#dandelion fics-adjacent

[anonymousdandelion]

Me: Hm, I'll just write up a glossary/brief explanatory notes to explain the Jewish terms and concepts I used in this fic. Should be pretty quick and easy!

Me, later, looking at a two-page glossary for a twenty-four page story: ...hmmm

[anonymousdandelion]

(Oh, and if anyone actually wants to put my memory to the test, here are all my AO3 fics!)

fanfic writers: if you were shown nothing but the title of one of your own fics, do you think you would be able to remember which one it is

[nephriteknight]

progress update: dandelion angst is officially at 10k words! there's still so much to go. i'm gonna be at this for a while

[whoopsiesnodaisies]

Current WIPs

(completed!) it's a Jegulily long fic (327k words) that follows Lily from first year at Hogwarts until her death

A Bellatrix Black x Molly Prewett fic that follows Bellatrix throughout Hogwarts

It started as a joke and then I liked it so now I'm writing it... whoops... Regulus and Lily are professors at Hogwarts who have to juggle teaching and keeping their 'chosen one' son alive.

Barty x Lily fic where Lily is head girl and continues to catch Barty in trouble, leading to a whirl wind romance!

Jegulus Grey's Anatomy retelling!

Regulus' POV of Dandelions are Pretty Weeds, can be a stand-alone, longform canon-adjacent Jegulily fic

[foxhopfics]

Shot for shot

Jealous Kaeya Alberich/gn!vision wielder!reader

Rating: T

Requested by: N/a

Word count: 1182

Short fic inspired by @electrosair from their post "Jealous headcanons anemo + cryo ver."

Notes: hi hope u dont mind this!! I got really inspired by the kaeya section and well the writing gods just had to possess me :,) this was supposed to be a drabble but then I blinked and I hit 1k words

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

You and Kaeya were shot for shot so far. Bar hopping in Mond was a treat for you, even if it was a little more regular for your boyfriend. Unfortunately, your daily habits did not lend themselves well to a constant stupor.

But every so often, for a special evening of fun, Kaeya would dress the both of you in your favourite clothes and whizz you out the door for a night on the town.

The Angel's Share was your last stop for the night. You'd already said hi to Diona and many of the other working bartenders at your regular places, and now Charles was setting the two of you up with a special limited time new flavour of dandelion wine.

You watched as he poured the ingredients into two tall glasses, vision swimming as you watched green pearlescent liquid swirl in to mix with the wine. You smile dopily at it, swinging your head loosely around to look at your partner. "Babe look it's like. It's like Venti," you giggle out. "It's green and sparkly."

Kaeya, just as plastered as you, snorts out a laugh into the back of his hand. "I'll say. Contains just the right amount of wine, too."

You turn back to Charles. "Has Venti had one of these yet?"

He tops off your glasses and pushes them towards you, moving on to collect other empty glasses from patrons around the bar adjacent to them. "No," he thinks, "but I'll tell him you recommend it next time he comes in."

You shrug, drunkenly content with that answer. This was only released within the last few days, and it wasn't like the bard was at the Angel's Share every night. Taking the glass, you take a gulp of the drink.

To say it's new is an understatement. You have no idea what kind of things Diluc was experimenting with, but this topped anything he'd ever done. The ice in the bottom kept it chilly as sweet wine, a hint of Mondstat's sweet mint, a little side of lime, and something just distinctly flavoured as green slides down your tongue. It's a refreshing taste after the last bar, which was arguably one of the cheapest ones in town.

A sound makes its way out of your mouth, unsure in it's own sound if it's some kind of moan, warble, or drunken hiccup.

You blink. Wiping your mouth, you can't help but giggle. "Sorry Charles, I'm really drunk and that is going to be a smash hit."

When you look back at your boyfriend, he's staring at you, but not at your face, mouth open in soft wonder, eyes dancing in a glinting light.

"Kaeya? What's wrong?"

"Your vision..." he responds softly. You look over to where it's attached to you. It's glowing a faint light, not quite enough to rival the firelight from the torches, but enough to ad a coloured hue. The other patrons in the bar hush down to look at what's making the light.

After a moment, the wave of drunk from taking another sip passes and the light fades back to nothingness.

You stare at your vision, head swimming with too much inebriation to make any sense of what just happened.

The two of you look at Charles. He glances between the both of you, but shrugs. "We've never had anyone with a vision try it yet."

You scan yourself up and down. "Well..." you meet Kaeya's eyes to reassure him. "I don't feel any different. Not bad, just drunk." You give him a sloppy thumbs up, elbow supported up by the table.

Kaeya shakes his head at you, smiling. You can hear his amusement in his voice, "I'll try that next, but I gotta hit the head before I give it a shot." He runs a hand over your hair that lazily slides down your cheek before he gets up and goes to find the bathroom.

As he does so, a large group of patrons exit the bar for the night, so Charles picks up his empty plate tray and swings his towel over his shoulder. "Holler if you need anything," he says, and you swivel your thumbs up towards him.

He leaves the bar to collect the glasses and trays, and as he does so you turn to ponder your drink.

Your thoughts space out, mingling images of Venti's happy, laughing face and what his thoughts would be on this drink, shifting over to Kaeya, his hands on your face, resting against him at the bar, and—

"Excuse me?" You jolt up, focus broken from the still slowly swirling beverage in front of you.

"Can I help you?" You direct your gaze towards them. It's a man, a young man, with windswept brown hair dressed in the knight's uniform. His cheeks are rosy, but clearly he has more of his wits about him than you.

Not that you couldn't hold your own against him, regardless. But he didn't seem to know that.

He sits down in Kaeya's seat to look at you.

"I saw your vision when it started glowing. That was really cool."

You turn and give him a smile. At least he's friendly. "Thanks! I got it from doing things." You give him your best serious wobbly nod and he chuckles at you.

"Well, anyway, I'm Browen."

"Nice to meet you Browen, I'm [___]".

He smirks at you, taking your answer as an invitation to continue. "I have a vision myself you know."

Your eyebrows raise. "Really?" You glance around his form, but don't spot the framed crystal anywhere.

"Yeah," he says, "I keep it at home because I'm not supposed to wear it around the other knights." He leans close to you, putting his hand up to his mouth like he's sharing a secret. "They get jealous." He winks over at the table where his knight companions are more focused on their own drink and camaraderie than on whatever was happening here.

"I could take you home, show it to you," he prompts, and you feel disappointment rush through you. Of course he's a liar who just wants to get into your pants because you have a vision. You need to tell Jean to whip these men into better shape.

"What would you like to show us, Browen?" A hand claps hard onto the knight's shoulder as a familiarly sultry voice soothes your agitated nerves. The man shoots up straight, expression changing to one like a dog caught stealing.

He stands up, stumbling over himself to get back to his original table. "N-nothing, Captain. Sorry to bother you."

You sigh as he leaves, tension flooding out of you. "That's more like it."

"Come on, love." Kaeya swings his arms around your shoulders and tosses coin on the table for Charles when he returns.

"Where are we going? We're not going to finish?" You glance up at him, your shoulders at his rib level.

The hand around your arm squeezes as he ducks down to whisper in your ear, "oh, I think my home private show is going to remain private."

[anonymousdandelion]

Thank you for the tag!! The ends of my WIP files tend to have a bunch of disjointed half-sentences or out-of-context excerpts that haven't yet (and may not at all) find a home in the fic. Here, however, is the last full line that actually has a place in "A Quintet of Foxes"

“Crowley,” he said, pausing in writing, “once we finish the paperwork, how long is this processing period going to take?”

No-pressure tagging @geometricfractal, @ineffablefool, @fatcatgospel, @benevolentbirdgal, and anyone else who feels like playing!

