feels about it, timelines would have to fit though!

alternatively, a what-could-have-been person in ahseop’s life that he’d think about whenever his defenses are down, but it’s impossible to ever ruminate on now that he has debuted

someone who does believe the rumours that ahseop is just doing charity work to cover up his bad behaviour, and wants to call him out on it

coming from a strict family he never actually indulges in hobbies like gaming, reading and fandom culture… i want someone out there to introduce him to something nerdy, give him a reason to become invested in romcom manhwas and play things!!

anything you may have!! please share with me your ideas i’d be super excited to hear all about them!!

[justmeinatree]

06 - Made Of Something New : Sweden

Summary : you meet niall in your hotel bar. and there’s an intense connection.

previous part /// jump to pt. 1

TW : smut, choking, pussy spanking, slight dom/sub dynamics, sub reader & sub niall, cheating (not on you, but none the less)

Word Count : 6.5k

Series Masterlist

A/N : i’m so sorry this is a few days later than promised !! this chapter is almost purely smut, i hope it makes up for it ✌️

GIF : @horansqueen

February 13 - Stockholm, Sweden

*ding

*ding *ding 

*ding

“fuck,” you mutter to yourself, reaching for your phone. 4 messages from niall. that was strange, you thought to yourself. he’d never been the one to message you first.

hey petal

this is probably weird, but i saw that you were in sweden

how long are you going to be there ?

actually, when do you finish work ? and do you have time to meet up before your flight ?

you read over his messages, smiling to yourself. you had no idea he was in sweden, last he had posted, he was in the uk. he had been there since christmas break actually.

hi niall, are you in the country ? i have a flight out on the 14th. i finish work in the afternoon, the day before. will you still be here by then ? - x

-

i’ll be there xx

that’s all you got. that, and later he had sent you a hotel name, telling you he’d confirm the room number once he got there.

and that’s where you find yourself now, walking down the long hallway to room 213. 

you didn’t know what it was exactly. whether it was niall reaching out first. whether it was the vagueness of his messages. whether it was just a weird vibe you were able to pick up from him. but something felt different this time.

it’s been just under 3 months since italy. honestly you had missed niall terribly. he had spent the last few months at home, the holidays and all that. and now that his tour is done, he’s back to writing. so all in all, your arrangement seems to work quite nicely when you’re both traveling. 

but when you’re the only one catching flights, and none of them are landing in the uk, the arrangement kind of sucks. it’s hard to meet up. you wonder if niall can feel that too. if he can feel the longing that’s been clawing at your chest. in the last 6 months, you’d only seen each other twice.

in theory, that should help with the pit in your stomach. the longer you go without each other, the more you get used to being apart. but that was the furthest thing from your reality at the moment. the longer you spend away from each other, the more sluggish you seem. 

you spent your time wondering if he was okay. you remember a sort of heaviness in niall last time. you hope the break over the holidays has put the pep back into him. in your opinion, he’s severely over worked. you could never imagine being on the road, working, for basically the entire year. you’d rather do your head in.

you find yourself knocking at the door, hearing a shuffling coming from the other side, as niall gets closer. then there’s a click, and the door is swinging open.

and well no, the break doesn’t seem to have done him any good. his eyes are somehow heavier, a slight gloom that didn’t seem to be there when you first met him.

“niall,” you murmur, smiling at him, as his arms quickly wind around your waist, pulling you into a hug, the door shutting behind you.

his face is quickly buried in your neck, breathing you in, arms squeezed tightly around you, “missed you so much, petal.”

you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. but in the last 30 seconds, you’ve also, thankfully, watched his shoulders relax, his body un-tensing. 

niall’s teeth grip lightly into the oh so familiar chain around your neck, pulling away from you slowly, letting the necklace fall against your chest. his fingers dart out, running over the tiny intricate flower, “wearing this for me ?”

“for you ?” you question, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at him. “i haven’t taken it off since you put it on me.”

niall’s breath catches in his throat, because really ? you can’t be serious. he hasn’t seen anyone, never take off a piece of jewelry. even his mam used to take her wedding ring off to shower. 

he squeezes his eyes shut, not able to let himself think too much on anything. he’ll just depress himself more, and this is supposed to be a happy weekend. he pulls you to him, his lips crashing against yours in a needy kiss. 

you wrap your arms around niall’s neck, getting on your tiptoes to reach better, kissing him back like your life depended on it. you were both relieved and saddened, seeing him. relieved because fuck, here he is. it’s been so fuckin long and here he is. but sad because you know he’s sad. you know something’s wrong. you want to help.

but that entire thought process seems to have disappeared in an instant as you felt his mouth on yours. he had a way of doing that for you. everything disappeared when you were with niall. you love it. and you can’t imagine how much more amazing that must feel for him. 

“want you, niall,” you whisper against his lips, one hand gripping into his hair. “please, v’missed you so much.”

niall groans, fingers digging hard into the swell of your ass, “haven’t even seen the room yet,” he hums, mouth still attached to yours.

“later,” you whine softly, hips rolling against his. “formalities later, want you.”

“needy today,” niall bites into your lip, his hands roaming down to your thighs, picking you up and heading towards the bed.

“mhmm,” you hum, pulling away from his mouth to look at him. “wanna feel you again. s’been way too long.”

niall nods, biting his lip, “i did good then ?” he asks, laying you down on the bed, crawling over you.

“what do you mean ?” you ask softly, hands reaching up to rub over his chest, feeling his muscles twitch under your touch.

“i um-“ niall closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “i was in the uk this morning. i was so fuckin sick of waiting for us to be in the same city.”

he wasn’t planning on telling you that. this is not part of the agreement, he knows that. this is him being way more selfish than he has been. than he ever planned on being. but he needed you. he needed you so fucking badly, what else was he supposed to do ?

“wait, what ?” you look up at him, eyes locking on his to take this in, because is he really implying what you think he’s implying ? 

“i’m only in sweden for you,” he whispers. “please don’t be mad. i know this isn’t what we said we’d do. i just fuckin needed you, petal,” he adds quietly, his lips connecting with yours before you even have time to process what he said, let alone reply to it.

your head is swimming. how could you ever be mad ? someone flew out of their country to come see you for just one day ? fuck the agreement from vancouver, what is going on, that made him need to see you so badly ?

you manage to pull away from his attack on your mouth, cupping his cheek, “i could never be mad at you niall. i’m here for you, when you need me. within reason, obviously,” you giggle lightly. “do you wanna talk about what’s wrong ?”

he shakes his head, no, niall’s nose softly gliding against yours, “wanna feel you. remember what we said in italy, petal ?”

and fuck how could you forget. after niall had finished fucking you into oblivion on the counter, he sat with you, asking if the random turn of dominance, and roughness was okay. granted that’s usually a conversation for before, but he trusts that you’d tell him to stop. also trusts that you know he would stop, in a heartbeat, if anything wasn’t good for you.

but when you said that you loved it, actually had a bit of a pain kink, and bondage was your absolute favourite thing, niall’s mind started reeling. 

he admitted how good it felt, taking out his agressions, his sadness, his exhaustion. and well, you were more than happy to oblige.

you find yourself nodding, smiling at him, “would that feel good today ?”

“think so,” he groans, leaning back down to kiss your neck. one hand runs down your arm, gripping your hand and placing it above your head. “i’ve got that red sash again, can i use it ?” niall asks, slightly out of breath just thinking about you tied up for him again.

you whimper, hips bucking up into his, “please, loved it so much.”

“fuckin whimpering already,” niall groans, loving how deep into it you always seem to be, basking in the effect he has on you. “should have bought you dog tags instead of a rose.”

you bite your lip, blushing, unable to hold back the giggle, as niall jumps off the bed, going through his bag, coming back to you with the piece of satin fabric. he’s quick at getting your shirt off, your bra following along, both pieces of clothing piling up on the floor.

he gently takes both your hands, tying your first wrist tightly, but not enough to full on hurt, linking the satin through the headboard, tying up your other wrist just the same. “s’this okay ?” niall asks softly, leaving a series of soft kisses along your arm.

you give a tentative tug, a shot of warmth making your centre throb, as you feel the resistance of the fabric. “good,” you nod breathily, a look of pure bliss taking over your features.

“really weren’t kidding when you said you love being tied up, hmm ?” he asks, fingertips dancing over your skin, trailing over your chest, swiping over the swell of your breasts.

a shudder works its way through your body, feelings on overdrive from the moment you lost use of your hands. 

niall quickly shimmies you out of your pants and underwear, his eyes making contact with your bare cunt.

a groan works its way from deep in his throat, as his hands grip into your inner thighs, prying them open, to see you absolutely drenched.

his brain barely has time to catch up, before he’s laying flat on his stomach, mouth snogging your sopping pussy.

you moan loudly, hands tugging hard on the sash, legs automatically trying to close on his head, niall’s hands dug into your thighs incredibly hard to keep you open for him, “f-fuck ni- shit.”

“fuckin love your cunt so much,” he groans, mouth pressed against your folds, licking all over with no rhythm, so lost in you. “taste so fuckin good pup, best cunt ever,” he mumbles.

niall’s tongue quickly delves deep inside you, lapping at your inner walls, nose pressed up tight against your clit, devouring you as if he was never going to see you again. 

you were moaning loudly, your body on fire, hands tugging harder and harder against your restraints. your hips start bucking against his face, goosebumps erupting over your skin, head rolling back against the bed.

his tongue laps up at your clit, sucking it into his mouth, groaning around it. the vibration against your bundle of nerves, shot through your spine, an all encompassing warmth making its way down to your toes and out to your fingertips.

you could feel yourself dripping down to your bum, onto the mattress, surely mixed with a good amount of niall’s saliva. your brain felt foggy, the attack on your heat happening so quickly, you barely had time to catch up.

niall knew your orgasm was coming, could feel you throbbing over his tongue, so he switches over to quick flicks from your entrance to your clit, looking up as your body seizes up, your high ripping through you.

“fuck, fuck, niall,” you groan out, gasping for air, your legs trembling, as he doesn’t stop. “ni,” you whimper, your clit feeling incredibly sensitive.

he shakes his head, mouth still attached to your pussy, not giving you a break, “give me another one pup, c’mon,” he groans, his tongue delving right back into you. “taste so fuckin good, can’t stop. you’re so fuckin good,” he murmurs the last part, mouth sucking over your folds.

you were seeing stars, skin prickling, your wrists raw from all the tugging you’ve been doing. you were gasping for air, back arching off the bed, toes curling, as your face rolled to tuck itself into your arm. everything was on overdrive and your body wasn’t sure how to react.

but niall didn’t let up, kept sucking, licking, nipping, until he could feel another orgasm on the way. until he could feel you clenching around his tongue. “s’it, fuck, you can do it, puppy.”

you whine loudly, your second orgasm of the night washing over you, hips rising off the bed, niall’s mouth quick to follow you.

as you come down from your high, niall slows down with you, pecking softly against your outer lips and inner thighs. his hands take the opportunity to roam over your hips and thighs, hearing him murmur, “so good. such a fuckin good girl for me. so lucky to have you.”

he watches you catch your breath, getting up on his elbows to kiss over your tummy, “feeling good ?”

“mhmm,” you hum breathily. you were in a blissful post orgasm haze, your cunt throbbing, thoroughly enjoying all the soft pecks from niall’s lips, leaving a trail of sticky wetness he’s collected from your centre.

niall lifts himself a bit more, catching a glimpse of your sopping, abused pussy, biting his lip, as he now stares, absolutely mesmerized.

“let me just- let me clean you up,” he groans, his tongue taking one long stripe against your slit, collecting any bit of arousal.

the touch made your hips jump, shying away from him, already so overstimulated.

“mmh- dont,” niall moans, mouth following you as he laps up a few more long strokes. he can feel himself getting lost in you again, his fingers digging into your hips to keep you in place.

“niall,” you whimper, your body shaking, arms tugging impossibly harder to try and free your hands. your breath gets caught in your throat, eyes rolling back as you feel him dip a finger inside you.

“one more pup, please. can’t fuckin get enough,” he groans against you, a second finger joining the first. he’s quick to find the spongey spot inside you, fingertips rubbing hard, as your clit gets sucked harshly into his mouth, tongue flicking quickly.

you moan out loudly, your third orgasm creeping up on you faster than you could even see it coming. you’re sure you blacked out momentarily, the high so incredibly overwhelming.

niall pulls his fingers away, tongue taking one last languid stroke, pulling away from your abused cunt, reaching up to untie the sash, lips crashing onto yours.

your hands are quick to find their familiar spot in his hair, your body rolling into his, as you kiss him back just as needily.

“are you okay ?” he whispers quietly against your mouth, nose rubbing against yours.

“don’t think i could feel better right now,” you giggle breathily, one hand cupping his jaw, noticing the bruises in your wrists.

niall notices as well, taking your arms in his hands, trailing soft kisses over your bruised skin, “sure you’re okay ? fuck, that looks painful. m’sorry pet, was so lost in it, wasn’t thinking.”

“niall,” you coo, to get his attention. “m’fine. really. it doesn’t hurt that bad. i honestly feel fuckin amazing right now.”

he involuntarily rolls his hips into yours, groaning, as he suddenly realizes that he’s painfully hard, and still wearing all of his clothes.

his lips slot with yours again, tongue quick to enter your mouth, groaning again, needing some relief for himself. niall rolls over you, his knee pressing itself between your legs.

his mouth sucks some kisses down from your chin, following your jaw to your neck, “too spent for a good dicking ?”

you giggle breathily, humming, “never.”

“that’s my girl,” niall murmurs, pulling away from your neck to finally pull his shirt off.

your hands immediately place themselves on his skin, roaming over his chest and stomach, watching his muscles twitching under your touch. 

you’d missed him so much. it worried you. with every passing opportunity that you get to see him, you feel more complete. there was something about niall that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

since you met him, 9 months ago now, your friends had introduced you to some men that they assured were perfect for you. but the more you talked to them, the more you longed for an irish accent. the more you missed those deep blue eyes. the more you yearned for soft hands with calloused fingers to grip into your skin. the more you wished they were niall.

he had ruined you for anyone else, and a part of you was okay with that, but 3 months without him was absolute torture. it all seemed to really hit you when your hands properly collided with his skin. you’re not sure you want anyone else. ever.

your hands glide over him, fingers flicking over his nipples from time to time, watching him shuffle out of his pants and boxers. niall’s hands find yours, pulling you into a sitting position, lips pecking yours quickly. he keeps pulling you forward until your face is pressed down into the mattress towards the end of the bed, bum high in the air.

niall crawls on his knees until he’s behind you, hands gripping into your ass, eyes watching your cunt, “you’re still fuckin soaked.”

you bite your lip to hold down a moan, a bit embarrassed by the effect he has on you. how saying any little thing gets you completely riled up.

without being able to see, you feel the tip of niall’s cock, as he rubs himself through your slit, collecting your arousal.

you moan softly, relaxing into the mattress, his member slowly breaching your entrance. he rocks his hips slowly, small thrusts working himself in and out of you, until he’s fully settled.

you wiggle your hips slightly, his cock sitting deep inside you, your eyes fluttering shut at the fullness. his hands hold onto your hips tightly, pulling almost all the way out, thrusting back into you roughly.

the whimper gets caught in your throat, hands digging into the mattress below you, niall doing it again, and again.

the driving force of niall’s hips have him buzzing. his head tipped back on his shoulders, grunts and breathy moans leaving his red bitten lips, “cunt takes me so well. fuckin made for me weren’t you ? little pup made to take my cock. gotta see how good you look taking it.”

as the words leave his mouth, niall’s fingers wind themselves into your hair, tugging hard until your back is pressed to his chest, prick still buried deep inside you.

his arms quickly wind themselves around your body to hold you up, nose rubbing up against your shoulder to your neck, “open your eyes.”

you blink your eyes open, pupils falling on the mirror hanging above the dresser on the opposite wall from the bed. as soon as your eyes lock with your reflection, you bite into your lip, head lulling back onto niall’s shoulder.

“want you to look,” niall groans, his hand wrapping around your neck, giving a tentative squeeze, making your eyes snap open. “want you to see how fuckin beautiful you are when you take me.”

you whimper, a tremble running through your body as you struggle to keep your eyes open. niall’s cock was rutting against your sweet spot, your pussy already so overstimulated from your 3 previous orgasms.

your eyes start to close again, niall landing a hard smack right on your clit, “what did i fuckin say ?”

you moan loudly, eyes blinking open again, doing your best to watch. your staring at niall’s cock delving in and out of you, watching your arousal run down his cock to his balls, watching your legs start to tremble.

one of your hands winds its way back into niall’s hair, your face turning into his neck to kiss his skin, chest heaving for breath, looking to anchor yourself to him in some way.

but niall’s hand is quick to collide with your clit again, his other hand grasping your nipple, twisting it. a gasp leaves your chest, as your head lurches forward to look at your reflection again.

your entire body was trembling now, the heat in your stomach building incredibly fast, “niall,” you whimper, locking eyes with his through the mirror, “need to cum niall, please.”

“gonna fuckin watch ?” he asks, gently tapping against your clit, his thrusts getting harder and sloppier, his orgasm right around the corner as well.

“promise. fuck, promise. please can i cum ?” you whine, your cunt already starting to clench on him, struggling to hold back.

“cum for me,” niall grunts into your ear, as his hand winds its way around your throat again, squeezing tightly, your pussy gripping onto his prick like a vice.

your eyes are locked in the mirror, a wave of extra heat coursing through you, watching as your centre gushes onto the bed below. niall moans loudly, face tucked into your neck, his high hitting hard, “fuckin look at you. soaking my cock, christ, you’re such a good girl.”

you can feel how full you’re becoming as niall spurts ribbon after ribbon of hot cum. your entire body is a shaking mess, leaned heavily on him for support as you work at catching your breath. 

niall slowly pulls out of you, a whimper leaving your lips, as your cunt clenches on nothing, small dribble of cum leaking down your thighs. he helps you lay down comfortably on the bed, joining you in a cuddle.

“think i’ve said it before,” niall mutters, lips pressing over any bit of your skin he can reach. “but, that was seriously the best.”

you giggle, cuddling up into him more, “didn’t know getting my pussy spanked would become one of my favourite things.”

niall groans at that, his lips reaching yours in a seething kiss, “didn’t know i’d love doing it so much. fuck petal, you look so good taking it.”