Last line game

Thanks for tagging me @zadusk! I’m supposed to share the last line of my current WIP:

“London? No, they changed it. It comes out in Los Angeles now.”

From an as-yet-unnamed fic about my OC angels from Smoke and Mirrors

Tagging @anonymousdandelion @flameraven @ineffable-doll and @ngkiscool as well as anyone else who’s interested and wants to join in!

[magpietyy]

Gonna just leave this here to keep track of my Shuggy fics... Don't mind it. Just keep scrolling.

Cannon adjacent AU and light of my life: dandelion gold (on going; 6/15 chapters posted).

au-au-blog's AU that I kidnapped: The King's Fool (on going; 1/?? chapters posted).

Musician Shanks/ Actor Buggy AU: lilac wine (1 - 2 shot currently on shot #1).

[performativezippers]

Hiiii :) fan of your fics here :) i apologize if you already answered this before (feel free to ignore since I’m kinda new here) but what’s been your fave Kacy fic to write? And favorite genre/trope for fic to write/read (if you read any)?

Great questions!! I honestly can’t pick a favorite of mine. I love them all?? I reread all of them when I feel like something comforting or enjoyable and they all hit the spot. Dandelion is fun, Bar is thirsty and canon adjacent, Coda and One Wave are deep Kate character work and angst, Awake is deep Lucy character work and angst, Ultimatum is a study in intimacy. I love them all!

And I think it’s easier to say tropes I don’t like to read: high school, accidental pregnancy, fake dating, what if nothing bad had ever happened to anyone ever

[frozenwolftemplar]

Writer’s Month Day 2: Perfume

Here we go! First post for the event on tumblr!

Fandom: Tangled: The Series (though it’s one of my ‘Little Cass’ fics, so it’s a ‘series adjacent’ sort of fic 🙃)

Rating: G (No Archive Warnings Apply)

Summary: One of the maids brought in a ‘big purchase’ she just made, and Cass is determined to Investigate the mysterious bottle of...whatever that is.

+++

“Oooohhh!”

“Heavenly!”

“Simply divine!”

The gleaming, glinting words of praise rustled like a fine lady’s skirts from the knot of dandelion-dressed maids occupying the far corner of the castle staff dining hall. They brushed sleepy morning cobwebs from the air as they promenaded gaily over abandoned mugs that sighed contentedly over their dregs, a wayward wooden betting fish left over from last night’s game of whist whose painted eye yearned after its school, and threaded over and under long utilitarian tables right into the pricked and searching ears of one Cassandra, crouched and invisible in the shadows under a bench.

She didn’t normally hang around in the dining hall after breakfast; nothing interesting usually happened then. Edith and Minnie cleared the dishes and talked over bows (strange bows that were handsome and dreamy and you wouldn’t mind your babies taking after, which made for a very weird picture; she never wanted babies, but knew if she did she would want them to look like people, not ribbons), sometimes Lazy John or Smith or some other Guard ran back in because they remembered they left their gloves or penknife at their seat, and that was that. Far more boring than the training grounds or stable yards or the Captain’s office.

 Today, though, was different. She was on a Most Interesting Mission: Jane, a wiry blonde-tressed maid with a snub nose, had brought in the special purchase she’d spent the past month saving her wages for (and being cagey about even as she bragged over her frugality and economy and a bunch of other things that made her stand taller and everyone else roll their eyes) and Cass was determined to find out what it was.

Thus, after breakfast, she crawled under a bench so no one would notice her and suddenly remember she should be watched, and sat quiet as a mouse, ears and eyes keen to scoop up any clues that fell her way. So far she had determined that the whatever-it-was:

Was expensive (since it cost a month’s of wages)

Was small enough to fit in a pocket (since Jane’s had bulged oddly when she came to breakfast).

Was something that made the other maids gasp when they saw it (pleased gasps, not the kind they made when she showed off the big frog she’d caught all by herself).

Was something Elisa the kennel girl (the sole non-gasper) wasn’t interested in, since she left as soon as she saw it and didn’t stay to partake in the ensuing passing-around of the treasure.

Was, with a clever wink courtesy of Jane, ‘for tonight’ (whatever that meant; Cass knew there was some sort of celebration going on in the square, but every time she asked Daddy what ‘Matchmaking’ was, he got distracted. She was hoping it involved a big game of concentration, which she was *very* good at).

Now, from her Investigating Spot, Cass nibbled thoughtfully on a nail, adding her newest batch of clues (Was ‘heavenly,’ ‘simply divine,’ and, as Fallon was saying just now, ‘just like a Lady’s’) to the ones she’d already gathered. What could Jane have got that was expensive, maid-happy-gasp inducing, and worthy of all those pretty and dancing words but not Elisa’s attention?

She turned them over in her head, knocked them against each other like pieces of a puzzle, trying to figure out how they fit together so she could see the picture they formed. Not a dagger or anything really neat like that, the maids didn’t appreciate the finer things in life; probably not a book, ‘cause then Elisa would have stayed; jewelry....hmm...maybe? That could be it- 

“I love the scent!” 

The puzzle picture crumbled at this newest piece of information, landing Cass back at square one, no closer to solving this mystery than she was when she started.

She huffed, propping her chin in her hand and slumping dispiritedly. Maybe she should try a different tactic...

“Alright, girls!”

The bonneted heads turned at the brisk sound of Frau Dagmar clapping her hands from the doorway. “That’s enough of that. You’ve had your fun, now it’s about time you started seeing to your duties lest you want to work through tonight’s festivities. On with it!” 

Frau Dagmar was not one to be challenged, a Captain among the frilly, flighty maids, so in less time than one could say “Yes, ma’am,”  the room was emptied of all persons save one.

Crawling out from her hiding spot, Cass frowned, brushing dirt from her skirt. Well, so much for that. Everyone left. Now she’d have to find another way to figure out what Jane’s big purchase was (technically, she could ask, but what was the fun in that?). 

She was just about to turn and head out of the hall to skulk around the mending room for more crumbs of reliable gossip when the corner of her eye snagged on something bright and glinting from the table where the maids had gathered.

Cass’s eyes widened as a triumphant grin burst across her face.

In the bustle of passing-around and leaving-for-work, Jane’s purchase had been left behind!

She’d certainly notice (Jane was uncommonly sharp for a maid), so she would have to be quick about it. Hurrying over, Cass climbed up on top of a bench at the table in question. There, resting temptingly close to the edge, was a bottle.

But not a normal bottle. This one wasn’t tall and oblong with a long, skinny neck. Instead it was stubby and squat, reminding Cass of a sun sparrow sitting with puffed breast atop a fence-post, and had a little rosebud of a neck. It was made of glass, or at least it appeared to be, but it wasn’t smooth like a mirror or a windowpane; it was bumpy all over, a raspberry of a bottle, the image made complete by the pale-pink liquid prettily filling it.

Cass canted her head to a side, brow furrowed. This was Jane’s big purchase? A tiny bottle filled with juice (because what else could it be)? What was so great about that? Maids really were weird; good thing she was going to be a Guard.

That’s when Cass noticed something else about the bottle: it was uncorked.

For a long moment, the empty mugs and lonesome fish and Albert’s left-hand glove played enraptured audience to the sight of Cassandra working her way through a most thorny dilemma.

On the one hand, Jane had brought the bottle to the common area, passed it around, and carelessly left it unattended when she left. Basically, this constituted an open invitation for further touching and Investigating.

On the other...

“Cassandra! How many times must I tell you? Don’t touch!!!”