“did it work ?” you ask quietly, mouth ghosting his, as your hands roam soothingly over his skin, the look of confusion on his features making you go on, “like, did it help ? to use me like that. do you feel better ?”

honestly, niall had completely forgotten everything that was tearing at his insides. he feels light, airy, bubbly even. no lingering trace of heaviness in his head, on his heart.

the only weight he feels at the moment is in his chest. and it’s not a bad one this time. it’s like the moment you realize you have something so good. so precious. and it feels like you’re the luckiest person on the planet to have found it. you’ll do everything in your power to protect it. to keep it safe. 

“you have no idea the kind of power you have over me,” he whispers, his hand cupping your jaw as he speaks. “you’re fuckin intoxicating to me. like the most powerful drug i’ve ever encountered. you somehow take every bad thing away from me, i feel like i owe you so much.”

you shake your head, hands massaging his shoulders, “listen to me,” you hum with conviction. “you dont ever owe me anything. i dont think you realize it, but you do it for me too. and knowing that i can make someone feel so good, is absolutely enough for me.”

“i’m honestly the luckiest lad on the planet. people should be fuckin throwing themselves at you,” he chuckles, shaking his head, as he takes a deep breath. “on that note,” he adds, “should probably clean you up yeah ? must be leaking so much. then maybe we can eat ? i’m starving.”

you laugh, nodding your head, as niall, your niall, the one you’ve known so well, steps away from you to rush over to the bathroom for a washcloth, cleaning you up, biting his lip as he sees the state of your abused cunt. he takes in the puffiness of your folds, swollen clit peaking out, as he shakes his head, “sure you’re okay ? feel like i must’ve hurt you so much.”

“stop,” you giggle, “i swear, m’fine. i like this remember.”

“i know, i know, you keep saying that. but this is really the first time i’ve ever done anything like this to anyone,” he coos. “never seen someone bruised up and so fuckin swollen after sex.”

“forget about it honey, i love the pain. lets take your mind off it, yeah ? have some dinner,” you suggest, sitting up and reaching for niall’s discarded shirt, slipping it on and nothing else. “since i haven’t seen this room yet, can you lead the way ?”

niall nods, hopping off the bed, pulling some pants on, hand resting on the small of your back, as he leads you through the suite. he shows you the bathroom, the small kitchen esque space, and the living room with a large couch, big fireplace next to the window that overlooks the city below you, completely lit up now that the sun has gone down.

you both share some amazing room service, niall lighting a fire, getting cozy with you on the couch as you both chat away.

he doesn’t tell you much about what’s been bothering him, but you can tell that he’s feeling so much better. it’s like you have the ability to liquify yourself and shoot through his veins like the best heroin this earth has to offer. it’s the first time you can really see how much you seem to be able to do for him.

so you dont pry, you dont want him to have to relive all of the things that were bothering him, especially now that he’s visibly, infinitely better. how could you let him fall back into the depths of despair. you dont think your cunt could handle another round of “make niall feel better” tonight.

eventually, the fire starts to run low, the late hours starting to make themselves known, as you both show signs of fatigue. your work day, niall’s day of travels to get here, really showing on your faces.

you both make your way back into the bedroom, cuddling up in bed, niall’s lips pecking over your head that’s tucked into him. “i’m so thankful for you. and everything you do for me. everything. seriously, petal, thank you.”

and that’s the last thing your brain registers before falling asleep.

niall woke up the next morning, your alarm blaring from the nightstand, a heavy weight in his chest. he feels you slip through his arms to shut your alarm off, flopping back down with a groan. he’s quick to wrap his arms around you again, head buried in your neck, his grip tight.

he couldn’t let you go. couldn’t fathom having you walk away so soon. his body literally ached. he was nauseous, holding back tears, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm himself, kissing along your neck as a form of distraction.

“can you delay your flight ?” you hear him murmur into your skin. the amount of pure desperation, sadness, gut wrenching pain you could hear seeping from his voice, made your chest tighten. you’d never heard him sound so broken.

your arms wrap themselves around him, head burying itself in his hair, cooing quietly, “are you okay honey ?”

you feel niall take a deep breath against your skin before speaking, “please, can you just- can you please stay one more day ?”

his arms have wound themselves tighter around you, unable to let you go. it’s always been hard to say goodbye, but for some reason, this time, is literally impossible. he doesn’t remember feeling this much pain in his chest, in a long time.

“i’ll call the airline,” you whisper, not able to leave him like this. you’ve known something’s been off about him. been able to feel it. it’s like a sixth sense you have with niall. 

and although he seemed to be feeling a lot better last night, after having the opportunity to let it all out, using your body. which you absolutely loved, he’s welcomed to anytime. but this morning, all the hard work you’d put in to make him feel better, was washed away by the sound of your alarm.

relief floods him immediately, his chest not feeling as tight, his lungs able to take the first proper breath since he was woken by the loud beep beep beep. the kisses along your neck become more intense, more fevered, in a way to thank you. his throat is still too constricted, now holding back happy, relief filled tears, he doesn’t think he could manage words just yet.

“but i need to leave tomorrow,” you explain quietly, not wanting to disappoint him too too badly, but still needing to be honest and realistic with him. “i have to be at work the next day.”

niall nods, pulling away from your neck to look at you, “just one more day. really need one more day.”

you nod in understanding, wiggling your way out of his arms to make your phone call to the airline.

as you crawl back to join him in bed, you get an idea, “hey ni, you know how being more rough and dominant with me, makes you feel better ?”

he hums, as he nods, looking at you questioningly, “cant possibly tell me you want more of that ? i fuckin wrecked your cunt last night, still feel a bit bad to be honest.”

“stop,” you chuckle, smacking his chest playfully, as you climb onto him to straddle his waist. “have you ever wondered if you like the pain too ? there’s nothing quite like it, in my opinion, to help release all that pent up shit.”

“you-“ niall stops himself, heart rate picking up, his cock semi interested at the mention. “you want to dominate me ?” he asks. “i’ve really never done anything like that.”

“wanna try ?” you smirk, leaning down to kiss over the shell of his ear, kitten licking to get him more worked up. 

your teeth grip into niall’s ear ring, giving a tug, making a deep groan work its way out of his chest. his back arches, eyes fluttering shut, as he grips into your left knee, dragging it up the bed, your dripping cunt properly exposed to him as his hips buck up. 

the angle makes his clothed cock slide through your folds, catching on your clit with every glide.

“you like it too,” you whisper against niall’s ear, a smirk present on your lips, shimmying him our of his pants.

“maybe i do” niall mumbles breathily, as your grip in his hair tightens incredibly, tugging hard at the roots.

he tries to stifle the tiny whimper in the back of his throat, but you catch it, the smirk on your lips growing wider. “you definitely do,” you answer him.

you notice his eyes rolling back, the air leaving his body, as the thought takes over his brain. he’s battling with himself. does he really want this ? there’s no one he’d rather try with.

“can you- fuck, um-“ niall trails off.

you watch him attentively, curious about what could have him so worked up. so shy to talk to you. that’s never really happened. he’s always made it very clear that you’re his safety, someone he totally trusts. 

“i’ve never done this petal, ever,” he murmurs again to try and explain his jumbled thoughts as his cock grows harder. “but-“ he sighs, “think it would feel good today. the pain.”

“fuck, niall, yeah ?” you ask, lifting yourself up, hips seated on his, his cock laying flat against your folds, neither of you moving as you talk through this.

“please,” he whispers, so much vulnerability visible in his eyes. 

“can i ask you something ?” you hum, eyes locked on his, needing to properly gauge his reaction.

“anything,” he nods, hands rubbing soothingly over your thighs and hips. 

“can i- can i leave marks ? if i’m supposed to hurt you,” you trail off. “nowhere obvious, but like,” you trail off again, not sure how to word what you want to ask. you are quite literally sitting on his cock, asking the full question feels wrong.

but niall knows what you’re asking and his eyes fill with incredible disappointment, anger, sadness, frustration. a single tear rolls its way down his cheek, before he blinks hard, willing the others away.

“can’t leave any marks,” he whispers, dread seeping through him. “fuck, tomorrow i’ll be-“ and now it’s his turn to cut himself off.

you know what he’s implying. tomorrow he’ll be in the presence of someone that’s seeing his body. right down to the intimate places.

niall’s hands leave your thighs for a moment to dig his palms into his eyes. he didn’t think he could be more on edge. especially not with you right there. you always take the edge away. 

but he’s angry. angry as fuck right now. because for the first time, he can’t take full advantage of being with you. the thing he needs from you today, for comfort, he can’t have. his safe space has been tainted for the first time since meeting you. and he’s not sure how to process that.

you notice the quick change in his demeanour, and every ounce of your being seems to crumble for him. this isn’t right, you think to yourself. you’re his safe space, you feel this incredible need to help him. there’s no way you’re letting him walk away from this without feeling infinitely better. 

it’s not something you’d ever tell him, but it feels so rewarding to see how good you can make him feel. like you’ve truly helped someone. you can’t leave him stranded now.

so you think quick on your feet, indexes and thumbs reaching out for his nipples, giving them a sharp twist.

to say niall was not expecting that would be an understatement. his hips instantly buck up hard, cock sliding deliciously over your clit. he moans out loud, hands flying to grip onto you, any part of you he can reach.

“fuuuuck,” he groans, taking in a deep breath, eyes blinking up at you, a silent question etched on his eyes.

“i was just asking you a question. i can give you pain without leaving any marks,” you smile at him, flicking one of his nipples.

there you are. his safe space. always making things better, without even trying. niall didn’t think it was possible to adore you anymore, but here you are. there is no one like you. he feels so blessed to have been able to meet you. he hopes fate had something to do with it. it’s way too much to be a random coincidence.

“you’re in charge, pup, m’all yours,” he hums breathily, hips rolling up into yours, his body visibly relaxing into the bed.

“mmh,” you groan, biting your lip, a shot of arousal bubbling out of your cunt. “have no idea how much i loved hearing that.”

you roll your hips, feeling niall’s cock glide between your folds, unable to hold out any longer. you grip at the base of his member, sitting yourself on his prick.

niall moans out loudly, back arching off the bed, as his cock settles deep inside you, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. 

once seated, you completely stop moving your hips, fingertips lightly gliding over his stomach and chest. you can feel niall’s thighs trembling, his muscles jumping under your touch.

he tries to buck his hips, whining loudly, feeling absolutely tortured by your unmoving, fluttering cunt around him. 

niall gasps out loudly, as your nails rake hard down his torso, calculated enough to be rough without leaving a trace, “fuck, fuck, please pet, need ya to move.”

“thought i was in charge,” you hum, tutting at him, twisting his nipples between your fingers again.

he whimpers loudly, his body trembling, mind buzzing at the feel of your cunt, his cock begging for any form of movement. begging for anything.

“look who’s whimpering now,” you groan, hand wrapping around niall’s neck, hold tightening, as you cut the airflow to his brain.

niall’s hips immediately leave the bed, lifting you along with him, your knees now hovering in mid air. “please, fuck, please,” he gasps breathily, air leaving his lungs.

“f-fuck,” you moan, your head tipping back, slowly losing your composure. this was absolutely torturing you as well. as full as you felt, and as good as that feeling was, your body was starting to give in.

“swear to fuckin god, the minute you move, m’gonna cum,” niall groans, trying to breathe deeply, trying to hold himself together. he never imagined that letting go of the control would make him lose his mind quite this much.

“guess i gotta get there too then,” you smirk, your hand gliding down your body, fingers reaching your clit, working over your sensitive button.

you moan out instantly, your pussy fluttering more and more over niall’s member, the more you flick and rub. 

niall’s watching you attentively, taking shuddering breaths, as he’s working hard to hold himself together. he’s never ever been so close to the edge, without quite being able to get there.

“fuck, fuck ni, cum with me,” you groan, starting to bounce on him, both of you moaning out loudly.

niall sees stars, mind going blank, cumming harder than he ever remembers cumming. shooting hot spurts into you, filling you right up to the brim.

the look on his face, the loud pornographic moan, the extreme fullness his cum has provided, you lose yourself right along with him.

you watch over him as he catches his breath, hands gliding soothingly over your thighs, shaking his head, “never felt anything like that. fuck, petal, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. thank you for spending valentines day with me.”

realization crashes over you. yesterday was the 13th. that makes today the 14th. the weight of that hits you hard. did he plan some of this ? you know he could not have faked the look on his face, or the sound of his voice, this morning. 

but still, he’d rather be here, with you, on a random trip to literally just be with you. what does his lady think ? where does she think he is this weekend ? he’d really rather spend it with you ?

you dont ask any of the questions on your mind. too caught up in a post orgasm haze, not wanting to make him think too much on it, as you really dont want to depress him again. 

this is fine, you blatantly lie to yourself. it’s fine. it’s gotta be fine.

Part 7

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

tags : @acesofspadess

[sharuruwrites]

Ambivalence pt. I

Summary:

“He totally stood you up, Ito-chan!” The girl with a braid slammed her hands on the table, rattling the glass of strawberry milkshake. “Also, he's trash!”

“Stood me up?” Shion shrugged. “I think you got the wrong idea. I’m only seeing him as a friend.”

“Don’t be stupid! Don’t defend him! Don’t ever cover for him!” The anger in the latter’s navy blue eyes matched the frown curled on her lips. “He should have given you a heads up earlier! Even a friend wouldn’t do this to you!”

Masterlist

A/n: I'll post up the previous chapter somewhere this week before things get hectic.

Timeline: Gojo - 16 (first two scenes), 17 (last two scenes) Shion - 15 (First two scenes), 16 (last two scenes)

TW: Self-loathing, Unintentional self-harm, Nightmares,

Tags: Spoilers JJK season 2, Hidden Inventory arc spoilers, Angst

—-----

Hair? Not too messy, not too well-kept.

Make-up? Not too much, or too little.

Outfit? Not too simple, or too eye-catching.

After one quick look at the mirror for final touches, Shion left her room with a small spring added to her step. One would assume that she is a young maiden in love, on her way to meet the person who held her affections.

Yet that wasn’t the case.

Today was the day Gojo Satoru, her self-proclaimed “favorite senpai”, would treat her to lunch. After the whole soy sauce fiasco a few weeks ago, the upperclassman searched far and wide for a way to apologize for his mean-spirited prank. Shion was skeptical about Gojo’s offer. She changed her mind seconds later when she saw the mouth-watering pastries from Gojo’s text.

As she exited her dorm, a familiar cheery voice called out her name. Dressed in casual clothes, Haibara greeted Shion with a bright smile. Honestly, if he and Gojo were in the same room, the energy they gave off was enough to power a whole village–except Haibara’s energy would always be wholesome, while the latter’s energy was usually fueled by menace.

"Aren’t you taking your sister to Universal Studios today, Haibara-kun?”

 “That was…supposed to be the plan, but I accidentally slept in because of how tiring our assignment was last night.” Haibara rubbed the nape of his neck, already resigned to his sister’s future scoldings. “What about you? You look very nice today, Shion.” 

Shion glaring at her classmate before folding her arms, struggling to contain the embarrassment flaring up inside her. “I’m going out.” 

"Neat!" Haibara grinned before giving a pat on her shoulder. "With one of our senpais?”

“I guess… you could say that.”

"Are you going on a da-"

"Look at the time," Shion glanced at her imaginary watch. "I don't want to be late for the train."

And, that’s how she ended up waiting half an hour at the cafe with no call or text from Gojo. She would like to think she’s a very patient person, considering the annoyances (Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru) she had to deal with on a daily basis. But this was really testing her patience.

She was already on her third plate of chocolate crepe, and second cup of coffee when her phone beeped three times.

From: Your favorite strongest senpai (⌐■ - ■) ノ

（ｉДｉ） Sorry kouhai-chan! (T - T) Yaga-sensei forced me to go on a mission today! I’ll spoil you rotten to make up for it! (ღゝ◡╹ )ノ♡

“He totally stood you up, Ito-chan!” The girl with a braid slammed her hands on the table, rattling the glass of strawberry milkshake. “Also, he's trash!”

“Stood me up?” Shion shrugged. “I think you got the wrong idea. I’m only seeing him as a friend.”

“Don’t be stupid! Don’t defend him! Don’t ever cover for him!” The anger in the latter’s navy blue eyes matched the frown curled on her lips. “He should have given you a heads up earlier! Even a friend wouldn’t do this to you!”

Now, one might wonder who and how Shion met this spunky girl in front of her. She vaguely remembered that she planned to leave her table, and order pastries for her classmates. Out of nowhere, this girl approached her with an enthusiastic greeting– a greeting akin to welcoming an old friend.

“Sorry, but, may I ask who you are again?” Shion admitted. “I don’t remember names very well upon first meeting.”

“Riko!” The girl beamed, patting herself on the chest. “You can also call me onee-san!”

Big sister? That’s not right. Shion couldn't possibly be younger than her. Judging by Riko’s height and appearance, Riko would most likely be a middle school student. As much as she wanted to correct Riko, she threw the idea out of the window. Who was she to douse the girl's newfound determination? Especially when she felt such sincerity coming from her offer?

Shion nodded reluctantly. "Alright, Riko-neesan."

Riko pinched Shion’s cheeks. The eyepatched girl groaned in pain at the same time that Riko squealed with excitement.

Riko let go of her friend’s cheeks before cupping her own in delight, “I knew it was a good idea to come here.”

“Why?” Shion asked, rubbing her cheeks to numb the pain.

“You’re like a cat abandoned in a cardboard box on a rainy day.” Riko mimed a square shape. “I can’t turn a blind eye to it, knowing I can help the poor kitty.”

Shion blinked a couple of times at Riko. Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult? Did she look that pathetic and disappointed outside of the cafe?

“Enough about me!” Riko flipped her braided hair to her back. “What about you? Since you consider this no show a ‘friend’, does that mean you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Is anyone trying to date you?”

“Not really.”

“A crush then?”

“Crush?” Shion pinched her brows together. “I saw my teacher crush a watermelon between her thighs once.”

And it had caught the attention of many beach goers, who begged Tsukumo to do it again. Tsukumo refused, warning them that the next demonstration would be with their heads instead–which, in a strange way, only seemed to encourage them further. Although Tsukumo ignored the interested spectators, Shion had a feeling that the attention boosted her teacher’s ego.

Shion startled at Riko's loud laughter, causing some patrons to cast glances at their table.

“Not that kind of crush! I meant a crush as in someone you admired for a while.”

Admired? There was no doubt that she admired Geto Suguru. Aside from his playfulness, which paired well with his best friend’s, Geto was a considerate and handsome gentleman. Their teachers, Watanabe and Yaga, described him as a model student and a model sorcerer. Should she start acting like Geto then? So that way she could get her own recommendation earlier than expected?

Except there was this weird phenomenon she felt around him–nervousness always swelled up inside her when Geto was nearby, and her tongue became all tied up after just a single glance from him. 

Amidst all this thinking, another person popped into her mind. — Gojo Satoru.

The thought confounded her.

He was attractive, although to preserve what's left of her quiet life, she wouldn’t admit it till the end of time. But his handsomeness wasn’t something she admired him for. There must be something in Gojo that caused her brain to see him as her ‘crush’.

Yet she still held that Six-Eyes user in a respectable regard whether it be as an individual or as a sorcerer.

The novels she read gave an idea of what kind of character Gojo would be. The loud ones were the ones who were lonely. They yearned for someone to understand them as they’re too different from anyone else. In his case, that person was Geto. She wouldn’t be surprised if those two ended up together in the end, considering they’re already close, matching each other’s personalities, bickering and acting like a married couple. 

As for her? 

Shion and Gojo walked the same path of solitude but with different starting points, and different end goals. Gojo Satoru was ‘blessed’ into a world he matters, ‘cursing’ people and spirits who dared to oppose him. Meanwhile, Ito Shion was ‘cursed’ into a world with no memories, 'blessing' her free from the threads of her unknown past.

Admiration wasn’t the word she’s looking for. Envious, perhaps.

Then again, those were her measly assumptions. Who was she to make judgment on a guy she met only a few months ago? It’s pathetic that she’s comparing herself–a literal nobody–to someone who had everything.

The eyepatched girl nodded, making Riko squeal in delight. “And, what do you like about this guy? Is he cute? Handsome? Pretty?”

“He’s annoying. Not to mention, he constantly bugs me as if it’s his favorite pastime.” Shion rubbed her temple. “Yet he’s someone I know I can rely on when the need arises.”

The starry-eyed girl’s expression turned sour, like she'd bitten off a good chunk of the sourest lemon and swallowed it down in one go.

“I think he likes you back, Shion.” Riko said, shaking her head. “What he’s doing is acting like a typical snotty nosed brat in elementary school who doesn’t know anything other than how to be mean to their crush.”

“How did you know?” Shion tilted her head to the side. “It happened to you?”

“With this face? How could it not?” Riko gestured to her face. “I have experienced it lots! It’s cute when it’s obvious and all, but you know how boys can be, testing your damn patience until you throw a punch.” 

Underneath the table, Shion’s hands formed a fist. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, admired her? That seemed hard to believe when there’s nothing admirable about her to begin with. Did he know something about her that she didn’t? 

If Gojo Satoru had a connection or a piece of her past, he could either become the stepping stone for her answers or an obstruction to getting them.

She hoped it wouldn't be the latter. ‘Complicated’ was the best word to describe what would happen if she had to put Gojo’s neck on the chopping block. She would hate to clean up the mess that would inevitably come after.

“Enough about crushes,” Riko stood up from her seat,and pumped her fists. “It’s time to hit the arcades and play hard!”

After paying for their meal, Riko dragged Shion to a nearby shopping district. The streets were filled with people in various stages of life. Some were shopping with friends or family, discussing the different outfits and accessories displayed nicely on the plain mannequins. Children admired the coolest or the cutest toys, while begging their parents to buy them. Others were waiting in line for their turn in different food stalls, eager to get their hands on their orders. 

However, Riko and Shion had to take a quick detour at a nearby boutique. Upon entering the shop, Riko beelined towards the display rack full of various accessories. Whoever was in charge of stocking the merchandise didn’t do a good job. Shion itched to organize the products to her own liking. Bright and bold patterns placed next to the calm and simple pieces were quite the eyesore for her.

“Can you try and find a headband that will suit me?” Riko asked while browsing through the display. “It got ruined the last time I did laundry…which was also my first time.” 

“How about this one?”

Shion picked up a white cotton fabric. She slid it underneath Riko’s hair before tucking it in properly to secure her hair in place.

“What do you think?”

“I see perfection, that’s what!” Riko beamed. “I’ll buy--wait, where are you going, Shion?” 

Shion froze on the spot, and slowly turned her head to Riko while her hand was occupied with her wallet. 

Shit.

“L-let me pay for it, Riko-neesan!” Shion waved her free hand frantically as Riko’s eyes targeted her wallet. At this moment, she wished she was much taller than Riko. But she wasn’t, and so couldn’t keep her wallet out of reach. Once Riko saw her student ID, Shion had no idea what would come next. Chaos and disorder ensured.

“Oh no you don’t!” Riko grabbed onto Shion’s wallet, attempting to pull it away from her. “I’m not going to let you pay for it!”

In the midst of the struggle, Shion restrained herself from using her full strength, scared that she might hurt Riko in the process. Reluctantly, she loosened the grip and watched Riko’s smug expression turn into something different. Riko’s eyes widened and her attention went back and forth between her new friend, and the plastic white card that clearly listed Shion’s birthday.

“Y-You’re older than me!?” she said, horrified at the shocking revelation.”How come you didn’t tell me?!”

“Well,” Shion put her wallet away into her bag after whisking it away from Riko’s hands. “You told me to call you onee-san earlier and-” 

“You tricked me like a clown!”

Shion scratched her cheek with her finger before she clasped her hands together. “Then…could you tell me how I can exactly make up for it?”

As if she flipped a switch, Riko’s expression lightened up. “Well, since you asked so nicely, I’ll forgive you this time…Only if you defeat me in Mario Kart! I’m warning you that I’m best at it! Never lost once!” 

Unfortunately for Riko, Tsukumo’s intense training had instilled a competitive spirit in Shion. The eyepatched girl dominated all three cups in 150 CC–crushing Riko’s soul while at the same time earning her forgiveness and respect. Riko’s dramatic loss attracted a group of boys who challenged Shion in exchange for their hard earned tickets. One by one, they dropped like flies after every track as Shion won first place in all of the races. 

Amongst the defeated wails of high school and middle school boys, Shion and Riko pursue other endeavors in the arcade. They sang their hearts out (mostly Riko) in karaoke, danced like nobody’s business in DDR, and took lots of pictures in the photo booth. Riko used the tablet inside to decorate each picture with artistic doodles before printing them. Yet, they had to part ways under the dusky orange sky, which also happened to be the busiest time of the day for train passengers. Whether it be entering the carriage, or waiting for their train to arrive, they all had a goal in mind -- to go home.

“Thanks to your winnings, I managed to get everything I want before I go!” Riko lifted her paper bags full of prizes and plushies in glee.

“Before you go?” Shion questioned.

“Oh, um…” Riko dropped her shoulders in defeat before sighing and facing Shion with downcast eyes. “I’m…actually moving away from…Tokyo, to somewhere far from my friends. I don’t want to, but what choice do I have, when everyone says that it’s the best choice for me?”

Shion was stumped by Riko's line of questions. Yet what Riko felt–anxiety and fear of uncertainty–was something that Shion unfortunately knew. Tsukumo had enrolled Shion in Jujutsu Tech without the girl’s knowledge. Shion had protested and stubbornly refused to admit that she was scared, because she had only known the world through Tsukumo’s guidance. After all, Tsukumo was there from the moment Shion woke from her coma.

Yet after hearing Tsukumo's words, Shion became reluctantly open to the idea of attending, and that reluctance eventually turned into gratitude for her teacher's push.

Despite the constant ugliness of the cursed world, Tsukumo Yuki pried open a door for her to experience and appreciate the smallest things in life.

“Sorry,” Riko scratched the back of her head while wearing a restrained smile. " I shouldn’t dump this onto someone I just befriend-”

"It's scary right?" Shion gently took Riko's free hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "My teacher told me it's alright to be scared and anxious when you’re doing something outside of your comfort zone. Tell them what you're feeling, and even if they don't get it, the heaviness in your chest will no longer be there, right?"

Shion watched Riko's eyes become glassy with unshed tears before letting out a shaky laugh and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. Not too long, she pulled Shion into a tight hug.

"Thank you," Riko said, her voice muffled by Shion's shirt. "I'm glad I got to know you, Shion."

Shion returned the hug awkwardly with pats on Riko's back. Man, she really needed to get used to affections such as this.

"Shion," Riko called. She pulled back and showed her smiling face with teary eyes. I know it's not fair to ask you this, but let's meet again, alright?"

Something twisted horribly in Shion's guts. A tinge of foreboding. The possibility of never meeting her again.

Shion took a deep breath before giving Riko a smile.

"Of course. Let’s meet again, Riko-chan.”

—---------------------------

“W-why?” she croaked. 

Shion never got an answer to this question. Instead, a sharp breath escaped from Shion’s lips as something pierced in her abdomen and twisted, eliciting a yelp that cut through the silent winter night. As the knife pulled out, a warm and metallic-smelling liquid spilled from the wound.

Her vision was getting blurry, her body grew heavier, and her hand became colder as the red pool beneath her grew bigger.

A sharp tip pressed against her neck, and the familiar bright emerald eyes above her had turned lifeless and filled with contained anger, ready to burst at any moment.

"To understand you, I need to have the same sorrow as you have… no… perhaps even worse than that." The voice was monotonous and cold. The sharp tip dug deeper into her neck. “Die for your sake, Shion.”

Shion gasped loudly, waking herself up in a panic. Her ragged breaths came fast as her hands gripped firmly around her neck. Gradually, her fingers tightened their grasp.

In these moments, she remembered her mentor’s calming presence.

‘Focus on my breathing, Shion.'

The heavy feeling in her chest eventually ebbed away as she continuously repeated the breathing exercise that her teacher taught her. Lips closed as she inhaled slowly through her nose, followed by a long exhale out of her mouth.

When she could no longer hear Tsukumo's voice echoing inside her head, she let go of her throat and sat up. With one last deep breath, she let out the rest of her stress. She wiped off the cold sweat off her forehead with her palms and looked around.

The digital clock on her bedside read 12:45 am. She was still wearing her uniform. Was she that tired from today's mission? No, no she wasn't so exhausted that she’d fallen asleep in her clothes. Typically, she would skip a meal in favor of more rest. Yet she remembered Watanabe scolding Haibara for nearly burning the kitchen down…so she must have had enough energy to stop by the kitchen earlier.

Pushing her thoughts aside, she made her way to the bathroom, hoping a quick splash of cold water would dispel the existing discomfort in her body.

Turning on the light, she saw her own appearance reflected in the mirror. Bed mess hair, dark crescents under her eyes, and the fresh bruises on her neck must be during the nightmare. It felt weird to see herself without the eyepatch. She wore it nearly 24/7 with the exception of going to sleep and taking a bath. She had no qualms when Tsukumo heavily suggested that she conceal her right eye, and Shion had assumed it was for her own sake.

Yet seeing it had no effect on her wellbeing, why did she have it in the first place?

As if responding to her own curiosity, Shion watched as the color of her eyes flickered between gold and blue until a sudden sharp pain tore through her skull. She clutched her head in response, steadying herself on the edge of the sink. The plain and simple bathroom was now covered with dark, crooked black lines. Red and blue vein-like lines spread across her entire body.

Once the pain subsided, Shion looked at the mirror once more. Her eye color went back to its normal shade of amber, and a bloody streak fell from her tear ducts, staining her cheeks. Shion clicked her tongue before splashing her face with cold water. She reached for the towel to dry her face and then opened the medicine cabinet to reach for her prescription.

With a pop, she opened the container and peeked in to find only a few sleeping pills left sitting at the bottom. She frowned at the sudden small amount. Not even three weeks had passed by, and she was already running low on her supply.

"Looks like I have to ask Watanabe-sensei for a refill again," Shion muttered, putting her sleeping pills back into the cabinet. Then she went back to sit down on the edge of her bed.

Before she had entered the student life, the nightmares were nothing but a common occurrence. Typically, she brushed them off with a nice cup of chamomile tea, lulling herself back to sleep. However, the dreams had integrated themselves into her life recently, with a frightening amount of ease. Her fatigue had gotten so bad that Watanabe personally intervened and prescribed her with medication to combat her sudden aversion to sleep.

It didn’t even help that the person in her dream changed occasionally. Most of the time, it was that person with green eyes, always staring at her with contempt. Once or twice she’d seen Geto’s purple eyes filled with yearning, or Nanami’s silent yet contemptuous gaze. It caught her off guard once when–in a dream– her eyes met Haibara’s and she saw the kind boy who never seemed to hold a grudge looking down at her with a disinterested expression.

Riko sometimes appeared, but her eyes were different; unlike the others. Her eyes were full of sorrow, as if she wanted more from her life than her fate as the Star Plasma vessel.

Upon seeing Gojo carrying Riko’s corpse, time stood still for so long that Shion believed it was frozen. Cursing Fate itself wouldn’t do anything to bring back her friend from death. In a twisted way, Fate had honored their promise to meet again. But instead of smiles and shared laughter, their reunion had ended with Riko’s lifeless body in the wooden casket, and Shion’s carefully crafted apathy during the funeral. She didn’t need the unnecessary attention from those who already harbored deep suspicions of her.

Yet because of her perceived ambivalence, rumors brewed amongst the attendees. 

‘Heartless child.’ ‘Traitor.’ The constant name calling nearly made her lose her shit. Shion was a nobody; as far as they knew, she had no connection to Riko. What kind of reaction were they hoping for? Should she wail on her knees for someone that everyone assumed she hadn’t known? Look remorseful for a crime that they suspected she had committed? Act belligerent by giving them all a false confession, bragging about how she had doomed them all with the vessel’s death, confirming that they were right to distrust her?

Those baseless accusations made Shion sick in disgust. Despite the warnings from her teachers telling her not to go, she went anyway, foolishly believing she could handle the suffocating animosity in the funeral. For an event to remember the dead, it felt like everyone except for the Tokyo faculty staff and her classmates were playing the blame game and all pointing at her. 

In spite of the fact that she was about to leave the funeral early and return to her room, Gojo Satoru whisked her away from the memorial to a nearby park. An unexpected diversion, but she welcomed it, and for once, she was grateful for his presence. 

Two cold bottles of Ramune shared between them while staring at the orange-kissed sky. No words exchanged, only silence with the occasional background noises. Children laughing as they were called home for dinner, the wind rustling through the trees.

What Gojo did was nice; he gave her a little slice of life, and tricked her into believing that Cursed Spirits, Sorcerers, and Techniques didn’t exist in the first place. 

She felt a few moments of peace, all thanks to that one guy who tormented her constantly, for no apparent reason. 

“I think he likes you back, Shion.” Riko said, shaking her head. “What he’s doing is acting like a typical snotty nosed brat in elementary school who doesn’t know anything other than how to be mean to their crush.”

A pointless thought. Whatever version Gojo painted of herself in his mind, he better scrap it and dump it in the trash. She would repeat this many times as she needed to, like a broken record. There’s nothing admirable about a nobody like her; nothing to desire, nothing to be envious of.

However, she hadn’t considered another possibility. What if Gojo was drawn to her for who she actually was? What if there was something about her for him to like? 

All this thinking made Shion tired, and her brain begged for her to close her eyes and sleep. Yet a single thought formed as her eyelids grew heavy. She slowly drifted off into slumber.

‘It’s…weird…but…nice… ’ 

—--------------------------------------

Life truly goes on regardless of who dies and who lives. No pause or stop button to press. But instead of stopping or even slowing, Shion felt her own life accelerating as one tragedy struck after another. The only thing she could do was to try and keep herself afloat against the raging rivers of time. 

But then something unexpected happened: Shion was assigned to a mission with Gojo for the first time. It made life for her bearable.

“You can fucking tease me all you want after this.” Shion harshly whispered, tightening her hold around his shoulders. “Just let me hold you, dammit. It’s unfair you were there for me when no one came for you.”

Ever since that day, Gojo slowly integrated himself further into her life, whenever he had the time. He was–and still is–the annoying menace she knew. He still pulled pranks that made her cuss him out, and there was plenty of childish banter between them. Yet from time to time, they basked together in each other’s company whether it be in silence or Gojo talking enough for the two of them, and Shion chiming in with occasional answers.

It was unexpected, but she didn’t mind the gradual change–and funnily enough–she looked forward to his presence more. A little bit of happiness appeared in her whenever he came by or smiled at her direction. 

He reminded her of an energetic puppy. Adorable.

Speaking of Gojo Satoru…for once, she found herself wishing that Gojo was next to her right now in the library. Shion stared at the book taunting her from the top of the shelf, just out of reach. She rolled her neck and then her shoulders, tired from trying to reach it. She did everything she could–jumping, tiptoeing, and shaking the furniture itself.

Scaling the wooden bookshelf was a stupid idea. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures.

On the small ledge of the bookshelf, Shion stepped on it as carefully as possible, balancing her weight while holding on to the edges. As she slowly made her way to the book, she could hear the wood creak. It was as if the bookshelf was warning her to stop what she was doing.

She ignored the warnings and extended her hand as far as possible. Her fingertips almost touched the spine of the book, but just barely. She had almost reached her goal–

The bookshelf groaned and began to topple. In an attempt to stabilize the furniture, Shion shifted her weight forward but her fingers slipped, and she lost her balance. She closed her eyes and braced for the hard impact of her fall. Instead of the hard wooden floor she anticipated, she felt the firm and solid arms of a person whose warmth was familiar to her.

She opened her eyes and saw Geto staring back at her. His soft yet concerned gaze truly left her feeling small and vulnerable.

"Suguru-senpai?" Shion blinked.

"Are you okay?" Geto asked, his eyes scanning her face. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm not." She looked away. The intensity of his eyes made her feel weird–like there was an intangible, messy knot in her stomach. She wiggled out of his arms and fixed her uniform.

"I knew you could be reckless, but I didn't think you would risk your life for a book," Geto teased. He pulled the book that Shion had been reaching for and gave it to her.

Shion muttered a small thanks as Geto chuckled softly and ruffled her hair. 

"So, what is it about?" Geto leaned over her shoulder, scanning the cover of the book in her hands.

"It's about curses, and Tsukumo-san recommended it to me," she replied. "That reminds me… What do cursed spirits taste like, senpai? That's how you gain control of them, right? By swallowing them?"

"Yep." Geto pulled back and nodded. "The taste? You're better off not knowing... I'd rather not worry you."

'Poor Suguru-san.' Shion thought.

As took a good look at him, her heart clenched. The soft light coming from the sun by the windows shone on his dull complexion. Exhaustion was evident, and weight loss was evident from his slightly sunken cheeks. There were dark circles under his eyes. His usually styled hair was down and disheveled, and the last time she'd seen him in this state was a few months ago.