Cass shrank in on herself with a whimper and scooched back a little on the bench, as though it was the bottle itself shouting the reprimand instead of the faint, dusty echo of voice that raced up, biting as a winter wind, from some deep dark corner of herself her thoughts couldn’t (wouldn’t?) go. It hurt, that voice, a stinging switch against her calves, an iron hand wrenching her arm back so it would do as the voice commanded, just...making her feel so bad. And even though she didn’t know who or where it came from, it still kept her hands twined around the remnants of her ponytail and *not* reaching for the bottle, because she was never supposed to touch bottles like this.

But...

The light streaming through the window glinted playfully, temptingly, on the glass, scattering specks of rainbows across the table as it laughed over the raspberry bumps. It was the sort of bottle that wanted to be picked up, rolled satisfyingly between your palms, and have the rosy liquid inside Investigated.

And again, it was like Jane was inviting her.

Shaking off the silent command keeping her hands to herself, Cass reached for the bottle, lifted it to her nose, and sniffed.

WHOA!

Cass jerked her head back, nearly tumbling off the bench, nose tingling ferociously from the cacophony of scents that had leapt into it. Still keeping ahold of the bottle, she rubbed her nose furiously to stamp out a forthcoming tattletale of a sneeze. She’d smelled a lot of things around the castle, but nothing like this. Clearly, this juice couldn’t make up its mind what it wanted to smell like. 

Part of it was citrus-y, pert sunshine and a laugh waiting to be had; another part was apple-y, smooth and round and honest as the autumn sky; yet another part was flowers, so many flowers, a contingent that would have the castle gardens waving the white flag. All things that smelled nice on their own, but evidentially did *not* get along when all crammed into the same bottle.

Cass’s confusion sharpened as she regarded the bottle, liquid laughing as it sloshed against the sides. Fallon’s nasally voice had said it was a ‘lovely’ scent. How could anyone think this was ‘lovely?’ Honeysuckle was lovely. This was not. Maybe she was missing something? Or maybe Fallon just had a weird idea of ‘lovely?’ That would make sense.

But what about the other maids’ praises? Cass frowned, thinking harder, then grinned with sudden realization. Of course! This was juice! What mattered was how it *tasted!* That’s what the other maids must have been enjoying! This stuff must be a reverse of coffee, which smelled great but tasted terrible: bad smell, heavenly and simply divine taste.

Cass beamed. Boy, was she great at figuring things out! Now to celebrate her victory with a taste (because clearly, Jane was okay with that and it was only fair).

With that thought in mind, Cass lifted the bottle to her lips just as Jane opened the door.

“CASSANDRA!” “YIPE!’ *CRASH!* ************************* “There.” Cass stood back from Rapunzel so the princess could fully take in her reflection in the floor-length mirror. “Done.”

Rapunzel grinned at her reflection, clad in a leaf-green dress cut to the latest fashions (sleeves long and neckline short), golden hair in an elegant pearl-studded braid, and sun-shaped topaz pendant resting against her collarbone.

State dinners had their drawbacks, but dressing up like this wasn’t one of them.

“Thanks, Cass.” Rapunzel grinned at her friend in the mirror as Cass collected discarded gowns (arriving at the green had been a lengthy process). “Hope this didn’t take too long.”

“It’s fine, Raps.” Cass glanced at the clock, then the darkening sky, and sighed, picking up a purple dress whose damning fault had been three-quarter sleeves (”I wear those everyday; I want something special tonight”). “What matters is you’re set now. Head on down while I-“

“Wait!”

Cass froze, hand poised over a sky-blue dress (“It doesn’t feel like a ‘blue’ day”).

“I almost forgot!”

“Raps...” Cass’s groan followed Rapunzel as she darted to her vanity. “I *promised* your dad you wouldn’t be late again. You have enough jewelry.”

“It’s not that.” Raps spun back, presenting Cass with a small faceted bottle filled with clear liquid. “Perfume!”

“Ugh.”

“Huh?” Rapunzel’s brow wrinkled as she blinked at Cass’s disdainful expression. “Don’t you like perfume, Cass?”

“Nope,” Cass said remorselessly.

“Why not?” Rapunzel uncorked the bottle and took a whiff. “It’s heavenly!”

Cass huffed as she tossed a different green dress onto her armload (”Wait, didn’t I wear this last time?”) as Rapunzel poured some on a handkerchief and dabbed it behind her ears. “If your idea of ‘heavenly’ is smell so strong they’re shunned by the natural world.”

“Oh, come on, Cass! Perfume’s *fun!*”

“Not for me.”

A teasing grin wended across Rapunzel’s face as she crossed her arms and watched Cass pick up the last of the dresses strewn about the floor and head for the closet. “Come on, Cass; are you really telling me you’ve *never* worn perfume?”

For a moment, Cass froze, rifling through memories and the roster of castle staff (of which Jane was no longer part), then said, decisively, “Nope.”

Because really, even if there *had* still been a witness to testify otherwise on the palace payroll, accidentally dumping an entire bottle of citrus-apple-flower perfume on yourself when you were five so you wound up smelling like a tropical cider press for a solid week didn’t count.

[rosysugarr]

so Rosy, fun fact: i'm currently writing the next chapter of the Trampled Dandelions fic (still towards the beginning) and i just. td!Wilbur My Absolute Beloved <3

this man has just arrived to a server, got told, By His Son No Less, that his younger brother was getting stalked over a couple of discs, had the perfectly reasonable reaction of "What The Actual F**k??" and then, instead of trying to talk about it like a normal person, went "If (td!)Dream Wants A Problem, Then I'll Give Him A F**king Problem." the "problem" in question that Wilbur creates is a Literal Drug Van That Turns Into A Country

just. he<3

I love how Wilbur's standard response to things in anything dsmp-adjacent is "start a country about it." It's like. What could he do that would require the MOST effort and cause the most problems possible

[anonymousdandelion]

So many wonderful offerings by so many wonderful creators — I highly recommend taking some time to browse through the auction listing and see what people are offering!

If anyone is interested in getting a custom Good Omens fanfic from me (while supporting an organization of your choice from a list of amazing nonprofits), my offering details are here. And if you’re considering bidding but would like to run your prompt/what you’re looking for by me before deciding if I’m the right person for it, please feel free to reach out via DM or asks anytime this week!

FTH Auction Browsing Is Open!

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Remember: Bidding does not start until Wednesday morning. Bidding forms are not currently open. If you find one accepting bids due to some glitch, any bids placed before 8am EST on February 23 will not be valid.

There is a sticky explaining Dreamwidth's tagging system if you haven't used it before - their tags are really great, it's one of the main reasons we host the auction there!

If you are a creator, there is also a list of things to check your auction post for. Browsing week isn't just for bidders - it's an important time for you to make sure your auction is the way you want it before bidding opens!