‘He's stressed out again.’

“Are you getting enough sleep, senpai?” Shion cupped his cheek, but immediately tried to retract it. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“It's just from the summer heat.” Geto put his hand on Shion’s, keeping it in place on his cheek.

“Still,” Shion breathed, distracting herself from the sudden butterflies in her stomach. “You should look after yourself more, Suguru.”

The boy’s cheeks dusted with a reddish hue as she brushed her thumb against his skin. Oh, crap! She hadn’t meant to call him by his given name! She hoped his reaction wasn’t out of anger at the sudden informality.

Geto hummed in response and leaned further into the palm of her hand, his lips dangerously close to it. “Also, don’t be sorry. I don’t mind this if it’s you…”

They froze, suddenly finding themselves caught up in the moment. A loud cough from the librarian snapped them out of their trace, and Shion removed her hand on Geto's face. They both glanced at the old woman, and the latter's cold and judgemental stare had them feeling embarrassed and guilty for getting caught.

"PDA? In the school’s library?" The librarian crossed her arms, shaking her head. "You youngsters have no shame."

—----------------------------

"Thanks for letting me sleep here, and sorry for the trouble, Iori-san.” Shion said, plopping down on the spare futon. “I'm not comfortable with staying at the Zen’in’s family compound for the duration of my mission here in Kyoto.”

“Don’t be sorry, I too get disgusted at seeing Zen’in.” Utahime gave her a thumbs up. “Besides, I’m pretty sure a special Four Eyes will throw a fit when he finds out I let it happen.”

‘She sure is getting creative with her nicknames for Gojo-senpai.’ 

Shion’s fascination was soon replaced with curiosity. Were Gojo Satoru and Zen’in Naoya on bad terms? As far as she remembered from Tsukumo’s history lessons, their family clans held such bad blood between them that past clan leaders had resorted to killing each other. The current heirs mostly tolerated each other– except for the time when Gojo dropped by for a quick visit during one of Shion’s training sessions with Nanami and Naoya.

“Something on your mind, Zen’in?” Shion asked, wiping her sweat away with a towel. “You’re quiet for once.”

“It’s for the best,” Nanami remarked. “My headaches have lessened because of it.”

“Don’t mind him, Shion-chan.” Gojo said. “He’s going to say something stupid as usual.”

“If we end up against each other in this year’s solo match and I win,” Naoya stood up from his seat. “I’ll take you as my bride whether you like it or not.”

Nanami and Gojo held two different expressions. The blonde sorcerer tried not to show his annoyance towards Naoya. At most, he rolled his eyes as he quietly drank his ice cold water. Meanwhile, Gojo didn’t bother to hide his dislike. The repulsiveness of Naoya’s words was written all over Gojo’s scrunched up face. 

As for Shion, another idea popped into her head.

Before the school exchange event, Naoya kept visiting Shion at school each week and asking for her hand in marriage whenever they sparred. Of course, she declined his proposals as she considered herself to be too young to be engaged and she only saw Naoya as an acquaintance. He insisted her feelings would change, but marriage–with Naoya or anyone– seemed to be impossible for Shion to imagine.

Then again, Tsukumo had often told Shion that a jujutsu sorcerer must have loose screws in their head in order to do this work. Maybe this was Naoya’s own strange way of asking to be friends with her? Or perhaps rivals? The second choice seemed to be more believable with his competitive spirit.

Her teacher did say that competition breeds competence. Afterall, his advances had proved to be useful as she found a big improvement in her reaction time.

"Alright,” Shion pumped her fist with determination, looking stoically at her ‘rival’. “I’ll be looking forward to this year then!” 

“WHAT?!?”

That day, Shion nearly went deaf from Gojo’s loud reaction. At Nanami’s behest, Shion was sent to Watanabe’s office for a quick check up. Nanami thought she had a head injury, which didn’t make sense because Shion was completely fine – no concussion, broken bones or bruises; not even a fever. If anybody needed medical attention, it would be Naoya–who suddenly looked very distressed, his face red coloured, similar to a tomato.

“Speaking of that blue eyed brat,” Utahime glanced at Shion. “Are you up for a gossip session? I won’t talk your ear too much as you have an early day with Zen’in tomorrow.” 

Utahime cracked open a can of beer and poured a cup of apple juice for Shion while the latter pulled out a variety of snacks from her bag. Immediately, the sorceress launched into a series of rants as they munched in between conversations. It ranged from Gojo’s harmless little pranks to headache-inducing moments so painful that Shion was surprised that painkillers still worked on her. 

‘Despite the constant bickering, Utahime-san and Gojo-senpai got along so well...’

The eyepatched girl pinched her brows together. She didn't realize her hands clenched at the thought. Why did that make her uncomfortable? It’s not like she had something worthwhile. Utahime was one of the few sorceresses that Shion got along with. But Gojo? Shion liked to believe that they’d moved past being acquaintances, and sailed towards friendship. But the thought of Gojo also befriending Utahime made her feel strange, to say the least. How come she never got this feeling when she saw him with Shoko?

Could this feeling still be called envy? Or something else? 

“Seriously, what do you even see in that boy?” Utahime scoffed, lazily swirling her can of beer. “He’s annoying, obnoxious, loud, and has bad manners.” 

“In him? I don’t see his internal organs, senpai.”

Utahime stared dumbfoundedly at her friend. If Gojo ended up with an innocent person like Shion, she couldn’t help but worry for the latter’s sake. She had to do something before that annoying clown charmed Shion into becoming his wife--just like that asshole Naoya had nearly pressured her into marrying him.

Besides, she had to win the bet against Mei Mei. The betting pool on Shion’s relationship grew bigger and bigger each week. It came to an absurd amount that it matched the annual salary of a second grade sorcerer, and even Mei mei and Alex had joined in this affair. At least, that was what she caught wind of during a conversation between Gakuganji and Watanabe. It seemed like everyone was speculating about Shion’s love life.

Utahime, suddenly overcome with empathy, pulled Shion into an embrace.

"And that is why you should avoid boys like Gojo! They will take advantage of your naivety!" Utahime pulled away from the hug, hands still on the latter's shoulders. "Instead, why not go for Geto? At least he’s tolerable, unlike his best friend! And he certainly seems fond of you… You have a crush on him, which means you want him to be your boyfriend, right?"

“Boyfriend?”

Despite the sunny weather and the distance between Kyoto and Tokyo, Utahime felt the first blow of cold winter from Gojo’s glare. Strange, that guy wasn’t even here in the first place.

Meanwhile, Riko’s words resurfaced in Shion’s mind. Was that what Riko meant when she asked Shion if she had a crush? Not just admiring someone, but seeing them as more than friends?

According to her romance novels, becoming ‘more than friends’ meant the two parties ended up entering an exclusive relationship if the condition of mutual feelings was met. A relationship where showing affections such as kissing, endearing nicknames, and hand-holding were the standard. A relationship that puts heavy emphasis on intimacy and vulnerability towards each other.

DOES THAT MEAN?!

…

…

…

Shion leaned her head against Suguru's shoulder. “I don’t understand you, Suguru-senpai.”

“What do you mean, Shion?” Geto asked, shifting his position to have his arm draped over Shion’s shoulders and pulling her closer to him. 

“W-well,” Shion cleared her throat, diffident at Geto’s sudden close proximity to her. “I don’t understand what you see in me. I’m not mature like Mei-san or pretty like Ieiri-senpai or cute like Iori-san. Not only my appearance, but my personality is not really ideal-”

Her downplayed ramblings halted when she felt something briefly warm and soft on her cheek. She held her breath nervously before concealed her reaction into her boyfriend’s broad chest.

"But, I’m still here, aren’t I?" Geto laughed at his girlfriend's shyness when he caught a glimpse of the tips of her ears red. "Sorry, too soon for me to kiss you?"

Shion’s brain was all too eager to fantasize about this possibility–which meant Utahime was probably right.

Upon this realization, Shion slammed her head on the wooden table and buried her face onto her arms before producing a banshee-like screech from her throat that forced Utahime to cover her ears. 

“S-Shion?!” 

“I-is that what it's supposed to mean to l-like someone?!” Shion stuttered nervously, the redness on her face couldn’t go any brighter than a ripened tomato. "T-that I-I l- like Su-Suguru-senpai!?”

The eyepatched girl buried her reddened face deeper into her arms and groaned loudly. Everything she felt about that boy clicked in her head. The sudden clamminess of her hands whenever he's in the same room. The sudden acceleration of her temperature whenever he noticed her from a distance. And, the sudden happiness blooming inside her whenever he noticed her.

IT

MADE

SO

MUCH

DAMN

SENSE

This newfound information overwhelmed her. It didn’t help that her heart had begun to beat faster than normal, and her head spun while seeing stars. Wait, was she going to have a full on cardiac arrest if this keeps up?

Meanwhile, a boatload of dumbfoundedness struck Utahime. It was not in her agenda to witness Shion panicking from a sudden existential crisis. Unlike Shoko, whom Utahime had known for two years, Shion was someone she had acquainted herself with not too long ago. Due to her busy work schedule, Utahime never had the proper chance to get to know Shion. She never held much of a strong opinion towards the girl or her for to expect Shion’s current state.

Whenever Utahime visited the Tokyo campus, she always found the girl within the shadows, content to watch from the sidelines, and yet willing to lend an ear if given the time. Because of Shion’s no-nonsense and straightforward outlook, Utahime unintentionally claimed her as her therapist for her mundane problems. To compensate for Shion’s ‘unintentional therapeutic services’, she always brought sweets and snacks from Kyoto. 

Yet seeing how Shion had grown out of her stoic persona and bloomed into a shy flower, Utahime understood why a pair of mean, annoying idiots had taken special interest in her.

Because of the said interest, her maternal instincts kicked in.

This time, it was Utahime’s turn to comfort Shion. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of having a crush on someone,” Utahime said, giving her a few pats on the back.

“How can I not?!” Shion squeezed her eyes shut. “Especially after what happened in the library recently…”

Utahime leaned forward intently. “Tell me more.”

[s-sunnydays]

things left unsaid in artist’s depiction

i dont know if anyone checks this blog since i havent posted, but i guess i could share the things i never got to share since i discontinued artist’s depiction!

also, warning: there are trigger warnings!

iris was the one who reloaded the SAVE file and had gone insane since the mc had died in the fire. she was the one who also caused the accident, but she didn’t mean to; it was supposed to keep the mc from leaving since the machine was really close to being fixed and such.

faye had died at around six to nine years old because she’d gotten too sick and the mc couldn’t afford to enough money to keep her alive or to buy her any sort of medicine.

victor and sierra did run away because they were chased by debtors and all of that since they always messed with the wrong people in their lives. though, they don’t care about that as much, they didn’t want the others to get involved. i didn’t think much about how they died, but i would say that they ended up dying far away and no one knew since the mc couldn’t contact them – lost all contact with them.

sans never liked iris and iris never liked sans, they both just liked the idea of being in a relationship. and, sans gradually learns that iris liked mc the most – the best. even if she treated them horribly

there weren’t any sort of coherent thoughts about how the ending would go, but i assumed that there would be a polyamorous relationship with the mc and the skelebros aus where they could visit the original timeline any time they wanted since the machine and the tear was fixed.

iris’ feelings were never reciprocated

iris was mc’s childhood friend, and learned everything from them – how their life worked, how they had three siblings (never knew about oliver).

the mother ended up dying without oliver knowing – she died from overdosing on medication.

oliver vaguely remembers faye, but doesn’t know about the rest of the siblings. mc never told him until later, where he finds a picture of the other three – he asks why he looks related to victor and sierra and why faye looks so similar to the mc

the mc’s past is eventually revealed by iris or someone else, but other than that, it was basically mutual agreement to tell

the reason why oliver was taken away in the first timeskip was because the mistreatment that the mc had received ended up putting them past their breaking point. and then they started acting like a terrible brother, so they had to let him go – they had to take him to some other place; somewhere where he would be safe.

i have the next chapter, though it is unfinished.

WORK IS TIRING.

You suppose that since Iris pays you to work for her, you’ve been going to your job a lot less — within schedule, at least. Not many days are assigned to you.

“Hey, [Name],” Iris coos from her spot in front of you, sitting at the counter. “Do you wanna go shopping with me and the boys? I’m sure you’ll need something there. It’d the mall, after all! Who wouldn’t want to, like, you know — go shopping with me? I’ll pay for whatever you want.” She sings like a witch—or a siren, depending on the person—and you make a face inwardly.

At first, you would’ve said no. Just a simple no and everything would’ve been fine.

You suppose that no is also not in your vocabulary most of the time.

”…Let me ask my brother,” you mutter in response, pulling out your phone begrudgingly. You send him a message, waiting for his response.

If he says yes, you can only hope that the others don’t start causing problems with him around. You don’t mind the hate, the stares, the faces — just as long he can’t see them; hear them; you’re okay with it. As long as he can’t witness it, it’s fine. That’s all that mattered to you.

——

“Okay~”

Iris looks excited for some reason, but you don’t question it entirely.

You stare at the group of skeletons with a squint of your eyes, wondering where more came from. You should’ve known that the trip to the mall was basically restocking for the rest of the alternates stuck here — though you’re not sure if any of them really need anything. They seem to be more well off than you.

“Malls’re so big!” Your brother whispers to you, stunned by the size of the shopping mall you’re in. You have to agree. “What kind’a stores do they have in here?”

You have to agree with him.

To say that malls are huge is an understatement, you think they’re bigger than most mansions you’ve seen. Then again, you probably just don’t know what malls are like because your mother always told you that they were too expensive and a scam. You always did like sticking to every word she said to you, but that’s in the past. You could care less nowadays.

”I dunno,” you answer honestly. Your eyes scan your surroundings, squinting them when you realize just how large the building is. “Never gone to ‘em either, bro.”

“You haven’t taken your brother to the mall before?” Iris asks loudly, eyes wide with surprise. She glances between you and your brother curiously, obviously shocked — but you don’t even know how she heard you two whispering. It’s not like the others care enough to try and overhear, so why was she trying to be nosy?

Some of the skeletons turn to you, some glance at you, and the rest ignores you (out of pity, you don’t know).

”No,” your brother answers, confused. “We only go to the small ones ‘cause [Name] doesn’t like big stores.”

Well now.

Iris turns to you, frowning at you — you have to say, you don’t know why she’s looking at you like that because it’s not her business — and tells you, “You haven’t taken sweet little Oliver to a mall, [Name]? Shame on you! Malls are great, they have everything you’d need!”

You don’t know how to tell her off without calling her a spoiled brat.

”He already said why I don’t take him to big stores,” you point out, somewhat embarrassed that she had to call you out in front of everyone. “And, uh, malls are expensive… and, y’know, big — he’d get lost.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust your—“

You give her a look of irritation, and for once, the skeletons with you don’t seem too upset about it. Probably because they understand your situation or probably just—the conversation isn’t necessary.

“Are we done?” You don’t care if you interrupt her or get on Sans’ nerves because of it. “If we’re done, I can take Oliver shopping then. See you later, just call me when y—“

And Iris just loves thinking it’s her turn for everything. “We can hang out like old times! You know, when we were in high school together and stuff. Plus,” she shoots you a wink, “we have a lot to catch up on — we haven’t been, like, talking to each other at all! Come on, Sans, let’s go.” You don’t say anything when you see the flickering of his pinpricks or the not-so-subtle glances to your brother from the girl.

You stare at her, narrowing your eyes.

”It can’t be that bad,” your brother tries to soothe your vexation. “‘S okay! Maybe Red ‘n Edge can come with!”

Iris’ face twitches.

Sans’ smile falters. “since when were you buddies with ‘em, kid?”

Red grins widely, almost as if taunting the poor guy. “what’s wrong with bein’ friends wit’ a guy like me? i can come with, i got nothin’ to do anyways… maybe the, uh, boss can come with if he oh so wishes.”

“CAN IT, S—RED,” Edge catches himself and corrects himself. He ignores the looks given and clears his throat. “I SHALL GIFT THE HUMANS WITH MY PRESENCE, SINCE THEY ARE SO DESPERATE TO HANG OUT WITH ME. AND, I AM CURIOUS TO SEE WHAT SORT OF… STORES ARE IN THIS SPECIFIC MALL!”

Your brother shoots you a smile.

You squint your eyes.

Rus puts a hand on your shoulder and nudges Mutt. “‘ey, maybe we can finally get that thing wallet owed me. dunno what it is, but it’s gotta be somethin’.”

“…whatever you say, rus,” Mutt mutters and shrugs his shoulders compliantly. He looks like he just wants to sleep, and you can’t say you blame him. It’s not like you want to be here either, it was obvious that most of the monsters here didn’t want to be here either. You’re sure there’s some other meaning behind it.

”I don’t owe you anything, Rus.”

”sure thing, wallet.”

”They’re not your wallet!”

[fen-the-space-dragon]

Middlepaw info dump cuz I’m bored. No, this will not be well organized. I’m tired and don’t have the energy to organize and also just remembered I gotta do Duolingo, but really don’t wanna… so if I mysteriously disappear, you know why. Anyways, sorry if this is rambly and/or doesn’t make any sense… I may or may not fix it later if needed

- They crave attention because they often don’t recieve a lot of it. Because they haven’t recieved much of it, tho, they aren’t too great at interacting with others… so instead of just talking to cats to get attention, they do some interesting things. Example: approaching Milkwail (quitedisasterous’ character. I absolutely love Milkwail <33) in hopes of being punted because being punted is a form of attention and any attention is good attention (spoiler: this plan failed, but in the best way possible)

- When they do get attention, they have no clue what to do with it. Social situations are not their specialty

- To make up for the lack of interacting with cats, they tend to interact with inanimate objects instead. Rocks, sticks, leaves, whatever. They’ll also just talk to nothing while staring off into the void of time and space. They have like full on convos like this and have specific objects that are their close friends. They tend to keep these ones stashed in hiding places around the territory so that others don’t accidentally mess with them or something not realizing that they have importance. (one of Middlepaw’s favorites is their emotional support shedded snake skin named Jerry. Why is it named Jerry? Cuz I said so. I really don’t know. They keep Jerry extra well hidden compared to the others)

- Middlepaw is very nonconfrontational. For example, if someone were to find one of their object friends and messed with it in some way, they wouldn’t be happy about it, but wouldn’t do anything. They’d probably just watch from a distance and be really tense the whole time and then go find it a new hiding spot the moment the cat left (btw, by “not happy,” I mean like worried, not mad. They understand that these are just objects to everyone else and don’t blame others for not seeing these things the same way they do)

- They talk to themselves and also objects and stuff and they do so both out loud and in their head, so sometimes they mix the two up… meaning they’ll occasionally talk to a cat and accidentally say things in their head and just be staring at the cat waiting for a response to something they never actually said

- They did have a family (parents and two siblings), but they just kinda disappeared one day. I’m still working out the details on this, kinda wanna wait until more canon lore about Mommyclan history comes out before I set the specifics in stone. Middlepaw has a vague idea of what happened to them, but that’s probably about the most info anyone has. Middlepaw also just kinda tried to pretend nothing had happened. This is all subject to change tho. I’ll prob make another post about this once I solidify the details and stuff. Or maybe not, idk. We’ll see

- They’re 10 moons old

- Uhhhhhhhh… more fun facts…. Middlepaw loves mints. They found one once and absolutely loved it

Aaand that’s all I can think of rn. I might do another later if I think of more stuff idk. If you read this, thank you! I appreciate your interest in my ‘lil cat ^^

[valyalyon]

June 2022

This is the month before Dolores leaves Phoenix to move to Kansas. Tomorrow I will be posting the July 2022 post, where we'll get to see some very important events leading to the end of Dolores and J's relationship. Not crazy explicit, but another potentially dub con situation so read with caution. Below for more Dreams, Ink and Embers.

DIE MASTER LIST OR #LYONDIE

June 16, 2022.

Today, Julius and I have been together for 46 months! We are so close to 4 years...

CW: Sexually explicit content, explicit language and vague dub con. Cheating. MDNI.

...I’ve never been happier and I feel so at peace. We keep jumping from strength to strength.

We moved out from our respective places and moved into a house that we shared with another couple.

It feels really fun to be living with him. I feel like I have a best friend and a lover at all times. Anyway, no idea what he’s planning for today.

“This is so cute, Julius,” I said, swooning as we came up the stairs of a building onto the roof top.

Everything was already set up for us, a beautiful table in the middle with two chairs and silverware, rose petals scattered the floor, and there was a candle on the table.

It was honestly so cute, and I had no idea where this was going.

I hoped it was more than just a dinner, I’ll admit that. I hadn’t been pestering him but he seemed more ready than ever to propose.

Still, I kept my hopes low and just enjoyed the night for what it was: a cute, romantic dinner with a beautiful view of Phoenix at night.

We each had chicken dishes, along with potatoes, and rice. I drank vodka with OJ, pineapple juice, and more vodka.

After a while of laughing, this conversation started.

“I know we’ve talked about marriage before but, lately I’ve really had it on my mind. Living with you has been honestly the best…” he said, and then he paused for a second.

Oh, hello love, for you, I have so many words. But I, I forget where we were…

I looked at him, eyebrows furrowed slightly in cute confusion. He always said I looked like a little rabbit.

“You okay, Tough Man?” I asked confused.

“Yeah, sorry… I lost my train of thought with that one. I think I just meant to say that I know I want to be with you forever, Dolores.”

I smiled and kissed him, “I want to be with you forever, Julius…”

Julius smiled for a second, and then kissed me again, “I think you’d make an amazing mother and a wife I just wouldn’t deserve, too sweet and too perfect for me.”

“I’ve been so happy, lately, Julius… You’ve changed me so much since we met,” I played with his beard a little, and smiled as I looked into his dark eyes.

“These last few months are the happiest I’ve been in years and since I met you I have grown and learned so much,” he told me, standing to give me a hug.

We shared a tight hug and I couldn’t help but laugh, “you always squeeze me like you wanna pop me.”

“I’d love to drink whatever comes out of you when you pop,” he kissed me and then we returned to our seats to finish dinner.

I remember feeling so sad that he hadn’t proposed to me that day, and of course years later, I’d find out that he had been planning to propose on our 4 year anniversary.

June 18, 2022

A few days after the dinner, Julius invited some of his friends to come with us to Arizona Wonderspaces in Scottsdale. The two friends, Charlie and Owen, both lived on the way to the event space, so Julius agreed to pick them up.

It was pretty much universally agreed: everyone would be getting stoned in the parking lot of Wonderspaces and then we’d make an appearance and interact with the art experience.

What I wasn’t planning on though was everything starting to get derailed.

After we arrived, after we had smoked, Julius looked up from his phone and said, “Raphael said he’s pulling up right now.”

“Raphael is coming?” I asked, confused and beginning to rub my temples. As an introvert, I was already going out of my way so much that day, and now Raphael was going to be there too.

I was less than amused.

“Yeah… I’m sorry, I did forget to tell you. Wanna keep smoking a little longer?” Julius tried to make it up to me.

“Yes please… Give me two minutes and I’ll catch up with you guys,” I felt so bad but I was a very anxious person and I needed to be prepared in advance for events and people.

Julius gave me a sweet kiss on the lips, and then turned to Charlie and Owen, “let’s start walking boys. Slow though, she’s got little legs.”

He got out of the car with his friends, and I stayed smoking. I took another 7-9 deep puffs of smoke, and let them out slow but completely.

I caught up with the boys, clung onto J’s arm as we approached the part of the mall the experience was in. Right outside, Raphael stood waiting. He turned to greet us, and went right for Julius and the boys first.

“Dude, you have the tickets… I’ve been standing here like a fucking criminal…” Raphael told Julius, giving him a hug.

He greeted Charlie and Owen casually with hand shakes, and a typical, “lookin’ strong dude” to each one.

I was bored out of my mind, wondering why we were in a queue and when I would get to start seeing pretty lights. I was so stoned and already had an airpod in to disappear during the experience.

Raphael finished his introductions to the boys, Julius had circled back to stand beside me by now but was distracted talking to Charlie and Owen.

In this one second with Julius and his friends occupied, Raphael took my hand and kissed it. I remember thinking it was inappropriate, and trying to focus my attention on his eyes to voice my discomfort.

That was the only thing, I hadn’t ever looked into his eyes until that moment and maybe being stoned added to it, but the memories came flooding back in. Dreams of love with a man named R. The love was harsh, cruel, and possessive. It was all encompassing, it was powerful beyond words.

But it was scary and dangerous and unstable. Nothing would be promised, nothing ever could be promised with R.

As our eyes met, Raphael smiled at me, and his eyes looked so confident. All he said to me was, “So happy to finally meet you.”

I immediately got mad.

Raphael and I had met and been around each other numerous times. I pulled my hand from his, annoyed, and turned my attention to Julius, who was already turning to me.

“I hate this guy, can you stand in between us?” I gave my biggest puppy dog eyes to Julius without really meaning to.

Julius looked at Raphael and started to laugh, “you can’t pretend not to know the Princess.”

I honestly tuned out their conversations after that, moving to the back of the group and listening to music while we wandered through each exhibit.

Raphael, Owen, and Charlie had all decided to get drinks from the bar, and when we met up with them again we were in the coolest mirror-light exhibit I had seen in a while.

Julius met up with them while I wandered aimlessly down the aisle in view of him. I was pretty fucking stoned and having a really nice time by then. The lights are still and luminescent, the energy is just electric.

See, since I had remembered the R dreams, I found it incredibly hard to breathe. My heart was racing, my face and body were hot. I was trying to maintain my distance from Raphael, just because I did not want to interact with him.

They ended up coming towards me and I noticed that each one of them was carrying 2 drinks. They had bought 6 drinks. From the looks of it, too, both drinks were just several shots of whiskey or bourbon.

I tried to focus on the conversation to see what they were saying, still shifting along the floor and glancing at the reflections, the lights…

“Honestly, Ralph, that’s just messed up. Did you at least pay for it?” Julius asked him, and then grabbed me by the arm pulling me to him.

I spun and landed in his arms, Julius held me in place and I looked up to see Raphael standing a couple feet in front of us. Again, his dark eyes were glued onto my eyes.

He pulled his eyes away and turned his attention back to Julius, responding with, “yeah, man, why wouldn’t I? You think I’m broke?” Raphael sounded kind of angry all of a sudden.

Julius laughed and turned to give me a kiss. I kissed him and held his face, “can we go into the next exhibit?”

“Of course, Dolly,” Julius said with a smile and gave me another kiss.

In this next room, though, there were red lights hung on thin chords, with glowing white lights in between them. We went in a line, I was first, then Julius, Owen, Charlie, and Raphael.

Eventually, though, maybe overcome by all the darkness and the floating lights, and all highly intoxicated in one way or another; the line broke apart.

I didn’t notice it immediately, too engulfed in the lights. So, when I felt the hot hands touch my shoulders, I whispered, “Julius…”

Am I not the one you’re dreaming of, my angel?

I was wearing a pink dress. It was delicate, his hands start to lift the dress up my thigh. One hand holds up the front of the dress, the other grips my neck.

His hand moves down to my panties, and he touches me along my clit. He knows my body so well… Like he’s known it for so many years…

His mouth comes to my neck and he gives me a kiss. It’s wet and hot, and I’m trembling against his touch.

The lights are dazzling me, and I start moaning, “kiss me… kiss…” I was turning towards him quickly reaching up to wrap my arms around him.

He was pulling me in by the waist when I met his eyes.

If our love is so wrong, tell me, why does it feel so right?

Those weren’t my J’s eyes. Staring back at me was Raphael, his arms wrapped around my waist, and his eyes focused on mine.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“You okay, Lola?” Raphael asked me, letting me go.

“Why would you do that, Raphael?” I asked, my voice getting annoyed so fast. “I’m going to tell Julius.”

“Are you?” Raphael asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” I said, crossing my arms.

“Okay, do you mind if I tell him about you and this little skirt?” Raphael’s voice was dark and stern.

“My outfit doesn’t mean anything, you pervert,” I replied very angrily, wanting to get away from him before I started to scream at him.

“That’s not necessarily what I mean… That skirt came up pretty easy for a man that isn’t your man,” Raphael stood nearby, blocking me into this little space I’d wandered into.

He felt like a wild predator. He was a Lion, a hunter stalking it’s prey. He made me furious, he scared me, I wanted to kick him.

“Maybe because I thought it was my man,” I was exacerbated and didn’t want to get angrier with him, so I looked him in the eye, and said very forcefully, “take me back to Julius.”

“What if I didn’t?” Raphael asked, crossing his arms and leaning into look at me.

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down, shaking him, “Take me now! The next time I reach for you, I’ll be grabbing your hair and tearing it out.”

He laughed but grabbed my wrist and took me back to the group. It hadn’t even been three minutes, nobody noticed we were gone.

In another room, there were these silver balloons in the center of the room. Around the room, on all of the walls and the floors and ceiling, were rings within rings within rings. Just a circular, particle filled repeating pattern. It was hypnotizing.

I stood beside Julius on one side of the room, the two of us talking and laughing together. I’m not sure where his friends were, or if there were cameras in the experience, but Julius started to kiss and touch me.

I moaned against his kisses, trying to push out of mind what happened with Raphael. As he touched me though, as we kissed, I noticed that Raphael was staring at me.

Those dark eyes were burning, they looked angry, staring from across the room. I remember thinking to myself that he seemed set on destroying the life his best friend was creating and I wondered if it was jealousy.

I closed my eyes, and continued to focus on Julius and our relationship.

Although, now there was a thought burning in my mind. What were the R dreams? And why did Raphael look so much like the man in those dreams?

SONG REFERENCE I Forget Where We Were by Ben Howard Meet Me in the City by Lord Huron

[bee-whistler]

I’m quietly incensed. I went looking through my documents and found an untitled one. So I opened it and found something I only barely remember I might have written and have no idea why or where I intended to go with it.

Plagiarism checker said it was 100% unique. So I guess I wrote it. I have decided you get to suffer, too.

Here it is, unedited because danged if I know what the goal was:

It’s a precious difficult thing for a man to make his way in this weary world, especially when he has expectations of life that never seem to come to pass. I’ve learned my lesson again and again that you can’t get something for nothing.

Yet still I try.

“How goes the day, Betty girl?” I asked for the hundredth time as I entered the lobby. “I’d like your best room and a kiss, but I’ll settle for the time of day.”

Betty was a flirt. She’d mince and bat her eyelashes but not so much as give me her hand to kiss. I asked her the same thing each time I came into the hotel, and each time she’d wink and walk away. It hadn’t worked before and I didn’t expect it would again. I do get tired of being wrong.

“You can have all three, my lad,” she whispered over the desk.

“Well, then!” I gasped. “Which shall it be first?”

“The time of day. Five o’clock.”

“It’s never five o’clock!”

“It will be when you return!” she hissed.

“So it’s a date, then?” I asked coyly.

She smiled. “Just a time. Five o’clock today, come in here and ask for your key. It’ll be under the name of Roy G. Biv.”

I snorted and she frowned.

“I’m in earnest!” she whispered irritably.

“Betty, my lass, I may ask for a room but you know I can’t pay for one! Just ask the good for nothing head clerk.”

“Ah, but that’s the secret… the clerk had the fits and no one knows yet but me!”

“I have no wish to get you dismissed from your position…”

“If all goes well, I won’t need it after tonight! This is a business venture. We can leave here well set up if you play it right, my lad.”

“We?”

“Yes! And then and only then will you get the kiss.”

I did want the kiss. I was not sure I wanted to be well set up with Betty. But if the venture was as lucrative as she hinted, I could part ways with her later without batting an eyelash. I might even leave her a share of the take. 

“Five o’clock, then. Roy G. Biv. Whatever sort of name is it, though?”

“I don’t know but he’s kept a room here since before I started working in this fleabag hotel, and yet he’s never set a toe inside it! But parcels come for him and others retrieve them. I have ventured a peek more than once and some of those bundles contain money, gold, jewels… Surely the others do as well! We need but one in order to be able to leave this crummy hotel job and never have to bamboozle anyone again in order to keep body and soul together.”

He enjoyed bamboozling people. Still, keeping body and soul together was a lifelong pastime he had no desire to terminate, and this promised to make it easier for a time.

Edit before posting: I have also vaguely remembered some kind of writing challenge where you’re supposed to have used “Roy G. Biv” as a name? Steampunk related, I’m almost positive. Anyway, there it is, sometimes I write stuff. Main character sounds like an a-hole.

[steppingstonesuniverseguide]

One More Step Out of the Pit: Chapter 11/26

Summary: It had been Tommy and Tubbo for practically forever. They clawed their way out of hell together. They discovered their superpowers together. They started working for the Superhero Guild together before even coming of age. Tommy probably owed Tubbo his life ten times over. So, when the three supervillains he'd been assigned to bring in managed to take Tubbo hostage, well, there was really only one thing to do.

He knew, of course, he was signing himself up for torture and death by offering that trade, but that was okay.

It'd have to be okay.

AO3 Link (See AO3 for Warnings.)

(This story is finished and has been posted on AO3 for a while, but I'm posting it on Tumblr so it's somewhere else too (considering the day AO3 was down a bit ago). The author notes will all be kept as well. If you are following the blog and don't want to see these posts, block the tag #backlog.)

“More tea?” Wilbur asked, leaning against the counter, and watching as his dad bustled around the kitchen. He’d taken dinner to the kid a couple of hours ago and was just resurfacing now. “You know he doesn’t have strep, right?”

“He likes the tea,” Phil defended.

“He probably just wants you to forget about the thermos one of these times so he can have a weapon.”

Phil shrugged, unconcerned. “That may be part of it too,” he conceded, “but he definitely also likes the tea. You should have seen his face light up. Anyway, it’s good to keep fluids down him.”

“Mmm,” Wilbur agreed.

“Anyway, I should probably be getting this too him,” he said, screwing the lid back on.

“You know, you can leave him alone for more than 5 minutes at a time, right?” Wilbur asked.

Phil paused for a moment. “I just… he’s…”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “At least actually go to bed tonight,” he said. “You didn’t sleep at all last night. You don’t want to fall asleep in the same room as a captured hero.” Phil did not seem to like that idea and Wilbur rolled his eyes harder. “I’ll watch him through the night, how about that?”

Phil pursed his lips, giving him a very skeptical dad look.

“No light torture, I promise,” Wilbur swore. The skeptical look did not leave. “At least not until he’s healed up,” and also stopped looking at Will like… that. The caveat on his promise seemed to soothe Phil’s distrust.

“Fine,” he agreed. “I am a bit tired.”

Wilbur smiled. “I’ll tell him all about the weeds.”

Phil reached over to pinch his arm. “You are not too old to ground,” he threatened.

“I am way too old to ground,” Wilbur laughed.

“Not to me,” Phil said. “I’m still your dad.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will said. “Go take the gremlin his tea. It better be decaf because he’s a lot more tolerable asleep than awake and jacked up on caffeine.”

“It’s just tea, he’ll be fine,” Phil said, pressing a kiss to Wilbur’s forehead before walking out of the room.

Oh god, the kid was going to be a nightmare tonight.

Sighing at his father’s foolishness, he left the kitchen and headed to his room. He frowned when he opened the door. His room had gotten a lot messier as of late, not that he was a particularly organized person to begin with (unlike Technoblade). Random things were strewn about and there was a pile of bags he vaguely remembered the contents of stacked near his closet. He should clean up soon.

He sat on his bed and grabbed his guitar from its designated spot near his nightstand. He idly began to strum a tune. His guitar playing was unrelated to his powers. They worked just as well without it and he had perfect pitch, so he didn’t need any help getting the right notes. He just liked it.

There was a knock on his door a few minutes later, and by process of elimination, he knew who it must be.

“It’s open,” he said, continuing to play.

Technoblade opened the door and stepped inside his room. His face scrunched up an almost indiscernible amount at the mess that was Wilbur’s room, but then he returned his attention to Wilbur. “You’re not singing,” he commented.

“Didn’t feel like it,” he replied, sliding his fingers and shifting from playing a tune in D major to B flat just to give himself something slightly harder to concentrate on.

“You?” Techno asked. Wilbur didn’t reply. “Are you brooding?” There was a tinge of amusement in his voice. “I thought that was more of an angsty superhero thing.” Wilbur just shrugged. “Of course,” he continued. “Phil does it too. Maybe it’s just a your bloodline thing. He usually does his on top of buildings though.”

“Mmm,” Wilbur replied.

He was focusing on his fingers instead of looking at his brother, but he could see Techno staring at him out of the corner of his eye. After about a minute, he finally sighed, picking his way over the objects scattered across the floor to the bed. He sat down on it hard, causing Wilbur to mess up a chord. He stopped playing and looked up to glare, but Techno was busy shifting on the bed. He pulled the guitar out of the way as Techno flopped his head into his lap.