As always, if you find any problems, please email us rather than contacting us via social media: fandomtrumpshate @ gmail.com

[anonymousdandelion]

[fisherrprince]

*slides in on fuzzy socks* hi hello i was wondering. If you have any fic recommendations for kh. Because I just finished kingdom hearts three and am looking at the number of fics on ao3 and am Very intimidated so,,,, (dont feel like you gotta resp to this tho!)

oh anon, yes

I’m gonna break this into two categories, not because I have 100 bookmarks for you, but because organization makes me happy and I think just coming out of KH would make u more inclined to canonverse than aus or more conceptual fics… all of which I have!! And keep in mind a lot of really good fics on ao3 are ships. So let’s see here

canonverse/canon-adjacent

(I don’t need you to) worry for me - cigna_hime - I present you with an amazing fic about vanitas seeking out ventus way before he was supposed to, and ending up a wayfinder. Fic that makes me feel soooooo many emotions

Dandelion seeds - corishadowfang - khux likers do you want more dandelions? And Union leaders? Of course you do dandelion seeds is a collection of oneshots following ephy and the other leaders as they try to run daybreak town for four years together. This has made me cry as well. If you like this read her other work it has subject x skuld and treasure planet in it yes yes yes

Like some pitch moon - alcor - this one is very violent and it is also VERY SATISFYING, im not even a leaisa and leaisa go BRRRRR. also there’s some really cool stuff with ymx and kairi in here. Lea and Kairi enter the final battle of kh3 together, and something sure hits the fan.

runs on happy faces - bukkunkun - short, sweet, so sweet, so so sweet, sora grows up on the gummiship

the joining of unlike things - mousapelli - love this one!! worldbuilding about keychains!! Forging keychains! Roxas and riku and sora and aqua!

reminiscent - therasia - REMINISCENT GOOD. Ventus misses Vanitas (or at least the challenge) and goes to fight the vanitas remnant about it, to the detriment of literally just himself a lot. Tagged as ship but as it’s unfinished, it’s not really there yet

like old times (before we had a care in the world) - prototyping - I could prolly have a whole category about wayfinder fluff. I do have a whole category about wayfinder fluff psst hey kid

aus (outside of canon)

See you in shibuya - end-alls - TWEWY TIME this one is FUN. It’s a whole what if about yozora, Sora, and riku in the reapers game, and I love the spec worldbuilding and character stuff. also vanitas gets a leather jacket. What more could you ask for

they may pass - magicites - ventus vanitas ffx au! a sellsword and an al bhed summoner complete their pilgrimage. I’m on the floor sobbing my eyes out and the author knows I’ve done this multiple times and she laughs at me (not really she’s very nice.)

cough it out - ??? - verrrrry cute soriku confession fic. sora is sick and riku accidentally gets roped into not avoiding him anymore. Also sora is obsessed with Disney movies

cool sea turtle beats to relax/rehabilitate to - frootlups - dandelions run a sea turtle rescue and it’s literally one of the only chatfics I have ever found that feels like an actual discord server they would have. this one is so fun and Ephemer saying “I’m literally obsessed with you. Like wtf is wrong with you” is in my head forever

at the edge of hope - bookwormally - PACIFIC RIM AU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! currently being updated WHAT more could you WANT they pilot JAEGARS TOGETHER

umbra, penumbra - end-alls - vanitas-ventus roleswap. Ventus is spooky scary, and gets his hand licked by a darkness rat. I made fanart for this one it makes me go :]

a lot of these authors have many other very good works, and I have a stockpile of fics that are Similar (like my ten wayfinder fluff fics) - so, like if there’s only one oneshot here or only one cool au and you want more, lemme know and I’ll let you know if I have em! I kind of guessed and went for the medium long, some shorter

[okay-j-hannah]

All’s Fair In Love And War

The Marauders : Fic

Sirius x Reader and James x Reader!Platonic 

Word Count: 3492

Warnings: ANGST my guy... copious amounts of ANGST but with a happily ever after 😊

Request: “Dudee! May the best man win was awesome! Please give us a part two of Y/N ignoring them so hard and making them regret!” - Anon

A/N:

Part 1: May The Best Man Win

Remus tapped his quill incessantly into his desk, unable to concentrate on his exam. A few rows away he could see Peter staring at his parchment with his fidgeting hands in his lap. He had no idea where to begin with the list of questions.

Beside him was James, a sight to behold. Not wishing to be caught by McGonagall, he only snuck a few glances at his pale friend. James was disheveled, his hair unkempt as ever but with something more unnerving – as if he didn’t even care to look at it, brush it. The effort appeared to be in his school uniform, at least he managed to fold his collar despite how wrinkled the rest of his shirt was. His tie was loose, and it remained the reason Remus knew his friend was still breathing, cause he could see it rising and falling on his chest.

He was just sitting so still. He was staring into nothing. The circles under his eyes could rival Remus’ around a full moon.

And adjacent to him was an empty desk, one that should be housing Sirius. He hadn’t even shown up for their end of year exam.

Remus sighed, feeling his quill tip dull under the pressure he prodded. At least James was able to show. He had no doubt Sirius was brooding in the corner of the common room, butterbeer in hand. Or else he was sitting beside the Blake Lake, toes turning blue as he stuck his feet in the water.

Yes, at least James came to the Great Hall to take his exam, even if he wasn’t looking at the parchment. Remus knew he was staring at the pair of girls at the other end of the hall.

There was (Y/N) and her friend Mary, each scribbling along their exams as the rest of the students should be. McGonagall began walking between the desks and Remus returned his gaze to his own scroll of transfiguration questions.

It had been a few weeks since those dreaded Easter holidays and every second had been a personal hell for the marauders. James was humbled, became extremely tolerant, and had lost his first quidditch game in years. Sirius became something more irritable; he was edgy and sought the solidarity of dark corners. He rarely socialized, couldn’t even bring himself to take the mickey out on Peter.

It was a grand awakening for James, it made him regret and change. He no longer felt the need to terrorize younger students or attack Snivellus. He was kinder to those around him and even offered to help where he could. Though he did all of it with a glazed look in his eyes and a depressed smile on his face.

Sirius, in the classic fashion of being James’ complete opposite, turned in on himself. He became self-deprecating and didn’t wish to inflict that torment on anyone else. He believed in every ounce of hate he received, in the amount of guilt he harbored. He struggled to see past the bad. His life was teeming with it.

The Great Hall doors burst open, and the flittering steps of Professor Dumbledore appeared. At his side was a very reluctant Sirius.

“Ah, Professor McGonagall,” he said with lightness that did not match the person beside him. “I believe you’re missing a student.”

“Black,” McGonagall snipped, walking towards him and eyeing his ruffled clothes, “You’re thirty minutes late.”

Sirius merely shrugged his shoulders, looking anywhere but the corner of the room (Y/N) and Mary stared.

McGonagall released a heavy sigh, though her brow modeled concern. “Well, take your seat. You’ve still got around an hour to finish the exam. I suggest you use the time wisely.” She shared a look with Dumbledore as Sirius retreated.

Remus and James followed their friend with worry in their eyes, but his desk was too far for them to ask silent questions.

Sirius merely slumped in his chair and twiddled with his quill. He may have been forced to be there, but that didn’t mean he was going to comply with the test taking. Remus forced himself to return his attention to his own exam. And the rest of the hour was filled with a ticking clock and scratching quills.

By the time McGonagall waved her wand and called forth the scrolls of parchment, Remus devised another tactic to fix the wellbeing of his companions. Instead of greeting James and Peter, he chose to wait by the door until (Y/N) came by.

She had her head held high, book bag tight on her arm.

“(Y/N).”

“Not now, Remus, I’ve got to study for Charms.” Mary was nearby, leading the way outside. “I don’t want to hear some other passed along apology.”

Remus wringed his hands, falling into step beside her, “I’m not trying to speak for them. I just want to talk to you. I – I’m worried.”

There was a small pause in her steps, but she kept forward, “It’s none of my concern.”

“But they’re not getting any better,” a new curt edge in his tone, “They’re not themselves anymore.”

“I distinctly remember saying that they don’t exist anymore. I don’t care, Remus.”

“You don’t want to care.”

She finally stopped and turned to him, “I’m moving on. And I won’t be able to keep doing that if you bring this up every time I see you.” But she hesitated at the look on his face, “Remus, what’s wrong?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes full of fretting, “I know you think this was some kind of joke – and it was for a while – but I don’t think you realize how far they fell for you.”

“And that’s supposed to make what they did okay?”

“No,” he bit back, “Not at all. But what’s happening to them right now, that is proof that they regret. That they are sorry for what they did. I think they…”

(Y/N) folded her arms, clearly unimpressed, “Think they what?”

“They need a little forgiveness to get better.”

“No,” she snapped, whipping around and continuing down the entryway, “I’m glad they’re stewing in their regret. They should be.”

“For how long, (Y/N)?” Remus begged, following her steps, “I’m tired of watching them wither away.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “You were there when we had this conversation. I don’t want to see or speak to them. Ever.”

Remus felt his blood boil over, “It’s killing them, (Y/N)! And I won’t watch it anymore. I am terrified that they’re going to be like this forever. You see them, (Y/N), I know you do. You look when you think no one’s around.”

She stiffened, “What do you want me to do, Remus? I can’t forgive them – not yet at least.”

“Please, just talk to them. Make them feel less invisible.”

“I don’t know…”

Remus grabbed her shoulders and made her face him. “James keeps his snitch locked away in his trunk. Sirius gets detention and then does it without a fuss.” Her gaze was hard, but he could see it thinning. “I can’t get James to do so much as nick food from the kitchens – all he does is study like the obedient student he’s never been. I don’t think I’ve heard Sirius make a complete sentence since the holidays. He refuses to even keep company with his friends.”

She swallowed hard, “They hurt me, Remus. They hurt me bad. It’s – It’s hard for me to look past the game they played. Even if their feelings have changed.”

“Please, (Y/N), I’m begging,” he retorted. “Just talk to them, get some closure. I know you made a choice back on that train. Could you just give them some piece of mind? I’m sure it would help you too.”

She looked up at him with some remorse in her gaze, until it flitted to whatever was behind his shoulder.

He whipped around and found Sirius standing several feet away. There was a slouch in his shoulders and his hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes. But there was clear pain and longing there where he stared back.

(Y/N) took an involuntary step backward, hands winding tight around her book bag. Her breathing hitched in her throat and Remus sidestepped.

Sirius took a shaky breath, his eyes purple rimmed and stinging, “(Y/N) …”

But she had already turned on her heel and darted towards her common room. The sigh that escaped Sirius had Remus at his shoulder in an instant.

~~~

There was no one else on the quidditch pitch when she sat in the stands. She sat there and waited, her heart thumping a thousand beats a second. She knew he’d be walking by any minute; he always did on the weekends.

She could hear footsteps thumping against the grass and a chill went up her spine. James came around the corner, kicking dandelions as he went. But his steps faltered, his eyes went wide.

“(Y/N)?”

The edge of fear in his voice put a familiar thump in her chest, “Hey, James.”

His breathing got heavier, his hands running up to tangle in his hair, “You… you’re not running away.”

“I wanted to talk.”

After spending so much time avoiding him, it was a shock to see the state of him. His glasses hid most of the tiredness in his eyes, but he was pale, paler than usual. His voice was raspy where he choked on the words.

“Talk?” She patted the seat next to her and watched him weigh whether or not she was joking before sitting. “Had a change of heart?”

She took a deep breath, keeping her hands tight in her lap. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking a lot about the last time we talked. What I said to you.”

“It’s all right, (Y/N). You were right – you had the right to be angry. I’m just… I’m glad we’re talking now.”

She turned to him and was met with a pained grimace, “I think you need to hear me say it.” He shut his mouth real quick. “James, what you did was horrible, terrible. I thought of it as unforgiveable. But if there’s anything that could’ve proven to me that you guys felt differently about the joke, it’s how you guys have been behaving the last few weeks.

“I think I’ve been punishing you because of my own embarrassment. But honestly – this grudge holding deal isn’t healthy for either of us.”

“You’re looking better than any of us,” James laughed, disbelief ringing in his ears.

She smiled his favorite smile, “I forgive you James.”

He sighed, leaning over and putting his head in his hands. “Thank you, (Y/N), thank you.” He turned to her with an earsplitting grin, “I know I was stupid and arrogant, and it was just some childish bet. We didn’t think about the people we would hurt.”

She started to laugh, “I know, James – that’s why you’re forgiven.” But then she caught the subtle look in his eyes, and she had to suck in her lips. “Look James…”

“It wasn’t going to be me, was it?” the understanding in his voice was remarkable.

“You’re not mad?”

He leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes beneath his glasses, “Mad? You’ve just forgiven me from one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done – of course I’m not mad.”

(Y/N) ran sweaty hands against her knees, “I think you should talk to Lily.” That made his eyebrows raise, “Ever since you’ve knocked down your ego a few notches, she’s started seeing the good in you.”

A newfound smile crept onto his face, “There might be a happy ending for us all yet. Have you told… Sirius?” The stillness of her expression gave the answer away, “You know, I think he’s been far worse than me. You’re going to want to find him quick.”

She shared a glance with him and an appreciative smile, “It’s so good to talk to you again.”

~~~

It didn’t take her long to track down Sirius, he hid out in only a few different places those days. She kept James beside her, each taking turns talking and catching the other up on all they’ve missed. They trailed down the corridor, James falling easily back into how things used to be with (Y/N).

“Let me carry your book bag.”

“James…” The edge in her voice made him laugh, even more as she raised a brow.

“I’m just being friendly, just like we used to.”

And with a comforting feeling of nostalgia, she handed her bag over, giving him a swift punch to the arm for good measure. He rubbed the spot mockingly with a dramatic whine on his lips.

“So how do you suppose I should talk to Evans?”

“You can start by calling her by her first name.”

“She likes being called Evans.”

“Since when has she liked anything you do, James?”

He shrugged half-heartedly, “Just recently, if my sources are correct.”

(Y/N) sighed with an easy smile on her face, “You made friends with me fairly quickly. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

James pondered with an animated look, “All right, you want to make a bet? How fast I’ll win Lily’s affections?”

“Too soon, Potter – way too soon.” But she was smiling, nonetheless. So much so that she didn’t notice the new visitor coming down the hall.

They were on their way towards one of the secret entrances that the Marauders discovered for their map of mischief. There was always the chance of finding one of the quartet skulking in the entryway or hiding along the passage in case Filch or Minnie was after them.

It appeared Sirius had taken such refuge, deciding to come out when he heard familiar voices. And the sight before him took what shattered glass his chest was and refine it to sand.

(Y/N) and James were walking side by side, laughing and talking as if no time had passed between the Easter holidays and now. Then deep in his gut, he knew, (Y/N) had chosen James – it was James from the beginning.

She chose to forgive James and now they were going to live happily ever after.

And Sirius was left to despair in painful silence.

(Y/N) looked up and found her sweet smile vanish instantly. James was quick to follow, readjusting the bag on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, as if the words he was just saying were suddenly lodged in his throat.

“Back at it, I see.” The hoarseness in Sirius’ voice was heart wrenching.

James flickered his eyes towards (Y/N), noticing her shock, and saying, “How are you, mate? It’s been a bit.”

“A bit.” Sirius muttered, repeating the last words with a hardened gaze. “You’ve moved on since last I saw you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t bear to hear the betrayal and anguish in his words. She knew what it looked like. Like she had chosen James and didn’t want to waste her time keeping Sirius in her life.

“Sirius.”

The way she said his name sent a flood of emotion in him that Sirius didn’t like. He didn’t like not being in control of his emotions. He didn’t like that he couldn’t hold himself together. He hated the fact that seeing her looking back at him after all this time was crumbling him as if she’d yelled at him all over again.

“I won’t bother you. Enjoy your evening.” And Sirius turned as quickly as his sleep deprived, wobbly knees would let him, and leave the corridor.

(Y/N) took one step forward and hesitated, a hand outstretched, but the words wouldn’t form from her jumbled thoughts. There was only a look of horror as she watched him leave. James was eyeing her with sympathy, his heart just as punctured by Sirius’ obvious loathing.