The guitar was set aside immediately in favor of fiddling with the end of the braid now in his lap, taking out the hairband that had kept it in place all day, and starting to unweave it carefully. He would have been able to tell Techno had done it himself today even if he wasn’t fully aware that Phil had been preoccupied with Tommy. Phil was right-handed and Techno left, not to mention Techno had to do it on himself, so the braids always had slight, but distinct differences. Once the braid was unraveled completely, he ran his hands through the hair a few times to get it nice and poofy, letting it fall all over the bed and his lap. It was as delightfully silky soft as it always was.

Baby, his mind supplied looking down at him, his soft hair all around him and his features soft. There were literally only two people who ever saw him in such a state, and it was a privilege Wilbur had worked very hard for. Baby brother, his mind cooed. My baby brother. He knew, of course, saying anything to that extent out loud would change the mood of the situation entirely and, while that could be fun on occasion, right now he liked the gentle calm. So, instead, he contented himself with burying his fingers in Techno’s freed hair.

“You’ve been weird,” Techno stated with a frown. “Why?”

Wilbur blinked at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Techno squinted up at him seeming to consider where to start. He glanced to the side and reached over to pick up a stuffed bear that had fallen near Wilbur’s knee. He looked at it for a moment. “You got every stuffed animal from your childhood down from the attic.”

“Our childhood,” Wilbur corrected.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Wilbur leaned down over him, his voice on the edge of threatening. “I know for a fact you still sleep with a stuffed polar bear, Technoblade, and I have pictures. I can show Phil.”

Techno grimaced. “Our childhood.” Will smiled victoriously. The glare on Techno’s face told him he was toeing the line between gentle banter and being beaten with a pillow until he begged for mercy thrice, so he wisely did not push any further than that, instead smoothing a strand of hair behind his ear. “No, but serious, why?” Techno asked, picking up another stuffed animal to look at it. “I don’t even recognize this one.”

That was because… he’d bought it two weeks ago. He’d seen it in a shop window and the next thing he’d know, he was leaving the shop, plastic bag in hand and bee plushy gone from the store window. Wilbur just shrugged and Techno dropped it back onto the bed.

“Are you… is this a jealousy thing?” Techno hedged.

Wilbur furrowed his brow. “What? No.”

Techno stared at him searchingly for a few moments. “It’s okay if it is,” he said slowly.

“It’s not. Why would you think…?”

“Wilbur,” Techno said, “Phil’s been in there with the kid for, like, 30 hours at this point, and you can be… overprotective of Phil.” Possessive, Wilbur filled in. Wilbur could be a bit possessive of people and things. It had always been a thing with him, and it had only gotten worse as he grew older. He did his best to not let it go wild most of the time when it came to people. It was easy with Techno who was basically uninterested in people who were not Phil or Wilbur, but Phil always had a soft heart and a charming personality. Phil liked people and it was sometimes hard not to let jealousy curl in his chest if Wilbur felt like he wasn’t getting attention. It made sense that Techno would expect that of him now that he thought about it.

The thing was… “No, I’m not jealous of the gremlin.” He wasn’t actually sure why now that Techno had brought it up. It was almost weird that he wasn’t. “He, uh,” Wilbur twisted a strand of hair around his index finger, “I think he needs the attention.”

“You hate him,” Techno reminded with a frown.

Wilbur let the captured hair fall back into the pile. “I don’t.”

“What do you mean you don’t?” Techno asked. “Do you know how many hours I’ve had to sit and listen to you rant about how much you hate him.”

“Things change,” Wilbur said, defensively.

“How? When?”

“When I took off his mask, I guess,” Wilbur said.

“This is about the fact that he has a baby face?” Techno asked. “Wilbur, I’ve been trying to convince you for months he’s not all that bad-”

“Yeah well, your standards are literally doesn’t immediately go for murder,” Wilbur said under his breath.

“-and the fact that he looks 12 is what convinces you not to despise him?”

“16,” Wilbur corrected automatically.

“Yeah, sure whatever,” Techno said. “He looks young, so?”

“It wasn’t just that,” Wilbur said.

“Then what.”

“He… he was afraid.”

“Didn’t you… want him to be afraid? You kept going on about how much you wanted him to ‘suffer for what he’s done’ and all of that.”

“Sure, but it’s not fun if he’s actually scared.”

Techno stared up at him with a confused expression on his face. “That makes no sense.”

Wilbur flicked his ear, “It does so, shut up.”

Techno narrowed his eyes at the ear flick. “I’ve known you for over 18 years, and I still don’t understand you at all.”

Wilbur just rolled his eyes and went back to playing with his hair.

“You know there are different types of fear,” he said, and Techno arched a brow at him, wondering where he was going with that statement. “I’ve seen a lot of people when they’re scared and there are so many ways they can be. They all have different flavors to them, mean different things. He… he reminded me of you. Not in personality or anything obviously. It’s just…” he trailed off for a moment before continuing. “Do you remember back in the trainyard that couple of years or so between you revealing you could actually talk to Phil and telling him about your powers?” Wilbur’s hand continued petting Techno’s hair even while his mind drifted to another time and place.

“Yes,” Techno said, a question in his voice.

“You were wild back then, but not a wild as Phil probably thought. I could tell a lot of the things he probably saw as irrational or instinct were actually well thought out plans. There were some days, especially near the beginning, where you’d just be unmanageable. You’d say mean things and throw stuff at him. You never did lick him, but you did threaten to cut his hand off once which is basically the Technoblade equivalent.”

“…Did… did the kid lick you, Wilbur?”

“The point is,” Wilbur said. “You did all of those things, but they weren’t for no reason. It was a test. You wanted to see where the lines were, when he’d lash out, when you’d get hurt. He never would have hurt you, but you didn’t know that.” He blinked away the memories, pulling himself back into the current moment where his baby brother laid with his head in Wilbur’s lap. “Tommy tested me,” Wilbur said. “He called me ugly and threw a paper cup at my head.”

“And licked you?”

“I could see it in his eyes. It was a test. Just like what you did with Phil back then.” He ran his fingers through Techno’s hair again, picking it up slightly only to drop it so it fluttered back onto his lap. “So, no I don’t hate him. How am I supposed to hate someone when he reminds me of you?”

There was a pause. “Sappy.”

“Technoblade, I am trying to have a moment with you here.”

“L.”

Alright. Fine. He leaned down close to Technoblade’s face and smacked a messy kiss to his forehead. There was already murder in his eyes before Wilbur said. “Aw, little brother, are you throwing a baby tantrum because you can’t deal with my love.”

His expression was eerily calm when he said. “Take it back now and I will only take 20 minutes to murder you instead of drawing it out as long as physically possible.”

“Never.”

Author Note:

o7 to Wilbur. He will be missed. Guess we'll only have 3/4 for the rest of the fic.

The next two chapters are a couple of my favorites.

[lightning-writes]

good heart (faulty machine of a man) - 6/30

fic summary: bucky meets someone at therapy

chapter summary: he'll admit to some things but not others

word count: 634

tags: brotp: sam x bucky (brotp used loosely), post endgame, pre tfatws, hurt/comfort, slow burn, canon divergent, canon compliant, au

warnings: character death mentioned

a/n: please give this fic some love on ao3!

AO3 MASTERLIST X

October 7

(He’ll admit it – he likes to see Rue.)

Changing his sessions to be the last of the day has many benefits. It frees up his day. It eases him to see the lobby’s crowd thin and the waiting room empty. He knows there’s only one other therapist that stays this late, and he thinks Raynor is dating them.

Seeing Rue has become the added bonus.

(And the way she preens for her Friday nights.)

Rue is different by the end of the day. A little less formal, a little more relaxed. Right before his session, she’d release her hair from its usual updo, shaking it from the roots, and sighing with satisfaction. Or she’d do a long stretch over her head, really leaning into it, sometimes revealing the thin strip of the tattoo on her stomach.

“You got any weekend plans?”

He fights his wariness of her question. She’s being polite, cordial. She isn’t tracking him. She isn’t some secret agent.

She’s using her phone as a mirror as she puts on lipstick. It’s a dark, bruising color. She glances at him expectantly.

“Yeah, going to a bar.” He tries to sound casual and not at all lying.

“Cool. Meeting any friends?”

He takes a beat too long to say, “Sure.”

“Sounds fun.” He notices that she has a knack of sounding neutral. He wonders if that’s a trick of the trade or her way of being professional. “I’m meeting up with a few friends, too, but I really want a night in.”

“Then don’t go?”

“But I’d feel bad,” she pouts. He sees the line between her lipstick and her inner lip. The line between professional and unprofessional Ruby. “I’ll never go if I give in to my gremlin brain.”

“Gremlin brain?” He’s trying to laugh at her, and she notices.

She chuckles sheepishly, “Yeah, the part of my brain that just wants to be a hermit. Feeling uncomfortable is the tax we pay to keep people we want in our lives, I guess.” She shrugs, clicking her lipstick shut.

(Later that night, Bucky remembers this and thinks it’s an odd thing for her to say.)

“I hope it’s better than you're expecting,” he finally says. Her eyes flit to him, studying him. “You never know, you might have a good time.”

“Maybe.” Her eyes linger on him too long. His ears burn pink. She seems to be deciding something but never gets the chance to execute.

Raynor’s door opens, and Bucky gives Rue a nod before walking into the office.

////

Autumn and the cold always makes Bucky’s arm hurt. He’s pretty sure it’s a phantom limb thing or a figment of his imagination. After all, his arm is vibranium. 

(He wonders if his body remembers being thrown from that train, his body a heap of limb in the snow. Or maybe his body remembers every time his brain had been wiped and fried before cryo-freeze.)   

He considers contacting Shuri but feels weird about calling the young princess. Maybe King T’Challa? Or Ayo… He’s almost positive they can fix whatever the issue is remotely, knowing they have some sort of tracker embedded in his arm.

(Gifts aren’t always free.)

He’s sure sleeping on the wooden floors of his old, creaky Brooklyn apartment isn’t helping. His bed is… too soft. It’s a regular mattress, not particularly fluffy bedding, and still, it feels… off. Wrong. He can’t stay alert when he’s in there.

(He’s vaguely aware that the idea of alertness while he’s sleeping is probably the reason he’s unrested all of the time. He’s also aware that being uncomfortable keeps the nightmares away… mostly.)

His phone vibrates noisily next to him.

Wellness check, the message pops up on his screen.

He turns to his side, resting uncomfortably on his prosthetic, and slides the phone across the room. The skittering sound of plastic and glass on the wood is oddly satisfying to him.

“Fuck off,” he mumbles to his empty apartment.

[oracleofsecrets]

More crafting chronicles {long post incoming}

I’ve had an idea for a while to make a little Navi (plain amigurumi didn’t seem Cool Enough) but I wasn’t sure how to do it until I got more into embroidery

The idea process and early development went kinda like:

yarn pompom body ->

wings done in wire work to be cut out ->

how attach?? Even if I got the wings somehow secured to the Pom the whole thing wouldn’t sit or hang upright ->

sew Pom to fabric instead then ->

Fabric being attached to can go in a 4x6 frame I forgot to return bc it didn’t show All 4x6 of whatever you put inside

So then came the Experimentation Phase

I wanted to see if there was any way to make the pompom with a gradient effect (white to bluish). The answer is not rrrealllyy? At least for how I want the gradient to Look (all around and not just on One hemisphere). I was also using a clothespin to make the Pom so that might have something to do with it…

Next trial was white yarn + dusting it with blue eyeshadow on the outer parts as I wrapped it. This did kinda work but the effect was lost after trimming (I did not realize how much trimming is necessary)

I did however spread the color all around to make it a nice light blue and spent like an hour combing it to be fluffy. Too bad I wrecked it days later trying to see if I could wipe off some of the makeup for a gradient…

Then I wasn’t sure what to sew it Onto since I don’t have a wide variety of fabrics to choose from. I did have a plain white cotton quarter that I went with, but I also didn’t want to embroider an entire background bc I want to give this to my brother for chrimbus

I remember seeing some posts in the embroidery Reddit about painting the parts of an embroidery you couldn’t/didn’t finish so I was like cool I’ll just do that for the background (hubris). Did a quick test on scrap fabric to make sure I could embroider through it without the dried paint like crusting all over the thread or something

That worked, so then I had to figure out how to paint for reals. I have not painted a full/original image since probably middle school art class. And all I have are cheap kiddie acrylic paints from Michael’s lol

Made a swatch matrix thing to get an idea of what basic combos/ratios of colors will result in. This is my first draft for testing mixing and how to fill up the space that’ll be in the picture frame. Mostly used sponges bc I’m just going for a vague bg reminiscent of n64 kokiri forest

Not bad, not great for an amateur first go ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Then p much right after, I worked on the for Reals version that I’m much prouder of. I remembered to use the cyan-ish green paint for mixing and actually used a brush lol. And tried what I assume are basic painting techniques (cover area fully with a dark or mid tone color, then layer on lighter shades and potentially go back to some of the darker shades again for details)

The next day I did some final details—adding some dark green to the grass and making sparklies. Made those of holo face highlighter liquid mixed with metallic gold and metallic teal paints respectively, and “painted” them using the top of a knitting needle. I think I might’ve taken this after spraying a little sealer on it

I made a new pompom out of white yarn with the fork method but I haven’t cut the loops yet bc I wanted to borrow some lighter blue eyeshadow from my sister to dust with. But she’s all “nooo I had an allergic reaction or it gave me conjunctivitis so you can’t use it for arts and crafts”. So no photo of the Pom since it’s unfinished

Got started on the wings as well! I’m making it out of iridescent organza

Used my new UST projector and my previous Pom to get the right proportions on some game arts to trace the wings onto stabilizer (well, onto a junk mail envelope then onto stabilizer folded in half for perfect mirror copy)

I have 26? Or 28 gauge wire that’s teal ish, which is nice bc I’m working with shiny floss that doesn’t hold its shape the same as cotton floss so there are gaps between my buttonhole stitches securing the wire. Felt like I didn’t really get into the hang of a consistent buttonhole until the end of the strand (top of the shape). At least I’ll get in plenty of practice on these bottom wings before starting the top wings

Also this hoop is super nice. It’s one of those plastic ones with a metal ring you squeeze like a hand exerciser thing to fit into the inner groove of the plastic. I couldn’t figure it out when I’d tried it a while ago with like regular-density fabric, but it’s perfect for how thin the organza is. I couldn’t get it evenly tensioned with the wood hoops I had bc it would slip through the tiny irregularities in the wood shape

The backside better shows the thread color :3 also probably the neatest back side I’ve ever done, out of necessity. I hope it’ll cut out well… I’m worried it’ll get messed up bc of how thin the fabric is :/ or if I’ll be able to tear away the stabilizer without messing up the stitching either…

[skittlesfics]

name: company ink pairing: Argyle x Reader word count: 3010 summary: During a bad shift at the pizza shop, Argyle offers to smoke you out. contents/warnings: tits, weed usage, vague descriptions of being high, tagged smut for sexual content but no actual sex, mostly fluff author's note: okay I was going to post the request, and then I remembered this idea kicking around and I had to get it out. Something the tiniest bit spicier, may be potential for a part two read part 2 here

- You huffed as you hung up the phone, yet another irate customer yelling about prices that you had zero control over. Some days you had a lot of fun at this job, and others you were this close to throwing in your thematic Hawaiian shirt and visor for something less soul-sucking.

“That’s not the happy face I’m looking for.” Argyle popped into view from around the corner as if to remind you of why you stayed at this place, his empty delivery bag dangling from one shoulder as he returned from the most recent round of deliveries. He was lucky; another driver had just taken the newest stack, leaving him an actual break from driving for once. You wrinkled your nose at him and leaned back against the wall, your head hitting the shitty bulletin board with more force than you had intended.

“Don’t give me that ‘smile’ bullshit today, Argyle, I’ll scream.” You said, closing your eyes against the impending stress headache. The regret set in immediately. You felt gross, snapping at your one work friend like that, but you were just about at your limit, and you didn’t need anyone prodding at you further. Not even your cute coworker who occasionally sold you weed.

“Whoa, man.” You heard Argyle’s footsteps and thought he was leaving, but just as quickly as they receded, they returned, coming towards you behind the counter now.

“Need a smoke? I’m out of purple palm tree delight, but I scored some black triangle kush that’ll get you real mellow.” He sounded about as concerned as Argyle was capable of, which only made you feel more guilty for snapping at him. You pressed your lips together, opening your eyes to see the dark-haired boy looking at you with genuine concern. Fuck.

“It’s just been a rough day, I’m sorry. I’ll be okay. I honestly don’t have the spare cash for weed right now.” You normally used your tips to get enough weed from Argyle to make it through the rough days, but your last few shifts had been pretty stingy and you had your half of an electric bill to worry about this week.

Argyle’s brow knitted together thoughtfully, and you swallowed a thought about how adorable he was when he tried to think, especially when he was already toasted.

“I could smoke you out, if you wanna take your break now. We’re friends, you don’t always have to pay.” He offered. He shifted his delivery bag off his shoulder and dumped it onto the counter like it was a done deal. You chewed your bottom lip, glancing between him and the phone.

“I don’t want to put you out. You can’t give away weed every time a girl is in crisis. I can pay you later, or make it up to you somehow?” You offered guiltily. Argyle simply shrugged and gestured for you to follow him outside.

“I’m sure we can figure something out.”

You hesitated only long enough to yell that someone in the kitchen would have to grab the phone and scurried behind him, eager for any sort of stress relief.

-

You shifted awkwardly in your seat as Argyle rolled a joint in front of you. He was explaining the differences between this strain and his usual one, but you were only half listening, your eyes following the expert movements of his fingers.

“… hybrid, so it might make you a little sleepy, but you’ll definitely be more relaxed. I always get cotton mouth, but I didn’t give the last house their pepsi since they yelled at you on the phone, so you can drink that if you need it.”

You nodded along as if you were listening. He twisted the end of the joint and admired his own rolling job before holding it up to his mouth to light. You had always been attracted to your coworker, but “don’t shit where you eat” had been heavily ingrained in your mind from the drama at your first job. You were doing your best to respect that, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t look. He held the joint between his lips, using one hand to shield it from non-existent wind and the other to light the end with his lighter. He let the twisted paper burn down, taking a few puffs to draw the flame into the weed, and then offered it to you.

You tried not to think about the slight dampness from where he had kept the filter in his mouth for too long as you took a long pull, holding the smoke in your lungs for a few moments before exhaling.

He still hadn't given you a way to repay him, but you didn't bring it up yet as you returned the joint carefully pinched between pointer finger and thumb. He took it with ease, eyes trained on your face as he leaned back to take a hit. He inhaled deeply, holding for a beat before exhaling through his mouth and nose, smoke pouring from him like some sort of fancy incense holder. 

You couldn't help but laugh, grinning as he broke into a smile. 

"That's it. There's my smile. Consider your debt paid in full." He said cheerfully, reaching out to gently pat your cheek. His touch shouldn't have burned the way it did, but then, none of the way you felt around Argyle made any sense. You shouldn't get jealous when he told you stories of customers flirting with him. You shouldn't hang on to his every word. You shouldn't mope around the pizza parlor until he comes in from each delivery with some story or snippet of something that he thought might cheer you up. You really, really shouldn't shit where you eat.

You let him place the joint between your lips, trying to ignore the way his fingers brushed gently against your lips as he pulled away. You were sure you imagined the slight intake of breath on his part, the way his eyes lingered on your lips, the way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed before tearing his eyes away. 

Fuck, the weed was hitting quick if you were already this horny. You took another hit, inhaling slowly and holding the smoke in your mouth for a second before breathing it into your lungs. You exhaled, feeling yourself start to melt into the floor of the van. Argyle took the joint as carefully as he had placed it, dropping it into the ashtray he kept on hand.

"I don't think a smile is enough to pay you for weed, Argyle." You slurred lazily, flicking your eyes up to gaze at him through thick lashes. You didn't remember when you laid down fully, but there he was, sitting upright and towering over you. 

"No?" He asked, still smiling. Argyle was always smiling. That was one of the things you liked so much about him. You reached up and poked his cheek, grinning when it made his smile widen. 

"No." You repeated, shaking your head slightly. He shifted closer, his leg bumping up against yours as he made himself comfortable. There was a brief silence as your brain processed the new input and he just watched you, waiting. Finally, his curiosity got the best of him.

"What would be enough to pay me for weed?" He asked, finally. You hummed. The logical part of your brain was telling you to stop now, that he might reject you and that would be awkward and you couldn't get a new job quickly if this went sour because you got frisky after a little weed.

The less logical side of your brain was telling you that you knew the way he looked at you. How his eyes lingered when you stretched to get the boxes from the top shelf, your shirt slipping up to reveal the slightest bit of skin. How he always looked your way when he made a joke to be sure that you were laughing. How he undercharged you for weed, or slipped extra in the bag when you weren't looking. You liked that side much better. 

You played with the collar of your shirt as you considered the best way to answer, not missing the way his eyes followed your hand and then drifted down before deliberately, dutifully returning to your face. 

"Remember that delivery to the apartments down Oakside last Tuesday, 3A?" You asked. You watched his face as he thought back, trying to count the days backwards to remember what you meant. His lips moved silently as he thought, mouthing the pizza orders of the places he remembered. You couldn't help but smile at his moment of realization, the tips of his ears growing a deep red at the memory. Large white pie, extra sausage.

"You mean the one with the..." he mimed opening a robe, his eyes slightly wide as the implications of your words slammed into him all at once. "No way, dude, you don't have to..." He trailed off. His eyes were already drifting back down, Adam's apple bobbing with the force of his nervous swallowing. 

You smiled and gave him a slight nod, fingers already fiddling with the first button on your work shirt. 

"That's the one. I think you said something about a pizza costing more than just a look." You teased, moving on to the next button when the first finally popped open. "Does that apply to weed, too?"

Argyle's lips parted like he was about to say something, eyebrows knitted together as he grappled over what to say, but no words came out. He blinked hard, shaking his head slightly like he was making sure you were really there, then he looked down at the joint, inspecting it for anything he hadn't added. 

"Argyle?"

"If it's for the weed, you don't have to." He repeated, his voice high with nervousness. You had one button left, and you made quick work of it, letting your shirt rest, partially open, on your chest. You felt incredible. High, powerful, sexy, bold... You could take on the world, if the world were the cute boy sitting with his mouth slightly open across from you. The world around him was hazy, tilting slowly, but that didn't matter when you felt like this.

"I want to." This was stupid. This was brilliant. This was ridiculous. This was... everything. You couldn't decide as he shifted next to you, moving closer like he was waiting for you to take it back. "Aren't you curious?" 

You could tell from the way he looked at you that he was more than curious. Maybe he was hoping for this, or something like this. Maybe this hadn't been the first time he thought about you in the back of his delivery van. Maybe he wanted more than you were even offering him right now. He said none of that out loud, his fingers gingerly finding the edges of your shirt and pushing them apart, inch by inch. 

The fabric was silky against your bare chest, the whisper of friction sending chills across your skin. You wondered if, this close, he could tell your heart was pounding in your chest, leaping at his careful touch. The places his fingers grazed against you were impossibly warm and the sensation of his skin on yours was nearly enough to send you spiraling. His eyes flickered between your face and your chest, searching for any sign of reluctance. Finding none, he finally just pulled your shirt open, a small groan falling from his lips at the sight of your bare tits beneath him.

"You are, like, unreal." He mumbled, his eyes devouring the sight of you like you were going to disappear. You flushed under the intensity of his gaze, fighting the urge to cover yourself or pull your shirt closed again. Your head was spinning in an entirely different way now, the weed paling in comparison to what Argyle was making you feel right now. You watched as he wet his lips with his tongue, goosebumps forming across your skin at the thought of what he might do with that. 

You took a breath, watching him as he watched the rise and fall of your chest, memorizing the curves of your torso as you just existed. Argyle had always been cute, but the way he looked at you made you ache for him. The world was hazy and soft, the weed having filed off all the hard edges, and yet Argyle was the only thing in sharp focus. You smiled, reaching for his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he took yours just as easily. You pulled it towards you, dropping it only inches away from the swell of your breast. 

"More than a look, right?" You breathed and the look he gave you would have melted you if you weren't already there. You were playing coy, but you were practically begging for his touch, laid out all pretty beneath him like you belonged there. Even just sitting there, not moving, his touch sent flames across your skin, quickening your breath and making you desperate. 

"You're sure?" Argyle was in just as much of a state, his face a dark red, breath coming heavy and deliberate. He shifted uncomfortably, cock straining against the rough denim of his jeans in a way that neither of you could ignore. If you'd had doubts before they were gone now, replaced only with the desire for him to just touch you already. 

"Don't make me beg." That was enough to get him moving, shifting to his knees like he had only been waiting for you to say the word. His hands were rough, calloused, awkward, but they felt so fucking good as he finally cupped your breasts, fingers pressing in slightly as he experimented with a gentle squeeze. You inhaled sharply, your back arching slightly into his touch and he took the encouragement for what it was.

He touched you carefully, experimenting to find the things that made you gasp, that made you look at him like you wanted more. It was when he leaned in, lips parted, pupils blown wide with desire that you knew you were a fucking goner. "Can I?"

You almost cursed at him for asking, reaching up to thread your fingers into the thick curtain of his hair and pull him closer to your chest. He smoothed one steadying hand across your abdomen and leaned in, his breath fanning across your nipple in a way that already had you shivering. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to press a hot, warm, kiss to the side of your breast. You moaned, the sound floaty and distant to your high mind. If his fingers were warm, his mouth was searing, leaving you needy and breathless as he decorated your chest with open-mouthed kisses, lips and teeth and tongue seeking out all the sensitive places his fingers had mapped out before.

Your grip on his hair tightened, your body arching into him as he came tantalizingly close to one of your nipples and then kissed around it, sucking at the skin just under where you wanted his mouth most. If it were anyone but Argyle, you would've thought it was a deliberate ploy to make you needy, pliant under him. It worked anyway, your brain swimming with want for him, his mouth, his fingers, his everything. 

When he pulled away, he was enraptured, dark eyes trained on your body, lips slightly swollen from kissing your chest. Neither of you spoke for a moment, eyes trading questions about intentions rather than risking words. 

You were ready to speak, to ask when it happened. BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three sharp raps on the side of the van that sent you scrambling away from each other, nearly colliding in your haste. 

"Come on, Argyle, I can smell you in there." It was the other delivery driver, no doubt irate that he had been left to do back to back runs. 

"Uhhh," Argyle's voice came out thick and raspy, and he had to clear his throat before trying again. "Dude, my bad, lost track of time. New strain." He called out, eyes not leaving you as the excuse fell easily from his lips. You envied his composure, still struggling to rebutton your shirt under his scrutiny. 

"Whatever, just go pick up your pies, dude." The annoyance was clear even when muffled and tinny through the doors of the trunk. You bit your lip, casting Argyle a guilty look as you considered what chaos you might be returning to. He was all smiles, though, as he reached over to his ashtray and picked up the blunt, plucking it to place between his lips as if he hadn't missed a beat. He relit it and took a hit before replying.

"Alright. My bad, man. Won't happen again." He assured, passing you the blunt. You took a small hit and passed it back, exhaling for longer than needed in an attempt to calm yourself. Your body still felt like it was on fire with want for him, but you couldn't just say that when he seemed to bounce back to his normal, unbothered self. "Guess we have to get back." he intoned, just for you.

"Guess so." You responded breathlessly. He smiled guiltily and reached out to help you fix the button you had messed up, leaving a gape right at your cleavage. Somehow that's what made you squeeze your thighs together, shifting uncomfortably as he helped fix your clothes. 

"Maybe we could hang out later?" He offered, his eyes promising all the things he wasn't saying out loud. Or maybe that was just the weed and desire talking because right now all the bullshit warnings about getting involved with coworkers were far from thought, lost somewhere on the tip of Argyle's tongue, or perhaps in the palms of his hands, or in the gaze that darkened ever so slightly when his eyes fell on you again, contrasting his easy smile. 

"Yeah, maybe." 

[angelsmist]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

HBCU!SHURI X READER

prompt: shuri invited you to wakanda for the holidays, and you can’t help but feel homesick

warnings: cursing

note: IKK this is like two days after christmas but i’m posting it anyways LMFAOOO hopefully i’ll get part two out later today, if not then tmrw

this is not proofread so idk

“so, what are your plans for the break?” your classmate, natalie, asked, trying to make conversation

you frowned at her question. although shuri had never hinted at it, you truly did hope she would ask you to visit wakanda with her. you knew she wouldn’t do that, but a part of you wished she would.

the night syniah’s friends ditched you was a night that remained in your mind. although you couldn’t remember too much from it, shuri filled in the blanks for you. and waking up to tea and breakfast made you finally confront the feelings you had been trying to hide.

the feelings that made your stomach churn whenever shuri smiled at you, or the electricity you’d feel shoot throughout your body whenever you two made physical contact. you were falling for the princess, to simply put it.

you were an overthinker, so when you started to wonder if shuri could feel the same, you shut the whole idea down in fears of ruining the entire friendship with your thoughts.

tati told you about the phone call she exchanged with shuri the night she took you to her dorm, which got into your head for a while. tati had you seriously convinced that shuri felt the connection between you two as well.

you thought you were being delusional, though.

“i dunno,” you replied to the girl after some time. today was the last day before you were officially free, so most of your class was free. shuri didn’t come to class, and you assumed it was because she was packing. “probably visit family.”

“oh. i though you was going with the princess to wakanda, or sum.”

your eyebrows furrowed in response. “uhh…why would you think that?”

“everybody thinks y’all go together,” natalie informed, tapping her newly done nails on the table.

this was news to you. you thought it was just syniah’s ex friends who saw it that way. “really?”

“yeah,” she confirmed as if it were obvious. “that girl don’t really be hanging around nobody but you.”

“that’s not true.” you shook your head.

“i mean, yeah. she’s in groups sometimes, but she’s only ever been alone with you. at least, that’s what i see. don’t mind my nosy ass, though.”

natalie’s last sentence made you crack a smile. but, her words really did leave you wondering.

as if on cue, your phone began to vibrate rapidly. you pulled it out of your purse before someone could start a fuss about it, but you were a bit surprised to see shuri calling you. especially when she could’ve just come to class to ask you.

clearly, you weren’t going to answer it in the middle of class, so you excused yourself and stepped outside.

“hey, shuri. where have you been?”

“i’ve been packing. hey, (name), could you come by my dorm later? i need your help with something.”

shrugging off her vague reply, you spoke. “umm, sure. do you know how long it’ll take? i’m gonna have to start packing, too.”

“it won’t take long. hopefully.”

“okay,” you giggled breathily. “i’ll swing by after class, which, by the way, you should be in.”

“you know a princess always has her duties.”

shuri was pacing.

she had been for the past thirty minutes after you ended the call. she was extremely nervous.

she planned to ask you to go with her to wakanda. she wanted you to to as her girlfriend, but she felt that it would be pressure on you, which was the last thing she wanted to do.

a knock on her dorm made her jump, but stop going back and forth at once. after a quick glance in the mirror to make sure she was presentable, she twisted the knob and plastered a smile on her face.

the fake grin became real when she met your eyes and saw the beam that shone brightly on your face. you entered her dorm when she opened it even more, signaling that she wanted you to come in.

“hey, what’s up?” you greeted, walking past her to plop down on her bed as if were your own. “you said needed help with sum?”

the princess intertwined her fingers, evidently nervous, although you couldn’t see it due to the fact that you were working out your own nerves whenever you two made eye contact.

“yes, i do. but i need to ask you something first.”

you raised an eyebrow, remaining silent but egging shuri on too continue.

“you remember when you told me about your family wanting you to come with me to wakanda?”

you could’ve sworn that oxygen stopped going into your body the second you heard shuri’s words. “yeah, but, don’t worry about it. they’ll be upset, but they’ll get over it.”

“what if i told you i wanted you to come with me?” shuri would’ve stuck with that question, if it weren’t for her reading too much info your facials. “just for the sake of your family.”

you swallowed thickly. “well, um, if that were the case, i’d say yes.”

“well, then this is me asking you to come to wakanda with me. i understand if you wanna say no, since we don’t celebrate christmas-”

“no!” you interrupted her quickly. “i mean, i don’t mind at all. i’ve always wanted to see wakanda, so…”

naturally, you were nervous. after all, you were just a friend of shuri’s, and her taking you to such a private nation was a major deal. and for her to offer to fly you there as her plus one was a major deal to you. even if she said she was doing it for the sake of your family.

“good!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “you should start packing now, since we leave tomorrow.”

“hol on, what?”

“shit.” was all you could say as you took in the aircraft.

when you told you family that you couldn’t make it for christmas, they immediately knew why, and began to swarm you with demands and questions. you hung up, of course.

since you boarded the talon, the dora milaje hadn’t taken their eyes off you. of course, you couldn’t blame them, as you were a stranger, but, it didn’t exactly ease your nerves.

all they knew was that you had to have been special for shuri to invite you to wakanda so easily. maybe that’s why not a single one of them bought the act of you two being just friends.

shuri stood up from her seat next to you, noticing your uncomfortable manner. she walked over to the general, who was near the pilot of the talon, but she faced you. shuri stopped once she could get a clear view of where the pilot was going, and while she faced forwards, okoye faced backwards. “okoye, why so hostile? all of you have been eyeing her since she got on here.”

“i apologize, your majesty. but, you cannot expect us to remain unsuspicious.”

“she is not a threat,” shuri defended.”

“oh, i know,” okoye stated, a scoff releasing from her lips. “but she is not just a friend, either.”

“what are you suggesting, general?”

“you know what i’m suggesting, princess.”

with an annoyed sigh, shuri moved away from the doja milaje leader and back to the seat next to you.

to avoid tension, you cracked a joke. “so, do they approve?”

it took her a minute to understand your joke, but once she did, she offered a smile. “they’re a bit skeptical, but this is them being nice.”

“i’d hate to get on their bad side,” you joked once again.

“we are almost there,” one of the dora milaje you were told was named ayo announced. confusion washed over your features as you rose from your seat.

you walked to the front of the aircraft, looking at where you were headed.

it was just trees.

“i don’t understand,” you expressed your concern, turning to shuri for an explanation.

she wore a knowing smile, glancing at you momentarily. “i love this part.”

the ship was heading straight for the trees at full speed. you tried your best to trust shuri, but there was no sign of a thing for miles are your heart was already racing like you were running a marathon.

you instinctively gripped on shuri’s black coat to keep yourself from passing out.

just as you braved yourself for impact, the forest suddenly disappeared. you were rendered speechless as a large, beautiful, nation took its place. you released a breath that you unconsciously had been holding in for at least a minute.

once the panic had settled, you let the nation of wakanda sink in. it was���perfect.

as the talon zooms at full speed you get a clearer view of the city. there are trains surrounding towering skyscrapers that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

you let go of shuri’s jacket, not letting your eyes drift from the magnificent place once. “well, i see why y’all like to keep your country private.”

it’s when the jet finally comes to a stop that you officially realize where you are. not only that, but you also realize you are seconds away from meeting the queen.

“shuri.” you turned away from the view and to the princess who seemed to already be looking at you. “am i supposed to, like, bow to the queen, or…?”

“no, don’t bow,” she answered, although you weren’t sure if you entirely believed her since she was grinning from ear to ear.

one of the doras switched a lever, which opened the exit ramp and lowered it onto the ground.

despite it being below zero in atlanta, wakanda seemed to be the opposite. it isn’t too hot, but it certainly isn’t freezing cold.

the first thing you noticed as you step off the ship alongside shuri is how different the air is.

it was much purer, and felt a whole lot fresher. the next thing you noticed were the dora milaje lined up on both sides of the talon. as shuri came out of it, they did a salute that you weren’t familiar with. shuri acknowledged them, offering a polite nod.

you could see the queen open her hands so she could engulf her daughter in an affectionate embrace. their hug was filled with warmth that anybody could feel for miles.

the queen definitely got lonely occasionally since she had nobody in the family since shuri had gone off to college. the queen exhaled as she held onto her child tightly. “oh, how i’ve missed you, shuri.”

you couldn’t see shuri’s face, but you just knew her expression had to have mirrored her mother’s. “i have missed you, too, mother.”

once the hug was broken, shuri turned to you, grabbing your wrist to bring you closer so you stood in front of the queen. “mother, this is my friend, (name). this was the one i told you about.”

the queen had a suggestive look on her face. “ah, this friend. it’s lovely to meet you, (name).”

you wanted to be as respectful as possible. the last thing you wanted to do was offend the queen within the two minutes of you being there. “and it is an absolute honor to meet you, your majesty. wakanda is a beautiful nation, and i’m so grateful that you’re okay with me being here.”