“Look at your face,” he feigned a smirk, “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

She finally shut her gapping mouth, biting her lip, “Now more than ever.”

James nodded, putting an arm around her shoulders and leaning down to whisper, “Then go after him.”

In an instant she was running down the corridor, turning sharp and feeling her shoes slide from her momentum. Her throat was dry, and her eyes burned, but she ran like there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

And there was Sirius about to make his way outside and to the courtyard. But she yelled for him first.

“Sirius!”

When he turned there were obvious tears in his eyes, tears that betrayed him and fell at the sound of her voice.

“Sirius, wait, please!”

He could only dare to imagine what she meant by that. But it was enough to keep him rooted to the spot. She was talking to him for the first time in weeks. She was looking at him with something other than hatred.

And the fine sand of his chest rustled with hope against his wishes.

(Y/N) ran so fast that when she collided with him, he was almost knocked off his feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tight against her.

His breathing quickly began to rise to match hers, though he wasn’t the one who had just ran down the stretch of a few corridors. His arms remained limp at his sides, disbelief etching every part of his face.

Only to feel the doubt creep in.

She just wanted to clear the air, so it wasn’t awkward for James and her. She wanted him to be happy for her and James. She wanted them to be friends again.

The problem was that he wasn’t going to survive witnessing those two together.

“(Y/N), don’t do that.” He reluctantly reached for her arms and pulled her away, “You can’t do that.”

He was oblivious to the immediate confusion in her reddened face, “What are you talking about, Sirius? Do you not want me anymore?” Again he didn’t notice how her eyes began to fill with tears similar to his.

He dared to look at her face, to see the features he’d been dreaming about for weeks. He let his gaze linger despite the yelling in his head to spare himself from the pain that would later come. Another hot tear escaped the corner of his eye.

“How could you ever think that?”

She sighed out an exhausted breath, “You are determined to stay unhappy, aren’t you?” When his loving gaze faltered into confusion, she continued, “Sirius, what you saw back there… that was James and I being friends. I just spoke to him this morning and we made up. We decided to be friends again, and to just be friends. The only reason I spoke to him first was because… well, I was more nervous about talking to you.”

Sirius was too busy going over what he had seen earlier, analyzing the interactions between (Y/N) and James.

“Sirius, what happened between us was horrible. I was so hurt that I didn’t give any thought to how you felt. Obviously, an entire school year is a long time to spend with one person, and I’m sure pretending became real very quickly.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes itchy from the tears. But he didn’t dare speak, it was all too good to be true. He didn’t want to wake up from whatever dream this was.

“I forgive you, Sirius.”

He let out an unexpected breath, blinking fast – he was not ready for it. His hands clenched into fists as she took another step closer.

“I forgive you – and it’s been paining me to see you like this. That I did this to you.”

“I did this to myself,” he rasped, “You could never do anything so cruel. Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

Then she was holding his face in her hands, wiping away his tears. She felt her heart skip at the way his eyes closed, and he leaned into her palm. “I want to make things right.”

He reached up and placed a trembling hand over one of hers. “Friends again?”

She smiled an easy smile that heated his face. “Actually…” And she encased his lips with hers. She could feel the stutter in his breath from shock. His limp arms hesitantly rose to graze her waist, unable to will himself over completely.

She broke away, pecking his lips once – twice – more. “Does that tell you plain enough?”

He was trying his best to get his breathing under control. His lower lip was starting to quiver, “So… just friends then?” A smile broke out on those trembling lips.

“Right,” she laughed, wrapping herself around him again, hugging him tightly. And this time he returned the feeling, holding her close by the waist. “I made my choice a long time ago. It’s just taken me a while to figure out how to tell you.”

Sirius buried his face into her shoulder, feeling his chest begin to repair itself. His heart thumped excitedly.

There was no possible way he was going to let go of her any time soon.

~~~

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[suddencolds]

Bad Timing | Genshin Impact

During Windblume festival, Diluc ends up hosting in an event in a venue that’s suitably decorated. Unfortunately, he just happens to be allergic to the flowers.

(This might be the most self-indulgent allergy fic I’ve ever written, haha. DIluc snzfic + pollen allergies + company from someone... unexpected.)

—

It starts as a miscommunication.

It’s harmless enough. Donna, whom Diluc vaguely remembers seeing outside of the flower shop just adjacent to Angels Share, makes an arrangement with Charles to decorate the Dawn Winery. An act of gratitude, or something along those lines—just in time for Windblume Festival.

At least, that’s how Charles tells him about it, just as Diluc is about to leave from his shift the night before the party.

“Decorations?” he asks. “I see. I will have to give her my thanks. Did she speak to Adelinde about it?”

Charles ponders this, taking his place behind the counter. “I’m not sure,” he says. “She says she hopes it’s to your liking, though.”

It’s all Diluc can do to nod. Decorations for Windblume usually mean one thing, but there’s a reason why the tavern is scarcely decorated, and it’s not that he doesn’t have the means to decorate. The tavern’s current undecorated state—with the exception of pressed-dry flowers or flowerless vines strung around the second floor railings—is meant to accommodate… well.

He doubt Donna knows, because he’s never had a reason to bring it up in conversation. As far as truths go, it’s somewhat embarrassing. For now, he can only hope that her act of kindness isn’t as extensive as he thinks.

— 

It’s an oversight, for sure, but it’s not until he steps foot into the main hall of the winery, two hours before the event’s inception that he realizes the extent of it.

The winery is crowded with flowers. There are snapdragons and cecilias strung up around the balconies, windwheel asters in neatly arranged bouquets on every available table, dandelions and wolfhooks cresting the fireplace. Vines of ivy and windwheel aster blossoms are woven around the staircase railings.

Instinctively, he raises a hand to cover his nose and mouth, as if to shield himself from it all. There’s a telltale itch already settling in his nose.

It’s a beautiful sight. But Diluc is very, very allergic.

He flings every window open—surely the air from outside must be an improvement—and bolts out of the building as soon as he can. Just from a few minutes of occupying the winery, he’s already congested, and his eyes are brimming with allergic tears.

The event—a celebration of the anniversary of the Dawn Winery’s founding, that happens to align closely with Windblume every year—is going to last for five hours. Moreover, there will be esteemed guests present, with which he’ll have to discuss business matters, which means that he has to be present.

Diluc shuts his eyes. Seasonal allergies are not anything that will cause him lasting harm, he’s sure… except, perhaps, to his professionalism. The winery has been in a financially good place these past few years, which means there’s barely any pressure on him to prove his own competence. His presence is more for show than for anything else. This should be fine. A five hour celebration, and then he’ll be out of here. He can ask the maids to deal with taking down the decorations later.

—

He arrives early, stands as far from the floral decorations as he can—it’s difficult; they’re everywhere—to make sure everything is in place. Despite his efforts, the winery is practically a flower garden, thanks to Donna’s well-intentioned arrangements. It’s not long before he’s sniffling again.

His eyes are starting to water, too. He wipes them gingerly on the cuff of his sleeve, sniffles, and nods his acknowledgement to the guests that are starting to file in.

“Sir Ragnvindr,” someone he recognizes as a business associate says to him, holding a flute of champagne. “How are you on this fine evening?”

How does he look? Diluc sniffles again. “I’m well,” he says, rather curtly.

“Mondstadt’s Windblume Festival is certainly a sight,” the associate is saying. “I’m glad I stopped by town at such an opportune moment.”

Diluc can’t think of anything he’d want to do less, right now, than entertain someone’s small talk. “It is one of Mondstadt’s most… hiIh!— most esteemed annual traditions… hiih-!” Damn it. Not now.

The itch in his nose is back. Luckily, the associate either doesn’t notice his predicament or doesn’t find it worth commenting on.

“Is that so? Tell me more about it.”

Diluc sniffles again. Anything to keep his nose from openly running. “I’m... sure… hiIIH-!” Barbatos, he needs to sneeze. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now. “...There are many people here more qualified to recount Mondstadt’s hiIhh-!… history… snf!… than I am.”

The associate raises an eyebrow, cocking his head. “Have you not lived here all your life? The previous owner of the Winery was Crepus Ragnvindr. I was under the impression that he was—”

“My father,” Diluc confirms, before he’s ducking away to stifle a sneeze, almost perfectly contained, into his wrist.

“hiIH’NGxt!” He gasps, sniffling, and presses his wrist closer to his face for the second. “hh…. hiiIH’NDGxt!”

It’s two sneezes, but they’re barely relieving. He raises his head, blinking. “Excuse me. Your assumptions are correct, though I…” he makes the mistake of rubbing his nose—something about the gesture just makes him need to sneeze. “hiIH… it’s been awhile since I’ve, snf, had the chance to properly celebrate, and longer still since… hIIh-!... since I’ve heard the history.”

“That’s strange,” the associate says. “You have lived in Mondstadt your whole life, yet you don’t know it’s history? Then again, I heard that you left for a few years, so maybe you feel no attachment to it.” It’s a thinly-veiled insult, but Diluc is too distracted to address it. He wants nothing more than to sneeze freely, but he’s sure that it would be loud, and it’d draw more attention than he wants right now. For now, he settles for raising a hand to—

“hiIH’DGXxt!” God, his eyes are watering, and the sneeze—though stifled—is forceful enough to jerk him forward, his shoulders shuddering.

The associate cringes. “It is a shame that you are spending the festival unwell.”

“I’m fine,” Diluc says, “Just… snf, just… hih!… HIih’GGKXt-shiu! ngh...” He needs to get out of here. Stifling offers virtually no relief at all, and he’s not going to stop sneezing anytime soon, from the looks of it.

He sighs, rubs his nose on the back of his hand, tells himself he can handle a few extra decorations. “Sorry. Did you, snf, have business matters to discuss?”

The associate’s expression hardens. “As you know, we have been ordering from the winery for a couple months now. I regret to inform you that there have been a few—”

Diluc blinks quickly. He can already feel his breath wavering—the start of another long, embarrassingly desperate buildup, probably.

“—troublesome incidents, specifically regarding the delivery of the wine. The delivery vehicles have been delayed on a handful of occasions—”

“hiIH! snf… hIIiih…”

His nose is tickling with such ferocity it’s almost torturous. He needs to get outside. His allergies are tolerable out in town in the open air, as long as he walks quickly enough and avoids all of the more festive installments. But here, in an enclosed space so thoroughly decorated, in a living room with mediocre circulation at best, surrounded by more flowers than he’s ever seen in his life…

“—just last week, the delivery cart was stopped by an assembly of hilichurl archers that destroyed nearly half the stock. Three weeks before that, the carriage caught the notice of one of Liyue’s Ruin Guards. I expect you are aware of these incidents?”

Diluc clears his throat. “I am. An excess of wine was sent back—hiiH! … in both cases, snf!- as soon as word of these setbacks… hIIH... reached the winery, snf.” The congestion is starting to settle in his voice, dulling his consonants. “You yourself… HIIh-! verified that the shipments m-made… hIIH-! it back to you… HIIIh!”

Sevens above. He doesn’t want to sneeze again, in front of someone who’s looking at him with a combination of disgust and condescension. But he knows, by now, that the most he can do is delay the inevitable.

“Ah,” the man waves a hand dismissively. “We did get the wine eventually. But it was still delayed, you see. Quite—”

—Diluc gasps sharply. “HIIIih-!”

“—an unprofessional experience, to say the least.”

His shoulders tense, as he jerks forward again, catching a barely restrained sneeze between the pinch of his fingers. “hihH'GXNt...! snf, hIIH… HIIH’NGDTtsh!” His body shudders with the release; he can feel the pressure of the sneeze settle behind his eyes, along with a dull ache—he’s going to give himself a headache if he keeps this up. “hiih-!... hiihHH…” This would be less humiliating if he could just sneeze and be done with it. Instead he finds himself caught in buildups that go nowhere, with a tickle in his nose that refuses to abate. “HIIIH… hIH’GZSchhh! snf… hhH-!”

Barely a breath in, his breath is already hitching again. He ducks into his sleeve, cringing, just in time for—

“hh… hiiH!... hh... HIIH’GXnT—shEw!!” The failed attempt at stifling is strangely relieving, all things considered, and he exhales shakily, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“Sir Ragnvindr,” The associate says pointedly. “I’m sure you can see where the problem lies. Delays are not exactly conducive to business.”

Diluc bites back an irritated retort. Delivery to Liyue from Mondstadt is bound to have its complications, given the concentration of enemies outside of the two cities; he’s sure this associate is aware of that, too. He has no control over whether the deliveries get interrupted, and he’s pretty sure it’s the associate’s fault for not putting the orders in in advance.

“What… snf… would you suggest, then?”

The associate smiles. “Given our longstanding role as customers, I believe monetary compensation would only be fair.”

Diluc sighs, scrubs at his eyes with one hand. “You can bring it up with Elzer. He is usually the one to handle these sorts of things,” Diluc says. “In the future, though, to save both of us the trouble, it would be best if you would... snf!... take care to place your orders in advance.”

The man stares back at him, his lip curling. “I beg your pardon?”

“The roads between here and Liyue are dangerous. I cannot always guarantee a safe delivery,” The tickle in his nose is back, relentless. If he’s going to sneeze again, the last thing he wants is to do it in front of this associate. Instead, he turns on his heels, sniffling. “Excuse me.”

He just about bolts from the room, past the floral decorations and up the staircase. The second floor is darker, lit only by the ceiling chandelier. He all but slumps against the wall. His nose is still itching, and he raises a gloved hand as his vision goes watery and indistinct—

“hiIIH’IISCH’iiuu! Hh… hDDt’TTZCSh’u!”

He doesn’t have time to wonder if anyone’s heard. Suddenly he’s gasping again, fumbling for a handkerchief, pulling up one sleeve so he can wipe his nose on the back of his wrist when he doesn’t find one. “Hiih… hiIIIH… snf-!”

The tickle falters just as suddenly, leaving him on the precipice of a sneeze, suspended in ticklish wait. He rubs his nose again, in hopes that the pressure on the bridge of his nose will be just irritating enough to coax out a sneeze, but...

It leaves him panting, his eyes still shut as he stands there, his breath still shaky with anticipation.

“hiIIH…! snf…” Nothing, still. “HIIIh...”

He rubs his nose again, hard, on the back of his wrist. Maybe if he could just sneeze—give his body relief in the fit it so clearly wants—it will solve his predicament for the next fifteen minutes, at least.

He just has to find somewhere quiet.

He rounds the corner on the second floor, stumbles through the door at the end of the hall out onto the balcony. The fresh air is immediately relieving, and he sucks in a long breath, leaning forward on the balcony railing. With the exception of some of the Dawn Winery staff, no one’s outside, and he doubts any of the guests will have reasons to spend enough time on the second floor to find the door that leads here. He figures it’s as good a place as he’ll find, for the time being.

The itch in his nose still burns, almost intense enough to make him shiver. Cecilias are wound around one of the balcony’s wooden rungs—he wonders, momentarily, if it’d be worth it to—

The door behind him swings open. He startles.

“Oh,” someone says from behind him. “...sir Diluc.”

It’s Rosaria, from the church. He doesn’t know much about her—he can probably count the number of words they’ve exchanged on one hand. She’s at the Angel’s Share every Thursday with Kaeya, downing drinks faster he thinks could possibly be healthy—though she must know her limits, given that she never seems to get as drunk as some of the knights do. Now, she eyes him warily.

There’s a windwheel aster clipped to the lapel of her shirt.

“Didn’t expect you to see you here,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you like, the most important person here?”

“Something like that,” he says.

“Then I suspect there’s a reason why you’re hiding out here.”

He doesn’t answer. How can he? “Ah, well, it’s fine,” she says, sounding unbothered. “Whatever reason you have, it doesn’t really matter to me. Hope you don’t mind if I smoke.”

He sniffles, turning away to wipe his nose on his wrist. “I… don’t.”

“Okay. I figured you’d be happier if I did it outside, anyways.” She steps into place next to him, digs through her pockets for a cigarette. “Think you could light it?”

He lowers his hand and turns to face her. Before he has a chance to light it, though, something about the proximity of the flower on her shirt is just enough to set him off — the next breath he takes leaves him gasping, his eyes watering immediately as he ducks violently into his elbow.

“hiIH… nGKTt!”

He’s not even close to done. “hiIH… hiiihH…. HH-!! snf-! hHiih’NDGXtT!”

“Bless you,” she says. “Are you sick?”

“Your… shirt…” is all he manages to gasp out, before he’s pressing his elbow tighter to his face, muffling another sneeze into the fabric of his sleeve—

“hiIH’IIIGXTtt… HIIiH-! Hiih… HIIH’IISsch’iu! Excuse me... HIih’GGKXt!!...”

“Oh,” she says, sounding like he’s just let him in on a secret. “You’re allergic.”

“Unfortunately,” he admits, feeling his face grow hot.

“You should’ve said.” She unclips the windwheel aster from her shirt, gives it half a look, and flicks it over the edge of the balcony.

“Wait,” Diluc says, his eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t mean to… hiIIh-! snf... imply you should get rid of it.”

Rosaria smiles unreadably. “I wasn’t wearing it by choice. A friend coerced me to. Is it just windwheel asters that set you off?”

“It’s… hiiiiH… it’s just about everything… hiIH’ITTSChh! hiIH… NGKTT-shiiu!” It’s getting harder and harder to stifle, but it’s already embarrassing enough to sneeze in front of her in the first place.

“Everything, huh? Sounds awfully inconvenient.”

He lights her cigarette with his vision. “Thanks,” she says, and immediately pulls it in to take an appreciative drag. “Kind of suffocating to be inside with so many businessmen for so long, if you ask me.”

He sniffles harder, rubbing his nose on the cup of his sleeve.“I… snf…! I’m not going to be stopping anytime soon. You should probably… hiih... find somewhere else to smoke… hiiH... hiih’GKTT-!”  

“You know,” Rosaria says, after a beat. “You’d be done sneezing sooner if you didn’t hold them back like that.”

If Diluc wasn’t blushing before, he’s sure he must be blushing now. It’s embarrassing to hear her address his sneezing in such a straightforward manner—he’s starting to see why she gets on so well with Kaeya.

“I’m fine, thanks… hiih… hiiH’NGXT’Sshh! HIIH’GKTT-! ugh...” Maybe she has a point—the stifling is starting to make his head hurt, and he hunches forward, still sniffling, to lean more heavily on the railing.

She shrugs. “Okay. I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind. Why’d you decorate the winery like that, anyway? It seems awfully… masochistic.”

“A misunderstanding. Donna’s doing, though… hiiiH!... it would have been ungrateful if I had taken the decorations down... hiiih... hiIH’GkkT!!” — caught neatly in the palm of his hand. “hIih… hiIIH… nGSSCHh! snf…”

“Sevens, Diluc. Drop the formalities and let yourself sneeze. I’m getting a headache just listening to you.”

He frowns, lifts his hand from his face, only to clamp it back on when he realizes what a mess he’s made out of himself, his skin prickling with embarrassment. “If you’re certain...”

She scoffs, taking another drag of the cigarette. “Trust me. I couldn’t care less.” Usually, smoke doesn’t bother him—his pyro vision would be significantly more inconvenient if it did—but now, with his nose so sensitive, it’s exactly the last push he needs to send him over the edge.

“hIIH.. HIIH…” He blinks through teary eyes, his grip tightening against the railing. “HiiH… iHH'GZCHh-iiu! Hihh… hhD’TTschH’iu! snf.. hiIH... HIHH'iischHiew!”

The relief from letting himself sneeze is immediate and almost dizzying. He gasps again, taking a step back from the balcony. The next sneeze snaps him forward at the waist.

“hiIH’ISCHhiuu! hiIih… GKKTT-’SHiuu!” Rosaria disappears back into the manor, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear her leave, but he’s too out of it to properly react. “Hiih… hiIh… HIIH’ISCCHh’yuu!” He sniffles against his wrist, his shoulders just about slumping with the relief, before they’re tensing again just a few seconds later. “hiih… hiiih.. hiiIH’NGTTT-SHIu! Hiih… HiiH’IIIISCCHh’iuu!”

He groans, sniffling, resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands—it seems like an appealing enough option, if not for the fact that he’s been covering with one of them. The door behind him opens again.

“Thought you might need this,” Rosaria says, and hands him a handkerchief. He takes it gratefully. It’s only after he’s blown his nose into it—quietly—that he trusts himself to speak.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’ll find a time to give it back when it’s clean... snf.”

She blinks at him, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks him over. “Geez, you look awful. I’ll ask Kaeya to stop by later so he and I can take down the decorations for you.”

It’s surprisingly sweet. “You don’t have to,” Diluc says, wincing at the congestion in his voice. “I can get it... dealt with… hiih’IISSSH’iuu!”

“Your maids can, you mean. Still, it will be faster if we help out... your bedroom’s on the second floor, isn’t it?”

When he nods, she shrugs, leaning back casually against the doorframe. “Even more reason to get it cleaned up faster, then. Would it kill you to accept some help for once in your life?”

Diluc sniffles, folding the handkerchief neatly. “I suppose not. I... appreciate it, then.”

She smiles at him. “It’s the least I can do. I’ve been leeching off your free alcohol this whole afternoon, so we can call it even.”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

looking at the books, between jaskier and geralt, geralt isn't the one who should be apologizing; jaskier is the one who feels guilty for being a bad friend (and has nightmares about it in Time of Contempt) and keeps telling everyone they befriend in Baptism of Fire about Geralt's plans, despite Geralt having told him that it's sensitive information. Jaskier multiple times breaks geralt's trust, yet in the eyes of so many fans he's a perfect baby who can do no wrong - let characters have flaws!

I think it’s important to see the show as book-adjacent. They’ve changed so much that they can’t really claim to be sticking to them faithfully. I cannot understand why they changed the djinn scene! For those who haven’t got to the books, the djinn scene was originally Dandelion finding the bottle, being Dandelion about it and Geralt trying to save him. A scene then follows wherein Geralt says he would “sit on a scorpion with his bare arse” to save Dandelion.

I believe the show runners have also said that they wanted to alter Dandelion’s character and “update” him, removing his gross attitude to women, etc (but they left in the wish to have the countess fall in love with him against her will, oddly, and he hasn’t really been brought to task for that as a character). I don’t really want to speak for other fans and their preferences, but I do like it when he has flaws. See comment about “saviour Jaskier”.

Again, fic is wish fulfilment. Some need that catharsis of a perfect Jaskier, or a soft Jaskier, or a goat dad Eskel. These are all personal preferences and reflections.