“you are very special to my daughter, and she seems to really-”

“okay, that’s enough,” the princess interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “i need to talk to my mother, but aneka here will show you to your room. i’ll see you soon.”

wakanda certainly knew how to make their guests feel welcome.

your room was in the palace, to your surprise. you weren’t sure where you thought you’d be staying, but you certainly didn’t think it’d be in a guest room across from the princess.

you didn’t actually know anyone except for shuri there, so you stayed in your temporary room while you waited for her to come.

“it’s beautiful, right?”

you looked away from the window and left your own mind to see aneka, who had not left since you arrived in the room. you never asked her to leave, to be fair.

“yeah, it’s amazing,” you agreed with aneka, moving away from the gorgeous view to approach her. “this whole thing y’all got going on here…no wonder y’all didn’t want the world to know.”

aneka’s lips twitched upwards slightly at your interest in her home.

“so how much of this place is vibranium? like the trains? or maybe the floors?”

she blinked. “everything.”

“oh, shit,” you cursed. “you mean this whole place is running on vibranium?” a nod from aneka made you raise your eyebrows in shock. “that is sick.”

the sound of three knocks at the door was enough to grab both you and aneka’s attention.

“it’s shuri!”

the dora strode to the door and opened it with ease. she greeted the princess and you waited patiently as she entered your line of sight.

“hey,” the princess greeted, sitting at the window next to you. “so, how are you liking wakanda so far?”

“it’s breathtaking,” you spoke truthfully. “your home is straight up art.”

she chuckled, giving you that annoying feeling of butterflies in your stomach. “it really is. but are you sure you’re not feeling homesick? you always talked about how much you loved christmas and since we don’t celebrate it here, i thought-”

you waved your hands dismissively. “i don’t mind at all. i think of it as a christmas present, actually. getting to explore a place as magical as wakanda.”

you weren’t entirely lying. you did feel homesick. it was almost christmas, yet there weren’t any decorations that gave you the christmasy feel you’d get every year. and as much as you hated to admit, you missed your annoying ass family too. you didn’t want to appear ungrateful, though. you really were enjoying your stay so far.

“are you sure?”

“shuri, let it go,” you giggled. “i’m happy to be here. one christmas away from my family isn’t going to be the end of the world.”

“okay, i’ll let it go,” she acknowledged. “maybe we can go explore the city now. i think you’ll love everyone.”

“i’d love that. but, i need to use the bathroom first.”

with that, you got up from the seat and entered the bathroom. once aneka was sure you were no longer listening, she turned to shuri.

“you’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“you know i won’t.”

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

Here’s some extremely rare original content from yours truly! I was digging around for an old drawing the other day, and it was actually really fun looking through my old sketchbooks. I found these ocs from a vague idea that I didn’t do anything with, but I’m fascinated with them nonetheless. It’s fun, because I don’t remember anything about these characters at all, but also, they’re mine? I was able to vaguely scrap together who they’re supposed to be from leftover memories and the drawings themselves. I did this little kid thing where I wrote their names right next to them, which turned out to be very helpful lol. It was from a very specific moment in time (september 2014), and it weirdly feels like I’m on some sort of cosmic wavelength, since I'm revisiting these characters in the same season. I feel like teenage me would be really happy to see me messing around with these characters again. In summary, they’re a group of choir/band kids on a class trip. It takes place in the winter. That’s really all I had. My favorite is the hipster kid (who I don’t remember at ALL). I drew him some more and actually settled on a version where his hair is less smooth and more spiky looking; I'll probably share more drawings of him later. His name is Kaleb Maine. He plays the flute. He listens to dubstep… we’ll figure out more about him as we go. There's actually several more characters I have yet to draw but I'll post those eventually too! This is very silly and there really isn't any rhyme or reason to any of this. I'm just enjoying not knowing anything.

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

Some really tasty factoids here.

Cut for length.

Dragon Age: Origins

The continent of Thedas was at one point going to be named Pelledia, a name initially floated by James Ohlen

“Qunari” was a temporary name that ended up unintentionally sticking, much like “Thedas”

Mary Kirby wrote the Landsmeet. To this day, nobody understands how it works, except possibly her. If she’s “really really drunk” she can explain how it works. There’s as many words in it as Sten’s entire conversations put together

Concept art for Thedosian art - as in in-world art - draws heavily on Renaissance-era portraiture, the Art Nouveau movement, religious styles and media like stained glass, and favorite pieces from the golden age of illustrations in the early 20th century

Andrastianism in-world (art-wise) is depicted in wildly different methods depending on who in-world made the art in question. “One religion, 3 different lenses”. There’s the Chantry take, the Orlesian take and the Fereldan take; each with its own different interpretations, different mediums and different stories

The stained glass images were drawn by Nick Thornborrow for DAI, to decorate religious spaces in that game “and beyond”

irl Viking art influenced Ferelden

Greek and Italian art influenced Orlais

The book also had other insights into and anecdotes from the development of DAO, but I’ve transcribed them recently as they’re essentially the stories DG has recently been relating on the awesome Summerfall Studios DAO playthrough Twitch streams. (On those streams he provides dev commentary while Liam Esler plays through DA. The ones with DG are currently once every two weeks. Check them out! Here’s a calendar where you can check when the next one is) Instead of repeating myself I’ll just provide the link to the first transcript. From there you can navigate to the subsequent parts. Note these streams are ongoing. At this point I will also point you to a related post which is cliff notes of the Dragon Age chapter in Jason Schreier’s book Blood Sweat and Pixels.

Dragon Age II

DAO had the longest development period in BioWare history. In contrast DA2 had the shortest

Initially DA2 was going to be an expansion to DAO. A few months in EA said “Yeah, expansions like these don’t sell very well, so let’s make it a sequel.” So it suddenly became DA2 and they had to make it even bigger, although they still only had 1.5 years of time in which to do this

Production of DA2 officially lasted only 9 months, and at the time the team was still supporting live content for DAO! They finished development that January after the design team crunched all the way through the holiday period that year. Then it went to cert 9 times

The limited time they had is why the story takes place mostly in and around 1 city, and over 7 years (so it was temporal, rather than over physical distance, because a more expansive world would have taken more irl time to make)

They had no time to review even the main plot. Mike Laidlaw pitched the idea of 3 stories taking place at different points in the PC’s life, tied together by Varric’s recollections of events. DG rolled with this and made 1 presentation on the idea. This presentation was then approved and off they went

As they were writing DG realized that there was going to be no oversight and that everything was going to be a ‘first draft’. “Because nobody had time.” He sat down with the writers and said “Look, here’s the conditions we’re working under. A lot of what we’re putting out is gonna be raw. We’re not going to get the editing we need. We’re not going to get the kind of iteration we need. So I’m going to trust you all to do your best work.”

Looking back, DG has mixed feelings on DA2. “A lot of corners were cut. The public perception was that it was smaller than DAO. That’s a sin on its own.”

Despite this he thinks DA2 has some of the best writing in the series, especially character-wise. The DA2 chars are his favorite

The pace with which production progressed may in some ways have helped. “When we do a lot of revision, we often file away [as in buff off] some of the good writing as well. Somehow DA2′s whirlwind process resulted in some really good writing”

The pace meant chars landed on the writers in various stages of completion. For example Isabela was fairly defined due to appearing in DAO. In contrast Varric at the start was just that single piece of widely-shown concept art

Varric was conceived as a storyteller not a fighter. His skills are talking and bullshitting. Hence the question became, so what does this guy do in combat? The direction was to make him as different as possible to Oghren, so not a warrior. He couldn’t be a dual-wielding rogue in order to differentiate him from Bela. But you can’t really picture this guy with a bow. “For a dwarf, it would probably be a crossbow. We didn’t have crossbows, or we only had crossbows for the darkspawn. And they were part of the models. We didn’t have a separate crossbow that was equip-able by the chars. They had to like, crop one off a darkspawn and remodel it. And that became Bianca” (quote: Mary Kirby)

“Dwarven mages are exceedingly rare.” [???]

If DAO was a classic fantasy painting, DA2 was a screenshot from a Kurosawa film or a northern Renaissance painting. (Here Matt Rhodes was commenting on art style)

John Epler: “In any one of our games, there’s a 95% chance that if you turn the camera away from what it’s looking at, you’ll see all kinds of janky stuff. The moment we know the camera is no longer facing someone, we no longer care what happens to them. We will teleport people around. We will jump people around. We will literally have someone walk off screen and then we will shift them 1000 meters down, because we’re fixing some bug.” John also talked about this camera stuff in a recent charity Twitch stream for Gamers For Groceries. There’s a writeup of that stream here

Designing Kirkwall pushed concept artists to the limits of visual storytelling, because it has a long history that they wanted to be present. It was once the hub of Tevinter’s slave empire, so it needed to look brutal and harsh, but it also then needed to feel reclaimed, evolved, and with elements of contemporary Free Marches culture

The initial plan was for DA titles to be distinguished by subtitles not numbers, so that each experience could stand on its own rather than feel like a sequel or continuation. (My note: New PCs in each entry make sense then when you consider this and other factoids we know like how DA is the story of the world not of any one PC). Later, DA2′s name was made DA2 in a bid to more clearly connect the game to its predecessor. For DAI they returned to the original naming convention. (My note: so I’d reckon they’d be continuing the subtitle naming convention for DA4)

DA2 was initially code-named “Nug Storm”, strictly internally

The Cancelled DA2 Expansion - Exalted March

This was a precursor to DAI

It was meant to bridge the gap between DA2 and DAI

It focused on the fallout from Kirkwall’s explosion, with Cory serving as the villain

Meredith’s red lyrium statue was basically going to infest Kirkwall and it would end up [with what would end up] the red templars taking over Kirkwall and essentially being Cory’s army

To stop him Hawke would have recruited various factions, including Bela’s Felicisima Armada and the Qunari at Estwatch, forcing Hawke to split loyalties and risk relationships in the process

It was meant to bring DA2′s story to an end and end in Varric’s death. DG was very happy with this because all of DA2 is Varric’s tale. The expansion was supposed to start at the moment Cassandra’s interrogation of him ended in the present. “And we finished off the story with Varric having this heroic death.” It tied things up and would have broken many fan hearts, something BioWare writers notoriously enjoy. But between a transition to the new Frostbite engine and the scope of DAI, the decision was made to cancel EM, work any hard-to-lose concepts into DAI, and in the process save Varric’s life. DG has talked about the Varric dying thing before

Concept art for EM explored new areas previously not depicted in the DA universe, with costumes that reflected next steps for familiar chars. Varric was going to war, what would he have worn? With Anders, if he survived DA2, the plan was to present a redeemed Warden

A char that vaguely resembled Sera in DAI was first concepted for EM. This fact was mentioned near this concept art (see the female elf) and this concept art of Bethany with the blond bob

The writers sketched out plans to end it with Hawke having the option to marry their LI. This included alternate ceremonies for party members like Bethany and Sebastian if the player opted not to wed. There was even a wedding dress made for Hawke. This asset made it into DAI (Sera and Cullen’s weddings in Trespasser). The dress can also be seen in DAI during an ambient NPC wedding after completing a chain of war table missions

The destruction of a Chantry was explored in concept art as it might have happened in EM. This idea ended up carrying over to the beginning of DAI. (My note: Lol, the idea that DA2 could have had 2 Chantries being destroyed in it 😆)

World of Thedas

Sheryl Chee and Mary Kirby started with “a disgusting little dish called fluffy mackerel pudding”. In the middle of DAO’s busy dev period one of them (they can’t remember who) found a recipe online for this, scanned in from a 70s cookbook. “I don’t understand why it was fluffy. Why would you want fluffy mackerel pudding?” MK says. “We loved it so much we included it in a DAO codex.”

This led them to create more food for Thedas, full recipes included, like a Fereldan turnip and barley stew from MK and SC’s Starkhaven fish and egg pie. The fish pie became Sebastian’s favorite. “To me it made sense for it to be fish pie because a lot of the Free Marches are on the coast”, SC says, “It was something that was popular in medieval times, so I thought, let’s make a fish pie! I looked at medieval recipes and I concocted a fish pie which I fed to my partner, and he was like ‘This is not terrible’”

For WoT the whole studio was asked to contribute family recipes which might have a place in Thedas. SC adapted these to fit in one Thedosian culture or another, including a beloved banana bread that localization producer Melanie Fleming would regularly bake to keep the DA team motivated. “Melanie’s banana bread got us through Inquisition”

DAI

It says part of DAI takes place in or near the border with Nevarra [???]

This game was aimed to be bigger than DA2 and even DAO in every conceivable way

The first hour had to do a lot of heavy lifting, tying together the events of DAO and DA2 while introducing a new PC, new followers etc in the aftermath of the big attack. DG rewrote it 7 times then Lukas Kristjanson did 2 more passes

DG: “Our problem is always that our endings are so important, but we leave them to last, when we have no time. I kept pushing on DAI: ‘Can we work on the ending now? Can we work on the ending now? Can we do it early on?’ Because I knew exactly what it was going to be. But despite the fact that it kept getting scheduled, whenever the schedule started falling behind, it kept getting pushed back... so, of course, it got left til last again.”

“The reveal of the story’s real antagonist, Solas, a follower until the end, when he betrayed the player”. “Solas’ story remains a main thread in Inquisition’s long-awaited follow-up” [these aren’t DG quotes, just bits of general text]

Over the course of development they had 8 full-time writers and 4 editors working on it. Other writers joined later to help wrangle what ended up being close to 1 million words of dialogue and unspoken text. While many teams moved to a more open concept style of work for DAI, the writers remained tucked away in their own room, a choice DG says was necessary, given how much they talked. All the talking had a purpose ofc as if someone hit a bump or wall in their writing they would open the problem up to the room

As writing on a project like DAI progresses, the writers grow punchier and weirder things make it into the game. This is especially the case towards the end of a project (they get tired, burned out)

Banter and codexes require less ‘buy-in’ (DG has talked about this concept a few times on the Twitch streams) from other designers. DG liked to leave banter for last as a reward because it was fun. Banter begins as lists of topics for 2 followers to discuss. These may progress over time or be one off exchanges. One banter script can balloon to well over 10k words. “The banter was always huge because we were always like, laughing, and really at that point, our fields of fucks were rather barren, so we would just do whatever”

The bog unicorn happened pretty much by accident. It was designed by Matt Rhodes and was one of his fav things to design. They needed horse variations and he had already designed an undead variant which was a bog mummy [bog body]. irl these are preserved in a much different way to traditional mummies. When someone dies in a bog their skin turns black and raisin-like. The examples we know of tend to have bright red hair for whatever reason. It’s a very striking look and MR wanted to do a horse version of this as he thought it’d be neat. 5 mins before the review meeting for it he had a big ‘Aha!’ moment, quickly looked up a rusty old Viking sword, and photoshopped it through its skull like that was how it died. “And I was like, ‘I just made a unicorn. Alright, in it goes!’” It got approved. “So we built the thing. It fit. It told a little story”

With the irl Inquisition longsword, one of the objects they tested its cleaving ability on was a plush version of Leliana’s nug Schmooples

The concept art team explored a wide variety of visuals for the Inquisitor’s signature mark. It needed to look powerful and raw but couldn’t look like a horrific wound. In some cases, as cool as the idea looked on paper, they just weren’t technically feasible, especially as they had to be able to fit on any number of different bodies

Bug report: “Endlessly spawning mounts! At one point during development, Inquisitors could summon a new horse every time they whistled, allowing them to amass a near infinite number of eager steeds that faithfully followed them across Thedas. “You could go charging across levels and they’d all gallop behind you,” Jen Cheverie says, “It was beautiful.” Trotting into town became an epic horse siege as a tidal wave of mounts enveloped the streets. Jen called it her Army of Ponies”

The giants came from DA Week, an internal period when devs can pursue different individual creative projects that in some way benefit DA. They also had a board game from one of these that they were going to put in but they didn’t have time. It’s referenced though. It was dwarven chess

Josie’s outfit is made of gold silk and patterned velvet, with leather at her waist. She carries “an ornate ledger” and she has “an ornamented collar sitting around her neck, finished by a brilliant red ruby, like a drop of Antivan wine in a sunbeam”

Iron Bull’s armor is leather. His loose pantaloons and leather boots give him agility to charge

On DAI in particular, concept artists took special care to make sure costumes would be realistic, at least in a practical ‘this obeys the laws of physics and textiles’ sense. “While on Inquisition, we thought about cosplay from a concept art perspective. Given how incredible a lot of [cosplays] are, I now am not worried about them. In fact in some cases in the future I want to throw them curveballs like, ‘All right, you clever bastards. Let’s see if you can do this!’”

2 geese that nested on the office building and had chicks were named Ganders and Arishonk (it wasn’t known who was the mom or the dad). Other possible names were Carver Honke, Bethany Honke, Urdnot Pecks, Quackwall, Cassandra Pentagoose, the Iron Bill, Shepbird, Garroose, Admiral Quackett, Scout Honking, HChick-47 and Darth Malgoose

Bug report: “The surprising adventures of Ser Noodles!” DAI was the first time the series had a mount feature, meaning this had a lot of bugs. A lot of the teams’ favorite bugs were to do with the mounts. There was a period of time where the Inquisitor’s horse seemed to lose all bone and muscle in its legs. They had a week or so where all quadruped legs were broken. It was a bit noticeable in things like nugs and other small beasties but the horse was insanely obvious. “The first time we summoned the horse [for this] and started running around, the entire QA exploration room just exploded with laughter.” Its legs flapped around like cooked fettucine, leading testers to lovingly nickname it Ser Noodles. At galloping speeds the legs almost looked like helicopter blades, especially when footage was set to classic pieces such as Wagner’s Flight of the Valkyries

For DAI the artists were asked questions like “What would Morrigan wear to a formal ball? Can Cassandra pull off a jaunty hat?”

On DAI storyboarding became the norm. John Epler: “Cinematic design for the longest time was the Wild West. It was ‘here’s a bunch of content, now do it however you want’, which resulted in some successes and some failures.” Storyboarding gave designers a consistent visual blueprint based on ideas from designers, writers and concept artists

Quote from a storyboard by Nick Thornborrow (the Inquisitor going into the party at the end of basegame sequence): “Until Corypheus revealed himself they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. A magister and a darkspawn combined. The ultimate evil. So evil. Eviler than puppy-killers and egg farts combined.”

A general note on concept art:

In the early stages of any project, before the concept artists are aware of any writing, they like to just draw what they think cool story moments could be. It’s not unusual for the team to then be inspired by these and fold them into the game as the project progresses

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin