#do you like not being able to create precise lines in your drawings?

[mephinomaly]

[TL] Wanting a Hand from the Emperor

Summary: Eichi lends Keito a hand with his manga but ends up ruining one of the pages...

Season: Summer

Location: Resting Room

Keito: (...Fumu. There’s quite a lot going on on this manga assistant recruitment bulletin board.)

(I wonder if the event day is drawing nearer. Everytime the page is updated, there's something new to look at. It's getting buried under each post.)

(...I'm a traditional manuscript writer, so I'll have to meet up some when.)

(Starmony Dorms won't do. I'm busy so even if we convened at my parents' house, I'd be unable to meet there late at night.)

(Even if I catch people's eyes, I don't think they'd be able to apply…)

(However, it's incomplete at the moment. Perhaps I should try posting something, and bank on this sliver of hope?)

...

Eichi: Oh, Keito. It's amusing to see you playing with your phone with a face like thunder ♪ Is it alright if I stay and watch?

Keito: I'm not a spectacle to be looked at. Don't stare.

Eichi: Hmhmhm… Oh my, there's all sorts of boards across the world.

Keito: Didn't I tell you not to stare? How incorrigible.

Eichi: Manga…? Are you planning to enter the contest being held by ES' publishing department, Mizuhanome-sensei?

Keito: Don't call me by my pen name. The contest is irrelevant. It's about applying to be a judge.

…Actually, I suppose there's some relevance. After looking at what others have sent in, I too wanted to draw manga.

It's been some time since I last created a doujin. I've been busy with idol work, and I've been unable to draw as much as I'd like.

I've been looking for someone to help me. I'd even let a cat lend me a hand at this point. I've been unable to find anything related…

Eichi: I see. Can I be your cat?

Keito: You…? Have you kept the fact that you applied a secret from me? Are you aware of what it takes to produce manga?

Eichi: Nope, not at all ♪

I have no experience, but I'm curious, you see. I want to experience what Keito is so passionate about.

If you'd accept the help of a cat, won't you accept my help?

Keito: ...

…If I'm honest, this doesn't make me feel any better.

But I've already applied for the event, and the submission deadline is fast approaching. I haven't the luxury to be picky.

You're an amateur, but I suppose you'll do.

Eichi: Mhmhm. Leave it to me ♪

Keito: I'm unsure what you’d do…

I'd like to begin tonight, but how are you holding up?

Eichi: Don't worry. I have tomorrow off, so I wouldn't be doing any strenuous activity anyway.

Keito: Fumu… but staying up late isn't good for your body. If it gets too much, you'll tell me, okay?

Where should we go… We can't go to the dorms since it'll be a bother to the other two…

How about the library? Some use it as a study room so noise won't be an issue. Once you've finished with work, we'll meet up.

Eichi: Alright. Fufu, I'm looking forward to it.

Keito: Good. This will be carnage, so come prepared.

Time: That day, late at night

Keito: (...So Eichi can help, the first thing I had him do is read my original work.)

(As he’s reading silently, I can focus on inking this sketch…)

Eichi: ...

…I’ve read it. Say, where’s the rest?

Keito: There isn’t anymore as that’s the latest issue. I anticipated for you to take longer, but you were very fast, hm?

Eichi: That’s because it was very interesting. I read it without taking a break, you know.

It’s an excellent multi-protagonist piece. Despite having a large cast of characters, each has their place, and the foreshadowing is beautiful.

That’s precisely why I’m so interested, you see. If I get in contact with the publisher, I wonder if they’d tell me what happens next ♪

Keito: Stop it. How senseless of you.

Eichi: Fufu, I’m joking. Uhh, what can I do?

Keito: Would you like to take a break?

Eichi: Keito is kind. That won’t be necessary - I was only reading manga.

Keito: Of course. Then, you can erase this for me.

Eichi: Okay, got it.

Keito: (He’s only erasing the pencil lines, so I can leave him to it.)

(Now I can go back to my work too. Before I ink over this part, I need to amend this part that sticks out.)

Eichi: ...

Time: Some time later

Keito: (...Good. Next is to go over with colour. I’d like to leave this to Eichi as well but—)

(? Speaking of which, Eichi hasn’t given me back the manuscript…)

Eichi…eeEEE!?

Oi! Why are you using correction fluid to erase the lineart!?

Eichi: Why, you ask? You said to “erase this for you.” But I’m just doing what you told me to do?

Keito: I meant with an eraser… That’s my bad, I should have specified.

What I meant was to get rid of the lineart. Like this, using an eraser.

Eichi: I see. What do you plan to do with the manuscript I ruined?

Keito: I’ll just have to redraw it. Fortunately, only one page was a victim. I can come back from this.

No, this is fine. Because of your clumsiness, I can concentrate better.

Eichi: Oh? If that’s how it is, I’ll try to bother you on purpose then?

Keito: Don’t you dare…Just to be safe, don’t keep it to yourself anymore, okay?

Time: Some time later, in the early hours of the morning

Keito: …Alright, how far have you got?

Eichi: Hn? It’s not perfect, so is that okay?

Keito: Ah. Due to your natural skill, we’ve managed to progress much further than I anticipated.

All that’s left for me to do is typesetting. I can definitely meet the deadline now.

…Doing this digitally would be a huge time saver.

Screentones are being discontinued one after another, so perhaps soon I can transfer over to digital.

Eichi: Really? That’s a pity as someone who’s gotten so good at them.

I thoroughly enjoyed doing this for the first time… Hey, Keito. Give me one once they’ve been printed ♪

Keito: No. You’ll only make fun of it-

-is what I’d like to say. Without your help, I would have been screwed… Only this time I’ll let you off.

Eichi: Thanks. That makes me happy.

Yawnnn…

Pardon me for yawning.

Keito: Well it is rather late. You’re worn out, so off to your room with you. And—

You took care of me this time. You have my thanks, Eichi.

[jadelynlace]

True Warriors Rarely Go Quietly⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter I

read the prologue / preview here. 

synopsis: When you find the other person who was hurt by your ex-boyfriend’s cheating, you create an unlikely alliance. 

pairing: Modern Ivar x F!Reader

content warnings: Mentions of cheating and heartbreak, strong language / adult themes, sexual content, Ivar being a dick… 

author’s note: I know. Don’t say anything, I’m writing something new. Divider is by @firefly-graphics​

It was hopeless—sitting alone at his desk, whether is be the odd hours of the morning or the lonely hours in the midst of not being able to sleep. The only ones awake at two in the morning are the dreamers who are lonely, he had convinced himself. And Ivar, above all things, was lonely. Sometimes, people do the wrong things for the right reasons, and Ivar of all people should know that. Having a heart wasn’t in his guide, he locked that brackish idea away quickly. 

In retrospect, a plan for revenge seemed idea. It seemed logical, it seemed fair. The crackle of dead wood catches Ivar’s line of sight for a second time, and when his finger moves to push his glasses from slipping down his nose, the noise of the telephone catches his attention. 

“Your first meeting is here, sir,” A voice lulls on the line and Ivar’s singular reply ends the conversation. Through a muted sigh and a thick swallow, Ivar musters up the strength to stand, and is met with the old wooden door latching at the far end of the office. 

“Y/N?” Ivar finally says. You nod shallowly, quickly while watching his lips curve half of a smile onto his face. “You’ll do,” He then adds. “Come, sit,” Your stomach turns with an ache as you wonder what you’ve crawled into.

The office before you is sleek, lifeless and cold with no indications that Ivar doesn’t spend every waking moment enclosed in the walls. The furnishings draws as much attention as a white windowsill, but matches the price tag for Ivar’s suit. You neglect to find a single piece that hints towards any similarity of personality. 

In an effort to contain yourself, you look up quickly, eyes meeting the witty smirk plastered on Ivar’s lips. Scanning him quickly, you swallow—this isn’t the man you had imagined. He holds himself with class, standing at a slight angle while he leans weight on a cane: hand crafted with precision, clarity and an underlying scant of love. His entire persona stops at the top of each leg; there’s an untranslatable feeling you get when you look at him; not many people are so keen to placing the cane with the injury. Even less vocalize it. His suit jacket alone probably cost more than your rent. But those eyes, they’re distant and cold, aching to be warmed while hiding secrets behind blue irises.

“It didn’t take you long to find me, hm?” Ivar finally speaks as his takes his place back behind his desk. “Sit, please,” He adds with an extended arm.

“You’re not exactly a hard person to find, Ivar,” You answer back. “Freydis has a mouth that she likes to open,”

“Yes, despite her inability to give head,” Ivar sighs back and you know suddenly where all the personality in the room comes from. You can’t help but laugh at his words. You catch him smirking back at you, opening both hands and shrugging, like you caught a child sneaking candy before dinner. “What can I say, I’m honest,” Ivar adds, tucking those same hands behind his head as he leans back ever so slightly in his seat. 

“I am curious to hear what your plan is,” You find yourself saying. 

“You can take your coat off, I know it’s cold outside but there is a fire roaring in here,” He remarks.

“Forgive me, but Ivar, I know as much about you as I know about the meaning of life. You’re going to have to enlighten me, a bit,” You finally speak.

“Ah, well, I work in finance—clearly my father didn’t tell me he loved me enough when I was a child,” He starts, busying his hands as he rustles the papers on his desk. “You know, I happen to know a question that tests the true caliber of a person,”

“I’m listening,” You say. Ivar smiles, tapping his lips with the tip of his pen.

“Do you like pancakes?” Ivar asks.

“Is this how you’re so successful?” You challenge. “Bringing clients into a lifeless place like this only to liven it up with your demeanor?”

“Lifeless?” Ivar accuses. “Lifeless? How is it lifeless? There’s…furnishings. I went through great lengths to get them,”

“Oh I’m sure having them shipped to you already assembled was a hassle for a man of your proportion,” You scoff.

“Those outside the door aren’t lifeless!” Ivar remark with a grin. “At least, last I checked. Bloody slow at their work, mind you, but very much…alive,”

“Ready to cut the bullshit?” You ask.

“Sweetheart, I’m just getting started,”

“You said something about how Freydis wished she looked,” You recall. “What did you mean by that?” 

“People have so many little tells,” Ivar begins. “Things that you, for example, might find minuscule. Your feet have been pointed towards the door since you sat down—examining people is part of the craft. Small nuances that give away huge details,”

You only blink at the man before you.

“There were feelings of inadequacy between you and your past lover, yes?” Ivar asks and you straighten your spine. “Something drove him to seek more,”

“Oh, go to hell,” You finally spit. “I didn’t come here for a therapy session. I came here for revenge,”

“I work in finance,” Ivar hums, “It comes with the territory,” As your back turns to him, his eyes crawl down your figure, back up through your hair and Ivar tips his head to the side, as if he’s contemplating. Licking his lips, he speaks: “Do you want to make him feel as awful? Do you want him to wonder what he didn’t have?” Your hand is on the door knob, “Do you want revenge, or not?”

“Do not patronize me,” You spit coldly as your turn back to him. “Do not sit there and try to needle your way into a situation where your girlfriend did the same fucking thing. What is it that drove her away? Hm?” You ask as you turn and Ivar’s eyes finally leave yours. 

“Irrelevant,” Ivar remarks. “Ancient history,” And instead of continuing to needle away at the newly discovered weakened spot, you stand still. 

Ivar’s hands disappear from your line of sight, opening a drawer and you hear the tell tale sign of a medicine container pop. Watching carefully, he tosses back what is in his hand with a dry swallow and no indication of discomfort from the unpleasant taste. Vanity doesn’t follow this man around, you can tell he’s deeply troubled, he’s in pain, he’s his own bully and the lies he tells himself keep those blue eyes distant.

“I want revenge,” You finally admit. “I want him to know he’s not half the man he thinks that he is,” 

“Good girl,” Ivar chuckles darkly to himself. 

“They do have a thing in common,” You find yourself saying at you lean against the door. “They both have the inability to give head,” 

“He—?” Ivar stops suddenly and just makes a face. “Really?” You can only laugh as the sheer disbelief that’s laced through Ivar’s tone. “Even I can—did he not eat ice cream as a child?” 

“Oh my god,” You mutter. “What exactly is your plan?” 

“I suppose I can tell you now that you’re near the door, and a safe distance away from me,” Ivar says as he watches you. You’re caught under his gaze as he looks through his lashes at you and that smile paints his lips again. Finally his fingers lace together as he plants his hands on his desk. “How would you like to be my girlfriend?” 

Of all the plans this man could have had, that was one you were not prepared for.

“Because I look the way Freydis wishes she did?” You blurt out. “Come find me when you have a plan that doesn’t mock someone subconsciously. I wanted to stoop low Ivar, but that’s low. Even for someone who cheated.” And you leave with a slam of the door.

“You’ll come around eventually,” Ivar hums to himself.

*

Ivar believes everyone is allowed to have one secret; with lives so privy to the world, it’s hard to contain anything beneath your skin. Ivar knows what his is—and while Freydis’s fell under the category of infidelity, he considered that maybe he couldn’t fault her. Maybe is a grey area that makes even the most competent of men question their knowledge. In some instances, maybe can cost men their lives.

Counting the dots in the sky, Ivar’s eyes grow tired of relishing in the ancient constellations, in the stories of a earlier life. With the fire dwindling down, his fingers tap along his chin before they take a life of their own and gather his phone. After a few high pitched tones, there’s a connection and he speaks:

“What are you doing?”

“It’s 4 in the morning, I was sleeping,” You yawn.

“I don’t sleep much these days,” Ivar sighs, and truthfully, he could spill his darkest secrets to you right now. 

“Who’s mind are you playing with now, Ivar?” You hum, turning in your sheets. 

“Probably my own,” Ivar replies. 

“You just have to figure out what you need,” He suddenly hears you say. 

“I need breakfast,”

“Well, I know a little place that’s open 24 hours,” You answer. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Ivar smiles. 

“Are you asking me on a date, Ivar?” You ask. 

“It’s the middle of the night Y/N. What do you think?”

“I think, you asked me if I like pancakes,” You say. 

“I asked you that for a reason, love,” Ivar says softly. 

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[sketchyjessieblog]

My Experiences Making Stickers

Machines

In terms of making stickers, you don't inherently need any machine whatsoever. If you can find decent sticker paper to draw on, some kind of laminate or protective adhesive coat, and scissors, you can make stickers just fine. Hell, you don't even really need the laminate/coat, but people tend to use stickers in situations where they'll need that protection to stand up to rain, weather, or condensation.

However, importantly, producing stickers without a machine is slow as fuck. Hand drawing is much slower than printing, and hand cutting is much slower than using a machine like a Cricut. Ultimately, I'd recommend at least a printer, as it will probably be able to print on more material than you can draw on, and it's a fairly cheap way to speed up production. But going without a Cricut is a lot more reasonable, as the Cricut is quite expensive, and you'll likely not need to produce at a large enough scale where hand cutting is impractical initially.

I personally have both: a printer and a Cricut. I like them both, and the Cricut allows much more precise and uniform cutting than I can do myself. But I honestly might have gone without the Cricut if I had better realized it wasn't really necessary to create good die cut style stickers.

Paper

Sticker paper is fairly easy to find online, and I've seen some decent material in stores like Hobby Lobby and Wal-Mart. Generally, you'll get more for your money going with bulk options online, but a smaller order might be more in budget and more practical early on.

In terms of material, I'd personally recommend something along the lines of printable vinyl, or otherwise something with a coating already on it. I have some sticker paper that was effectively uncoated paper, and it doesn't stand up well to weather on its own. And laminate and coating options have been difficult to work with in my personal experience. The spray I tried ended up being scratchy and weird, and laminate sheets are extremely thick, to the point that the Cricut struggles to cut it, even on the highest setting I have (poster board).

Another note, home printers can be quite finicky when it comes to thick material. Try to pick fairly thin, but still durable, material when possible, as thicker materials can get snagged in the average home printer. I effectively couldn't print on some heavy cardstock I got because of this.

On a final note, unless you need very uniform, standard shapes, like circles, rectangles, etc., I don't recommend getting pre-cut label sheets. Die cuts tend to look much more interesting and work with much more designs, and it's fairly easy to make them even without a Cricut if you make the outline simple enough.

Designs

In terms of design, you can get away with a lot as long as you're working with a printable material. I'd recommend making the files fairly bright and saturated, as this tends to come out looking better. If you're working with an incredibly dark piece, make it slightly brighter than you would think it should be. In my experience, a lot of detail can get lost with darker works, as the print looks darker than what's on screen. I'd recommend going more saturated with very light, pastel works. I've had issues with the material coming out near white, with the color barely showing through. Ultimately, it may be best to simply test things out with your own machines, but these are my experiences.

With hand drawn stickers, something I haven't personally tried, you'll have to consider your own personal limitations and tools. Again, this is something you can probably experiment with, but be mindful of your body. You don't want to treat yourself like a printing machine and develop medical problems like carpal tunnel because of it. We already risk that enough as artists.

Selling

If you'd like to sell your stickers, I recommend ensuring they're fairly weatherproof, as the average person is going to want to stick them in places where that's at least somewhat important. Laptops, tumblers, their car, etc.

I won't get too much into places to sell items, because that could probably be its own post, but in terms of pricing, I'd base that on the effort, material, and size. For me, I tend to price tiny stickers (roughly 1-2 inches) at 50 cents and larger stickers (2-4 inches) at $1. I don't usually make much larger stickers, so I don't have personal pricing there. Beyond my anecdote, I'd recommend looking around at local events, sites like etsy, and possibly even calculating sheer cost to yourself plus the profit you want to make. Analyzing general “market trends” plus your own costs will probably be the best route to get a decent price tag.

Shipping is something I have limited experience with, but I'd recommend going with a fairly protective shipping container, such as a bubble mailer. Even with decent weatherproofing, stickers can be fragile. In addition, you may want to charge your customers for shipping. I've personally paid upwards of $5-6 to ship individual bubble mailers with artwork and stickers in it, but I was also paying for tracking. The prices without tracking were more around $1-2, and obviously this will vary massively depending on the size of your mailer and the weight of your items. You may also be able to talk to your local post office or research business shipping. I don't know much about how to keep shipping costs low, but I've seen options for savings on things such as bulk shipping.

Products

Cricut Explore Air 2 - Pretty useful, but I had some issues with calibration initially. Also glossy materials have some issues with the scanner: I've used scotch tape over the lines the scanner looks for to help that. You can also use some cloth to gently clean the scanner if it's having issues. You definitely need the software that works with it, the Cricut Design Space, and use the Print Then Cut feature for printed sticker designs. I personally print from the Design Space as PDF, then print out the PDF, because the Design Space doesn't have proper paper type settings from what I can see.

Cricut Machine Mat - I found some decent off brand ones at Hobby Lobby. The machine comes with one, but I damaged my first mat and had to buy more. Good to have at least one extra on hand just in case.

Cricut Weeder - This makes removing stickers from the mat very simple. You can get a lot of the big parts off by hand, but the weeder is good for getting little details off without damaging the sticker.

EPSON EcoTank ET-2803 - Pretty decent printer. I haven't had to change ink since I got it a couple months ago, and I use it pretty regularly. It can be finicky with paper and get jammed easily, but otherwise it's fairly reliable to me.

Cricut Printable Vinyl - I just started using this properly, but I ran tap water over it, and the damage was pretty minimal from what I could tell. It was still usable after the fact, and the art was undisturbed. Prints fine, though it likes to fold on the edges a bit and get ink on the very tips, which doesn't impact much in my process.

Pen+Gear Self Adhesive Laminate Sheets - Too thick for the Cricut, but useful for other applications. Would work amazing for hand cut stickers. I personally use this for bookmarks atm, and the stickers I got using this are incredibly well protected.

Scissors - Any brand works. Good to have even with a Cricut. Useful for less precise cutting.

[lauvra]

Woah, I just experienced such a wholesome moment I'm going to ruin by sharing. While perusing reddit and feigning comedic genius, I saw and paused: "If you could instantly master one skill, what would it be?" and knew: painting. That's it—so defined in my mind, it made me wonder "what about writing?" It's not that writing wasn't within the same arm's length of reach within my mind, either. I sensed it there, closer actually, wom-womming warmth ever-present and still deliberately chose painting. This conjured the more condensed question: Would I rub the lamp to instantly become a masterful writer? if offered the chance? No way. I fundamentally enjoy my fundamental literary nescience (yup, never have heard of or used that word before; don't think it works—was trying too hard, wanted to go with "ignorance" but felt like the connotation was itself. Nescience sounds more "yeah bro I'm ignorant AND I have a trust fund!") noviceness (I can do whatever I want) as it's emblematic (come off it) of having so much more (okay) to look forward to. Look at all these little symbols, having secret affairs with one another and my working to document their deeds and draw them into some respectable union! Perverted! Next, make them fuck! The journey's the whole thing! It would no longer feel fulfilling to write if I woke up tomorrow having "mastered" the craft; a ridiculous idea, anyway. What's beautiful is that there are visual artists who feel precisely the same way about their path, too! In that, they want to walk it. Now, to be fair that singular question answered did not serve to prune every limb of curiosity duplicating, expanding and puncturing this subject, except of course it did and salted the earth too, though I really have been grilling myself. The idea of "mastering painting" looked along the lines of; understanding values, the tools, method, copy/pasting from eye to paper, taking commissions confident in my ability to extend what's asked of me—but mostly: having the ability to think of a scorpion riding a magical carpet but the carpet's Trump's toupee but Trump’s not Trump and the toupee looks like something symbolic of something thought-provoking and in standing back far enough it's actually the trolley experiment which you sense but don’t know how as if by some kind of visual trickery masterfully created by an artist with innate knowledge of her craft and its industry secrets and then being able to paste that direct image (yeah you think it’s there already; but not so fast) with a Great sense of composition upon a canvas that she’s stretched and primed herself then hung upon a porcelain-white wall of a gallery so large it smells like nothing in here and everybody's footsteps echo while you're gazing at the work attempting to understand what it all means—but like, really—and worrying whether you're pursing your lips in that thoughtful way or if you're beginning to lean obnoxious and anyway what’s this tense and how's your posture and would this make for a great photograph? So anyway it makes me wonder, because I sure could use all those industry secrets of style and formatting and conjuring image badly, in the scratch and dot realm of the academic and what-not, so why not opt (theoretically speaking) to churn out technically brilliant ode poems that make people purse their lips and change; if one instantly could? No thanks, sounds real shit actually! Already asked, already answered: The journey's the whole thing!

[batesmachineonline]

How a CNC Machine Shop Services Your Needs

How a CNC Machine Shop Services Your Needs

Top-end CNC machine shops pride themselves on being one-stop-shops for their customers’ machining needs. This requires a lot of strong vendor relationships: the best foundries can help with casting design, while tooling vendors provide the best-in-class tools to cut a part. Once these designs are converted into CNC code, the CNC machines start manufacturing the parts. They are then inspected for quality.

1. Reliability

A reliable CNC machine shop such as Bates Machine & Mfg. in Farmersville, Texas provides high-quality products and ensures the accuracy of its work. It also minimizes human intervention in the manufacturing process, which helps reduce errors and increases production speed. A CNC machine shop can fabricate parts for a variety of industries. For example, a company can make components for the aerospace industry

roller bearing, vernier callipers and drawings from materials like stainless steel and aluminum. It can also create parts for the automotive industry, such as engine components and cylinders. A CNC machine shop can also provide surface finishing tools to give a part its desired aesthetics or properties. These services can include buffing, polishing, sandblasting, and anodizing. However, a good CNC machine shop should be honest about its capabilities and not claim to be able to do more than it can.

2. Flexibility

Whether you require a small run of prototypes or large and ongoing orders, you need a machine shop that can meet your needs. Ensure that they offer flexible ordering and shipping options and communicate clearly with you throughout the process. In a CNC machine shop, skilled machinists use CAD (computer-aided design) software to design the parts that need to be manufactured. This data is then converted into CNC code, which the machine follows to manufacture the parts. Once the CNC machine has completed manufacturing the parts, a quality inspector checks them to make sure they meet the specifications in the CAD file. However, not all machining shops are transparent about their capabilities. Look for a shop that acknowledges its limitations rather than one that tries to go beyond them.

3. Cost-effectiveness

When you need quality CNC parts, it can be costly for your company to purchase and maintain their own equipment. This is where a machine shop can help. They temporarily provide their expensive machinery and skilled personnel to companies at a fraction of the cost. Setup costs include the time needed to secure and install tooling, establish machine/part zeros and offsets, and establish machining parameters. This time is factored into a machining quote and will fluctuate based on order quantity. Some shops offer additional services, such as painting, that will add to the machining cost. Make sure to discuss these options with your machine shop during the quoting process. You should also inquire about any material finish requirements that may impact the machining price.

4. Timely Delivery

If you’re working with a tight deadline, look for a machine shop that can meet your needs quickly and effectively. Also, consider their customer service and communication skills. They should be responsive to inquiries and proactively update you about your order’s status. Aircraft manufacturers rely on CNC machines to make parts such as engine components, fuel lines, and cylinders. These parts are made from aluminum, stainless steel, and other industrial-grade materials certified for aircraft use. Machine shops also offer surface finishing tools. These are used to improve a workpiece’s strength, appearance, and other properties. Examples include buffing, polishing, sandblasting, and anodizing. In the healthcare industry, precision machining helps manufacture medical devices like hip stems, mod cavities, reamers, and biopsy tubes. They also help produce prosthetic limbs that improve patient quality of life.

5. Experience

Whether you want to fabricate aerospace equipment, build military vehicles or weapons, or make surgical devices, it’s important to find a reputable CNC machine shop that offers quality and experience. Look for an ISO-certified company, a good track record, and customer reviews. Also, consider the shop’s capabilities and software. In addition to CNC machines, some shops have other machines such as a band saw that cuts raw materials into smaller pieces before the machinists cut them further. They may also have surface finishing tools like buffing, sandblasting, and anodizing. A good machine shop will respect your privacy and keep your designs confidential. Look for one that will sign a non-disclosure agreement (NDA). You should reject any shop that refuses to do so. You should also choose a shop that is honest about its limitations. Read the full article

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

“I never lined things up as a kid. I always played with my toys normally.”

From the ages of three to six, you used to rip tons of toilet and tissue paper into strips so you could make “tadpoles” purely for the sake of making tadpoles. These were made in two ways, depending on whether you wanted the tadpole to be male or female.

Males had heads which were twisted like bow ties; and females had heads which were twisted like bow ties, then rolled into a ball. These two categories were not mixed; rather, the males went in the male pile and the females went into the female pile.

Each tadpole, after its creation, was given a name; and you remembered every single name of every tadpole you created just by looking at them, because you could see how they all differed from each other in small ways.

After you had made a sufficient amount of tadpoles in the proper way, you occasionally made them speak to each other, constructing complex social hierarchies as you went along. You did not verbalize this dialogue; you whispered it under your breath or kept it confined to your head.

Later on, you repeated similar processes with both clay and scraps of yarn. When these were played with, the stories often revolves around someone bullying another for being different, despite the fact that you had never experienced any real bullying for this reason.

From the ages of seven to eleven, you also played outside by plucking maple saplings out of the ground, removing the roots from the stem, then snipping one of its largest leaves off to make an alien bird creature (since the largest teardrop-shaped leaf acted as a head and the two skinny leaves below it acted as wings). You created at least twenty of them per play session, named these like you did the tadpoles, and gave them ranks and personalities; often finding the creative process more interesting than actually making them act things out.

You also made houses out of sticks because you thought fairies existed, and you wanted them to have a place to stay. You would spend hours outside constructing a main house and a first aid tent. Then you got the bright idea to put the alien bird creatures (or dead leaf creatures or dried up seed pod creatures) in the houses, sorting them into “sick” and “not sick.”

From the ages of ten to thirteen, you played with Lalaloopsies and had a doll house for them. Before you were able to play with anything, you had to set the doll house up very precisely with everything in the correct spots. It irritated you that the doll house did not seem to be able to accommodate every piece of furniture, so you painstakingly found a way to MAKE everything fit in areas that made sense; you continued to set it up the exact same way every time and if something fell over, it had to be fixed before you continued playing with it again.

Even after setting everything up, you were more interested in placing the dolls in rooms and seeing how they reacted to being placed in or on the furniture than you were about actually playing with them. You liked how they looked and felt more than you liked pretending with them, which led to a moral dilemma about whether you actually “used” the toys or not. You wanted to keep playing with them but the setup process was far too irritating, so you abandoned them, and all your other toys indefinitely because you weren’t using them “correctly,” and because they could not be manipulated in the way you wanted to manipulate them. At this point, you abandoned playing, not because you thought it embarrassing or childish, but because you came to a logical conclusion that playing was a waste of time, and that there were better, more productive things to do than make imaginary things play-act…

…so of course, you thought the most productive use of your time was to rapid-fire draw hundreds of characters, and write up extremely detailed reports on them (using the same format every time) without having any working plot to put them in. Because that is totally different from what you were doing before 👍

[dodounchained]

I have a genuine question: wouldn't it be better to practice creating your own art, rather than using these image generators? to each their own, but considering how many people struggle creating their own art because of depression following this "ai" boom, I know I personally would not want to contribute to something that makes other people feel bad about creating things by hand.

Hey, thanks for the questions and the chance to dive into these overdue thoughts from a personal angle, because you phrased them so well :)

The straightforward reason I don't practice drawing and create things with my own hands is that I simply don't have enough time to learn a new skill while working a 9-to-5 job while taking care of the family. Fandom is my escape, and there's only so much I can dedicate to it. Learning to paint demands significant effort, time, and talent, and unfortunately, I don't possess those gifts at the moment.

Let me be clear: "AI-generated imagery" can't replace traditionally painted arts, whether on canvas or through digital tools like Wacom or Procreate. They're not even in the same ballpark. Fun fact, I wanted to be a painter as a kid because my mom was one, but she shunned it because it didn't work out well for her. In the game industry I'm in now, Art directors and artists are still highly sought after and are crucial to any successful project. At the moment, AI generation can't precisely interpret what we envision or tell a client that, no, black is too dark for a 70 pt bold logo in a children's game with predominantly pastel colors. It can't even add weight to a line or create a simple walking animation. Returning to the point, we live in a time where both Photoshop skills and traditional oil painting are appreciated, where calligraphy and typewriting are both practiced, and where sculpture and 3D printer skills are both taught in schools. I hope for a future where AI imagery and the drawing community are not at odds but appreciated in their own ways.

For aspiring artists struggling, I can't comment directly as I'm navigating the same path. But I know the struggle is real, justified, and will pay off in the end. If you ask me to feel bad for them, it's like asking a working person if they feel guilty towards Uber drivers. The analogy falls apart because AI and creative artists aren't competing for the same limited real-life resources right now. If someone felt guilty for being able to do something others can't, they'd be living with guilt every moment.

If I sound a bit defensive, I hope for your understanding. I have imposter syndromes (deserved or not), being a woman in tech and an AI image generator (let's not stretch for the word AI artist). This blog goes on hiatus when I'm so depressed that I can't even open the page. I'm enraptured in the R&D process, but there's no one I can talk to about it. It's a different struggle, but I have terabytes of failed models, wasted hours, and spreadsheets documenting what might have gone wrong before the model reaches its best likeness. What's worse, there's little community for us. AI imagery gets a bad rep because there are mountains of perverts doing unspeakable things I witness every day on forums and servers while looking for the newest style or training method. I'm scared to tell people this is what I (can) do. Perhaps in the '90s, people denied going on the internet because it automatically equated them with being a porn-watcher. That'd be funny.

If there's anything to feel bad about, it's the copyright issue in the AI community. I try my best to use models trained over "ethically" obtained images, but one can never be sure. None of my work has ever been used commercially either.

This response has probably gone on a tangent for too long, and I'd like to appreciate your attention if you've reached this far. Fandom is my escapism, and I have so many headcanons that would otherwise be fleeting posts that vanish in a second. Now, I'm gifted with this new tool to indulge in them, and I feel truly lucky.

[ultra-maha-us]

Why You Should Write Blog Articles on a Typical Base

If you are a web log manager, you must post articles and different content on your website regularly. How frequently you must post depends on your niche and your following. You'll need to keep track of your readers, wherever they're navigating to on your website and how frequently they return. You do this by getting subscribers. Record the percentage of readers and un-subscribers and this is an sign of how frequently to post to your blog.

When you notice there are certainly a lot of people who unsubscribe from your own website on a daily basis, this really is usually an sign you are placing also much. Keep an eye with this for a time and modify the frequency at that you post to your blog. Perhaps not placing frequently enough is usually the issue website owners have though.

Still another problem bloggers come across is producing content that's fascinating and "draws a audience in" to need to learn more. It is sometimes hard to think of Verbrauchertip methods to do this and bloggers continue to just post information regarding their niche, items, or services.

You are expected to do this, but you can find different practices to seize a reader's attention. For example, you would like the website to be personable and write in this way it is like you are talking to the reader. You can write a tale of anything that occurs for your requirements each day, or perhaps a current event that's occurring in the world.

These experiences are good to enhance your website, but do remember you would like the content to be evergreen. If you are unsure what meaning, you develop content without mentioning specific dates. Additionally you write it as if it really happened. This can produce the content seem very current. All you should do at this time is develop a number of experiences of functions in your lifetime and keep these things scheduled to post on your blog. You can also routine them to be introduced on your social media accounts. The best benefits come from having your content scheduled per week or even more ahead of time. It is advised to create about eight to five articles beforehand. Then when you are prepared and have content prepared and edited, routine the times they must be posted. WordPress includes a function where you are able to do this.

Now as your content gets printed, it will post at the selected date and time you scheduled it to. As soon as your viewers view it, they will see content being often submitted and know you are constantly upgrading your blog. But just placing to 1 website may limit your audience. There are many others who use different website computer software such as for instance Blogger. It is a good idea - if you just have WordPress - to really have a Blogger account.

Having multiple website may look like a task; but, there are certainly a variety of instruments out there to assist you keep equally filled with content. You will find some instruments that may be collection as much as post to each website simultaneously. You might also need extensions in WordPress that allows you to do this as well. It lessens the full time it takes to post to your entire accounts separately.

Since you've that established and set up, you will find you need to let persons know you are placing to your website and also let many people realize that you've a web log in the very first place. Using instruments and extensions accessible on line and on WordPress may do this. There are instruments once you make a article, it will instantly tweet the announcement or update your status on Facebook.

Nothing is precisely intelligent, but you can find instruments out there, which enable you to routine your articles ahead of time. So as you intend your organization and that which you are likely to write, you can include these articles to something and routine the date and time you would like visitors to see it. On a side notice you intend to routine the changing times to reflect the time at which a lot of people might find your posts.

[husbandohunter]

Your Stardew Impact has given me a serious brainrot and I couldn’t sleep on it so here

Imagine the boys getting Isekai to Stardew and meeting their (soon-to-be) s/o a.k.a the farmer who found them in the mines and dragged them out.

It’s basically the same as the original but the reader lives in Stardew universe from the beginning.

The Outlanders who trespassed the Stars [Stardew Valley + Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: You were a simple farmer who lived a simple life before crossing paths with these outlanders. A tale of greetings and farewells tells a story that loving someone was like looking at the stars in the sky; a sense of warmth amidst darkness, where the dots connect no matter what distance it was. But just like stars, they were meant to be unobtainable.

(Basically what happens if the boys get Isekai'd)

Genre: fluff, angst (faceapalm didn't mean to)

Characters: Childe, Xiao, Zhongli

(A/n): Hi anon, haha I didn't think the Stardew Impact series would be this enjoyable. Allow me to serve your brainrot. But just for future references there is a character limit! Also it long, a pro tip to use ctrl+F and type in the name :>

======================

~Childe's Story~

The day you met Childe was perhaps during the most fortunate yet unfortunate hour of your life.

Winter comes by, your fields were left dry, what else was there to do other than mining? You were aiming to build a new Barnhouse before summer comes, fishing only made average income thus you decided to take your pickaxe and hope to run into some diamonds, gold or even better: prismatic shards. However, expensive items could only be found in the deepest parts of the mountains, where dangerous monsters lurk by.

When peeking over the abandoned minecart you so carefully shielded yourself with, you began contemplating whether you've just dug yourself a grave instead. The whole area became infested, you weren't in the best condition and on top of all that, you were out of food.

You decided to make a run for it, with the treasures and goodies at hand, you couldn't give up. However, things only got worse when purple mist began taking over your vision, signaling a lava bat wave drawing nigh. It was thanks to your greed that you ended in such a predicament but it was also your greed that brought you to him.

"W-Woah!!"

You tripped with your toe pointing downwards into a pile of wooden crates. The bats swarmed in shortly after, daunting around the area above but you couldn't afford to look. Your face was down to the ground and you could only rely on your ears regarding their whereabouts. As if Yoba heard your prayers, the lava bats could not seem to find you, confusing them to think you've escaped. And so, they flew away.

"I'm never doing that again," The sudden impact was excruciating, you were sure that your lip bled due to biting too hard. At least the floor felt somewhat soft, cotton-like and warm enough to be comforting. Yet, for some reason it was also a little…bony?

"…Mn…."

Your body jerks up like a springboard when you felt something shifting. A man, no older than his twenties, no older than you, lays sprawled out under your form. He was beginning to stir and you panicked when a pair of blue cerulean eyes pointed into your seemingly shocked ones within the close parameter.

Too close.

The man gives a cheerfully wry chuckle, you could practically feel his breath almost, "Well this is quite unexpected, didn't think I'd end up in this position," he jests, soon his expression began to tighten into a grimace, "Mind getting off me though? With all due respect miss, you're a little-…heavy."

You scrambled to the side while still kneeling, "What the hell, who are you?!"

"Hm," The man didn't answer, instead he pushed himself upright and turned his attention to examine the surroundings, "Where are we?" He paused when he noticed how the ceiling was made of rocks, "Wait, is this a cave?"

"Ninety two floors deep and surrounded by monsters," you sighed in frustration while rubbing your head with your palm, "Seriously, whoever you are you shouldn't be here, especially if you're not even carrying the necessary supplies."

"Hey, I just got here. I'm just as confused as you," he puts his hands up in a defensive gesture, "But how strange," he mutters to himself, lowering his arms ever so slightly before pinching his chin in deep thought, "I swear it was the right portal…or maybe it was the other one? Hmmm, could it be the effect of the hidden seal?"

I have so many questions. You sweatdropped nervously. Here you were, hours spent to get to the deepest parts of the earth and looking like a cavewoman while his clothes were practically untouched, nor did they seem to be a recognizable fashion. You've seen many odd events within Stardew Valley but not to this extent, "Alright you know what, let's forget about it for now. We need to get out of here before those lava bats come back for us again. Otherwise we're toast," you gestured to the lava pool, "Literally."

He gave another one of his gleeful smiles, you wondered if he was afraid at all, "Sounds like a solid plan to me. Judging by the equipment you're wearing, you seem to have been here for a while. You know your way around?"

Figures that he doesn't know, you thought, "I'll lead."

"Glad we're on the same page. Though, we've only just met and yet you're still willing to help a stranger like me," he mentions in an off-handed manner, perhaps he wasn't used to generosity ever since being recruited as a harbinger, "But not that I'm complaining. You have my thanks, comrade."

"(Y/n)," you tell him, "That's my name. I'm a farmer that resides in this town."

"I see. A town it is then," he inquires, "Call me Childe, as where I'm from, not sure how to answer that anymore."

"What do you-"

But before you were able to question him further, a hoard of lava crabs were spotted crawling it's way towards where Childe sat. He shot you a confused look and turned to the direction, amusement sparks in his eyes,

"Lava crabs? You've got to be kidding me," your arms have already grown tired long ago, at this rate, you figured it may be best to pay a visit to Harvey's doctor office and check up for any muscle strains that have occured during the process. You most likely have considered how heavy your items felt now. Partaking in another battle would only make it worse.

"Ah an opponent, to think this place wouldn't have a set of new monsters to fight. I was growing tired of beating up hilichurls all the time."

His casual reaction caused you to scrunch up your nose in disbelief, "We're being ganged up on and your first response was that???"

Childe paid no mind, instead he propelled himself back to his feet using his trained reflexes and swaggered towards the crowd, "Relax girlie," Stopping just after a few steps, he turns his head ajar over his shoulder with a floppy smirk spreading his lips, "I've got this."

You held in your breath, wondering if you could trust this man. For now all you could do was sit back and hopefully regain some of your strength while observing by the stacks of crates that were abandoned years ago. The lava crabs formed a straight line in front of him, they were smart creatures, cornering their prey in a very well strategized form so that trespassing was out of the question. Childe wasn't intimidated in the slightest, he merely looked down at them with hooded eyes, flexing his fingers for preparation.

"Lava crab…in other words you're of the pyro element," the harbinger holds out his hand in front of him, trying to cultivate the shape of his bow, "A shame. This fight would end much shorter than I anticipated."

However, when he expected his element to manifest, nothing came out. Childe was left dumbfounded.

"Don't just stand there," you screeched, "Do something!!!"

"Wait," he halts you and tries to summon his bow again. Once, twice, as the crabs grew closer still there was nothing, "My powers…they're gone?!"

"Take this," left without a choice, you pushed yourself towards him and shoved Neptune's glaive into his grasp. He examines it with curiosity, but you knew this was also your own well-being you were entrusting him, "It's really easy to use, just-"

When a crab leapt forward, you ran back to create some manageable space for Childe to move in. He delivers a powerful slice using one arm, hitting the crab's weak spot while tossing it toward the side until a dent was formed in the wall. Your mouth parts, fast, he was fast, you didn't even have the time to blink. It was as if he knew the glaive more than you did. Though, the assumption wasn't that far from the truth. Childe was well adept with swordsmanship as he was an expert with many other melee weapons. Which is precisely the reason why he chose the bow as his main, a ranged device, the challenge to keep him on his toes. Just like he was now.

"He wasn't lying when he said he could fight," you watched in mesmerization, each single blow he delivered deemed equivalent to three hits on your part. Childe was both powerful and swift. He was formidable. The way he effortlessly deflected his opponents despite not having an enchantment ring made you forget how much of an idiot he was earlier before. Soon, the lava crabs began to lessen, leaving what remained of their dusted corpse while some retreated back into the depths of the cave.

"Not bad, it was kind of fun!" Childe laughs exasperatedly, glancing at his blue reflection upon the marred blade, "It's been a while since I last used a sword, and still haven't gone rusty either," he hands you the hilt, "Thanks for letting me use it by the way. You seriously got yourself a sick weapon."

"Keep using it for now, I think I'm a little too worn out to handle it," you say regretfully and pointed your nose towards the ceiling, "The mist hasn't disappeared so there's probably gonna be more monsters we'll encounter soon."

Childe looks up as well, "Huh I was wondering what that meant."

"By the way I've never seen anyone fight like that. Exactly what kind of place are you from?" You finally ask, "You somehow ended up in a cave, without anything to defend yourself with and it's not like you know your way out either. Are you...from another world?"

"Huh didn't think you'd draw that conclusion so quick," he comments jokingly, "Guess there's no reason to hide it anymore. Indeed I am from another world, at least, that's what I can tell so far. I've never encountered these types of monsters either."

You couldn't help but be taken aback by his honesty, "That was strangely easier than I thought...."

After escaping the cave, you introduced Childe to the wizard who lived in Cindersap forest, M. Rasmodius. He was extremely intrigued by the concept of an outlander and seemed happy to be of assistance. Since helping others was the culture of Pelican Town, you commissioned Robin to build a small cabin for him to live in temporarily. In return, Childe must accompany you back to the caves and make up for your losses. It was a mutual benefit since he had the opportunity to fight as well.

Childe befriended the townsfolk rather easily. On friday nights where everyone goes to the Saloon to enjoy their time, he would be found in the other room playing pool with the gang (Sam, Abigail and Sebastian)-- you as well when he managed to drag you along with him.

Crashes at your place when you were busy with the farm. You can bet that he would pop up suddenly midday through your window, “Can you use the door like a normal person???” But despite how much you get irritated by this habit, all bygones are bygones the moment he starts a conversation.

He sticks around as you carry your hay batches, sharing his stories. How the organization he worked in was a powerful militaristic force that had authority over many countries. But you didn't see him as a brute since he only joined for the sake of his parents, for the sake of his siblings and their dreams.

You thought of your grandfather who also once told you to pursue your dreams: live a peaceful life away from urban society. However, as long as the harbinger was with you, there wasn't much option for 'peace'.

"Tell me again why you dragged me out here? You know thatI still have a lot of work to finish back in the farm," you trekked your feet through the thick icy sheets with one hand clutching the zipper near your collarbone. It was incredibly windy in Cindersap forest and Childe happened to have convinced you to leave the comfort of your home for 'a surprise favour'. He purposely made a vague statement to draw in your curiosity but if you had refused-- well, that would have led to constant nagging on his part.

"You'll see," is what he said, it was what he told you through this whole ordeal. He lifted his chin to feel the frosty air against his face, "There's this one activity I wanted to try out. Back in Snezhnaya, I used to bring my brother to go skating out on the lakes. It's deadly freezing there so the ice is pretty thick to work on. Haven't done any of that since I joined the Fatui."

You shot him a deadpan glare, "That's why you brought me out here? Why didn't you just go by yourself?"

"Now that's cold (Y/n),” you rolled your eyes at the pun, “Can't you loosen up instead of throwing yourself in a pile of work all day?"

"It's not that I don't want to...I'm just very busy with the farm since it's the last day of the month. At least I want to do as much as I can before Spring comes."

"Haha you're right but you only live once y'know?" Childe noted happily despite your protest, "And like I said before, seize the opportunity when you see it. You never know when it will be your last."

You cocked your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Now let's get started shall we?" As you both reach the edge of the frozen lake, Childe takes a step forward ahead of you, "Have you ever gone ice skating before?"

"Yeah but..." You glanced at the glassy surface with skepticism, suddenly struck by hesitance. The thought of drowning made you retreat your steps right away, "I don't know Childe, it doesn't seem that safe."

"That's true if you're not careful enough," he pointed out, "Luckily you have me to help you with that."

"How does that work?"

He placed one foot onto the hardened lake and parts his mouth into a grin, "Watch."

In contrast to your cautious personality, Childe was considered to be more of a wildcard if anything. He loved adventure, just like you except his side often included bloodshed and the thrill that danger carries. You weren't sure if it was worth putting up with his antics or entertaining his idea of skating on thin ice, but you complied regardless. He had a way of delivering his words through that cheery voice you couldn't deny.

Prior to meeting him, life was boring. The corporate world was boring. You moved into your grandfather's farm in order to search for some form of fulfillment that Zuzu city couldn't give and you thought you did now that you had your very own farm, but slowly you began to pile more responsibilities than you could even count.

Everything you did, you did alone.

If it weren't for Childe, you wouldn't have learned the art of surfing on ocean waters. You never would have known the taste of mixing three different ice-cream flavours together despite what strange names they all had. Or what it felt like to mingle with the townspeople rather than mingling for the sake of business. Suddenly, everything became...fun.

Childe wanted to go far and wide. He was always running, so far ahead, somewhere beyond the stars as he could conquer the world to the point you might no longer reach him.

No longer reach him, huh. Curling your fingers into your palm, you renewed your courage and took a step onto the ice.

At the sound of boots tapping behind him, Childe spins around to see you wobble in your stance, nearly tipping over. He slid across to where you were and grasped your arm before you fell.

"Gotcha."

"Thanks," You sighed in relief, "Jeez, this is harder than I thought."

"Guess this is your first time then," he commented with a bit of jest, "Don't stress yourself over it too much, you'll be okay. I got you."

He carefully led you to the center, staying close in case you were to fall sideways again. You awkwardly tried to keep your legs straight, balancing on your own yet the fact that there was still water underneath struck fear into your nerve. It caused you to tremble and eventually skittered backwards.

"Haha ice skating isn't your forte isn't it?"

"I'm just getting started!"

He takes your hand in his before you could even protest, it was one of his many aspects that you found endearing-- the fact his impulse stems from genuine intentions, feelings, not giving them a second thought. The two of you glide using the soles of your shoes, he speeds up ever so slightly and the adrenaline begins to increase until there comes a rush of excitement, freedom. The stress you once had already forgotten once taking flight upon the ice.

"Look Childe! I'm actually doing it!" You couldn't help mentioning with a bit of youthful playfulness in your voice, "It's so smooth and fast! Almost like I'm flying!"

He smiles quietly from a distance, “See? I told you that you'll be fine.”

It was clear to many that the two of you were much closer than what meets the eye.

Childe began to notice the change in your aura. You were happier and much more soulful. Before you were always on the edge, cautious in contrast to his sanguine approach, he couldn't help but be caught off guard whenever you teased him. Or the sudden honesty that causes him to be flustered. By your side, he was no longer a Fatui Harbinger rather more of a puppy, adorable almost.

But when he saw that the reason you changed was because of him, it brought fear into his bones. Why? How did things get to this point? You were lost in a wonderland, ignorant to the blossom that had sprung inside of your chest.

Maybe it was better to be ignorant. Just live in the moment while it can still last.

"You're leaving?"

Standing at the gateway between the mountain cliffside and the starry sky, you call out to the man you've known in a way that carries more than what words could say. Because he left a mark in your years that could never be erased and here he was, trying to erase his existence completely.

Childe lets out a bitter chuckle, he didn't dare to face you, "I didn't expect you to catch up so quickly. You're quick-witted, comrade."

"It's (Y/n)," you corrected, trying to steady your voice so that he couldn't tell the expression you were making, "Why didn't you say anything? What makes you think that I'll just stay silent and let you go on your own way? This isn't a joke Childe! Don't act as if none of it matters to you because it sure as hell did to me."

His lips that held his usual smirk flattens into a straight line, "Even if I did, would it make a difference?"

The world stills. You knew the answer, he knew the answer, you just refused to admit it. One by one, the stars begin to collect themselves until a bridge was formed in front of him, on another day he would be enjoying the scenery alongside you. But today they would be for you alone to witness. The man who you spent your time with had slowly, regretfully, inevitably became a stranger. He was right. It wouldn't make a difference. You were already aware since the day you met him that he belonged to another world and you willingly offered to help him find a way home.

"You know, you could come with me."

Your eyes jolt open. His voice was so free of care. As if he was commenting on something so minor on a casual Sunday afternoon while accompanying you to the beach. But when you came face to face with the harbinger, his expression lackluster, you knew that he meant every word.

"Just you and me, we can travel across the world to our heart's content. I always thought you were an adventurer just like me and you know what, the farm life just doesn't suit you," Childe slowly extends his hand as an offer, for you it was a temptation, "So what do you think? Care to join me?

Your lip quivers. What he said sounded like a sweet dream that you so desperately wanted to take a bite out of. But even so, you thought about the townsfolk, your farm, your grandfather. Their images flashed in as if holding you back, chaining you to the ground, "I can't."

The answer pained you more than it did to him.

"Figures, this is your home after all," he huffs out, " Now do you understand? I can't leave my home either. If I did, heh, I think my siblings would despise me until the very end and I just don't want that. So no hard feelings, okay?"

You didn't reply.

"Don't worry. I won't pressure you if you don't want to," Childe turns back to the bridge, it was almost time, "Do what you have to do (Y/n), hate me if it makes you feel any better. You can even forget about me," he paused, renewing his resolve, "But I know I won't."

"Childe-"

You ran to grab his scarf only to have it ghost through your hands. He was relieved that he couldn't hear your voice, as he returned to Teyvat, Childe wonders what kind of expression did you have before he left? He'll never know.

---

~Xiao's Story~

The day you met Xiao...well, you weren't in the best of the best positions.

This was probably your sixth attempt trying to make it through all levels of the cave and reach the last floor. The quest had been sitting in your drawer for months.

Of course you didn't expect things to be easy, the fortune teller channel you watched every morning had yet to inform you with any good fortune and you would often bump into obstacles that would halt your progress.

But to be fair, sometimes the colourful ore would attract your attention and before you knew it, it was time to go.

So close yet so far. You dragged your feet tiredly against the ground. What time was it? Who knows. Judging by your state, you assumed it had already struck past 12 a.m.

However, today luck seems to have taken pity on you, just...slightly.

You puffed air into your cupped hands for the nth time, huddling deeper into the touch of your coat while trudging into the cave's cold climate. A little longer, any time soon, you kept telling yourself over and over but as if time was frozen, the wait felt like an eternity. Ah how much you wish to be in the comfort of your soft, fluffy bed right now. Though, merely visualizing the image only reminded how achingly freezing it was so you decided it was best to spare yourself from the details.

"I can't do this anymore..." leaning your head against the ice covered cavern, you whimpered, "I should have stayed home."

As you were about to shut your eyelids, something flashed by your peripheral vision. You darted towards the direction it came from, the light was a bright green hue against blue, could it be, "Warmth!"

It seems you jumped to conclusions too quickly. With impatience, you swung around the corner, expecting to find a heat source, only to meet something much more horrifying.

"KYAH!"

They stared straight into your eyes, those demonic eyes tainted by black and fangs that stuck out of the mouth like tusks on an elephant.

However, when the light evaporated you were able to have a better sense of sight, slowly revealing the monster's true form and the body of a human boy. He fell onto his back with a thud and you used this chance to calm yourself from the frightful encounter.

"He's...unconscious?"

You meekly crawled to where he lay and examined closely. Aside from the mask, there were various distinct features that stood out in his attire, his tattoo being one of them, imprinted in what looked like an eagle. You then realized how unsuitable his clothes were in this current situation. At least there were no injuries so far. But was that a good thing? This man practically came out of thin air as if some sorcery had been committed. Witches never left a good impression ever since they cursed your chicken coop. You were hesitant whether to help a stranger who could potentially be one of them or a creation they cultivated. What other explanation could there be?

"I can't leave him here, it's too cold."

Your gaze suddenly falls upon his covered face. The design, although intimidating at first, upon closer look was very alluring in it’s own way. You haven't stumbled upon anything like what the merchants had to offer in Pelican Town and the mask almost looked too foreign. Was he from the east? Curiosity eventually takes over and you gingerly reach for the mask, sliding it off his face.

"Eh...?" You gasp, taken aback by his striking appearance. A part of it made you feel this was no ordinary boy but that didn't mean he should be abandoned in this environment. It would be immoral to let him die in a place like this.

Before you could even make a noise, his eyes bursted awake, grabbing your wrist in a harsh grip. He used his other hand to push against your shoulder until you were instantly pinned on your back with no opening to escape. You choked a sharp sound as you stared with wide eyes. The man was akin to a beast, he had the expression to match it, like the glaring sharp gaze of wolves that roam at the mountain cliffside near Zuzu city and the ferocity of the demonic mask he once wore. You were breath taken but in a more fearful way as he continued to grip onto you tighter with the possible intent to harm.

"Speak!” He demanded, “What have you done to my powers and where have you brought me?"

In Xiao’s case, he was thrown into another world under the circumstances of fighting against one of Liyue’s unknown beasts. He was on high alert, thinking the fight was still ongoing.

You may look human but you could still be a threat. Xiao is the type to act upon instinct in the moment when something feels out of place. Like the spear he wields, he was trained to behave like one: to strike, strike down his foes without hesitation. Don't leave an opening for them to take the advantage. Xiao is a weapon and violence was what he knew best. He couldn't afford to lower his guard even for a minute.

You could say he left a pretty strong first impression to the point you were paralyzed. As he looked at your face, petrified and tense, he wavered and began to reevaluate things. Large doe-like eyes stare into his feline ones. They didn't seem to hold any sort of malice, was it possible for you to be the one who cursed him?

"Eeeeeek! I-I have no idea what you're talking about, let me go let me go!" you cried, "Please don't hurt me!"

Perhaps he shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.

Xiao feels your struggle and eventually gets off to give you some space. Your reaction was understandable, he was used to it anyways. Xiao scoffed to himself, why are mortals so weak? Their strength, if compared to the adepti, was separated by a large gap (Like it always should be). Xiao kept his gaze averted to the side as you rubbed your wrist, focusing his attention elsewhere. He glanced at the vastness of the cave in front of him.

Why was he sent here? For what reason did it serve? Ever since he sealed the contract with Rex Lapis, the guardian Yaksha had never entertained the thought of leaving his country nor did he act upon it; he was far too loyal to his god to do so. But here he was, against his own will yet free from his karmic binds, stripped of his divine powers in the return of endless questions about this new found mortal-like form.

What should I do now?

Choosing not to dwell in any longer, Xiao rises to his feet and proceeds to walk the other way.

"Ah u-uhm sir, where are you going?"

If the universe wanted to test him then he'll find his own answers.

"Wait! Please wait up!"

"Tch."

Although he intended to keep going, Xiao heard you running to his direction and slowed to a halt, some mortals surely do not know their boundaries, "Hmph there's nothing timid about you. Leave me be," he demands without turning around, "Don't forget what I'm capable of."

Stay away.

"I-I know that," you retaliate weakly. Just by hearing his tone made you want to melt away and become one with the ice. He was a scary man indeed, the same one who attacked you earlier. But even so, "That doesn't mean I want you dead! If you go that way, you might freeze to death. Aren't you cold? You don't even have a coat on."

"..." Upon the mention of his predicament, his senses started to kick in. As a yaksha, Xiao wasn't able to be affected by temperature but now he felt his hands beginning to sting, trembling from it’s impact. Ah, so this is what it feels like to be cold. Still Xiao was stubborn and continued to push you away, "What happens to me has nothing to do with you. Now leave, or else."

"I-I can't do that!"

Xiao clicks his tongue in frustration. How annoying. This is why he dislikes meddling with meddlesome humans. But quite frankly, he wasn't sure how to handle your type of forwardness since most tend to back away. And so, Xiao does what he usually does, he ignores you and continues walking, eventually you'll give up on him anyway. However he hears a loud thump and whips around to see your body laying in the snow. The hours of travelling in the cave have seemed to caught up that you inevitably collapsed from exhaustion.

Knitting his evergreen brows together, Xiao lets out an irritable sigh.

...

You wake up to find the sky above your head and your coat draped over your shoulders like a blanket. Dawn was slowly rising above the distance valley, you figured it was around 4a.m in the morning. Rubbing your eyes, you eventually noticed a figure sitting across, admiring the sunrise.

"Ah it's you!"

Xiao jolts ever so slightly, peeking over his bare shoulders until you could see the sun's light casted against his golden irises. Did he stay here while you were asleep? Then, that would also mean he was also the one who carried you all the way up from sixty floors below.

“You're awake,” he noted flatly, “If that's the case, then I have no reason to stay here."

Of course, that wouldn't be the last time you saw him.

You were a tenacious human being, always so insistent in dragging him away from his lonesome personality. He resides in the forest and camps there for the time being (similar to Linus since they’re both homeless lol). But you’d always run in, DAILY and sometimes for the most stupid and mundane reasons. It could either be giving him the snacks you snatched off the table since Xiao refused to participate in parties, or fancy seashells you found on the beach. You didn’t want him to miss out on all those things of course! Although he responds with irritation, it was as if his words went through your ear and then out the other. His efforts were futile (however, he was slowly warming up without realizing).

He learns how easily his body reacts in the presence of food purely because he was hungry. You bring an extra set of blankets and pillows to his campsite when the ones you gave him wore out (he didn’t ask by the way). Xiao needed help whether he liked it or not since he no longer has his powers, hence he couldn't run away. He somehow ends up moving in to live on the small islands near your farm.

Xiao doesn't understand humans very much. Just as he was unable to understand how human emotions work. He was the almighty yaksha, Adeptus Xiao and a formidable beast that killed thousands in thousands of years, at least that's what he used to be. Even now he still has yet to figure out what he was or who he was exactly without a weapon to define his existence. He was made for battle but nowadays, he found himself watering plants, chopping down trees and throwing seeds to the chickens living in your coop. How did everything escalate to this? It baffles him, how much his life changed so drastically.

Haha, you’re Xiao of course! The greatest farming assistant I could ever have.

But above all else, the one thing Xiao couldn't understand among those universal questions, is you.

"Why are you doing all this?" Finally he asked. The urging thought had been persisting at the back of his mind ever since.

You stopped on your tracks and turned to look at him, tilting your head with a complexion made curious, "What do you mean? Ah, did I do something to bother you?"

"I didn't say that," Xiao interrupts abruptly, he folded his arms across his chest and shot you a deep contemplating gaze, " You're...incomprehensible. All I did was drag you out of that cave yet why are you so kind to me? Don't you think you're extending yourself too much just because of one little deed?"

Because to him, saving a life was the norm. He does it unconditionally just like you helped him with those same intentions. Except, Xiao had been pursuing corrupted souls behind the scenes all this time and expected nothing in return. Experiencing someone's gratitude was rather new.

You shook your head, "It wasn't small to me," a satisfactory smile melting onto your face, "I'm here at this very moment, feeling the wind against my skin and smelling the scent that nature carries, these are just the few things I cherish. It's thanks to you that I can still watch over grandpa's farm, that's why I don't feel like I'm overextending myself in any way," suddenly you beam at him, "At first I thought you were a scary person. Haha. Time flies so fast, it's amazing how much can happen in between."

"Hn, you're a simpleton. But that's not a bad thing..." he points out curtly yet softly, "Do as you wish, I won't stop you so feel free to call my name whenever you need my help. I'll be there."

Xiao also finds you to be very clumsy. He couldn't leave your side even for a minute. But that was a lie. He just grew very attached to you.

When you tell him that you've been going into the mines for a quest, he tells you that you're far from capable. So he teaches you how to wield a weapon properly. Xiao was a strict teacher and he intends to keep it that way, he wouldn’t even allow you to set foot in the mines until he finds you capable enough.

You were a meek yet optimistic person, yet you were also strong-willed.

For a place that wasn't his home, he felt it was. And he found that it was all in your presence. Those peaceful hours hiding inside the barn while a storm rages outside, you sit beside him while hugging a sheep close to your chest. Xiao learns how to feed some of them, he even brings seeds for your hen house too. If you were ever short on materials, Xiao would travel to the enchanted forest behind the wizard's tower and get them for you, no matter how late it was. Though if you went by yourself, he'd deliberately go with you despite your protest.

The minute Xiao realized how much he was attached to you, it was devastating. As if the claws of his karmic debt had come back, pulling him into the shadows once more. He was an adeptus with a contract and bound by his duty, he must choose between his god who saved him from a nightmare and you, the girl he fell for, showed him that the world was indeed a beautiful place, he was stuck in an equilibrium and he felt that the binds may even tear him apart if he kept resisting.

But when did he ever have a choice?

"Where are you going Xiao?"

When he heard your voice calling his name, the yaksha willingly pulled himself to a halt. His sunset eyes narrowing from guilt before it shuts with a trembling sigh out of his mouth. Why is it that you always appear during the moments where he desperately needs to get away from you? He planned to sneak out the door, making sure his footsteps were unheard while you slept. And by the time you woke up, he didn't have to face you, he wouldn't have to say goodbye. He won't. Even if what he was currently doing said otherwise. He will never hear himself say those words.

"Xiao?"

Yet, he cannot refuse you. Not now, not ever. You were breathtaken to see a type of expression that you never thought was possible for him to make. The creases that once formed between his slender brows, the heaviness he always carried in his expression was replaced by a sense of sentimentality. Before you could register what was happening, Xiao took his step towards the porch of your house, not once did he tear away from your attention. He slides his hand beneath your jaw and affectionately against your cheek, the fondness evident in his gaze that you almost felt imprisoned by it.

"You never fail to appear in the most inconvenient of times," He gives a weak smile, a smile that makes your heart swell. Despite how much you could drown in his honesty, you couldn’t help but feel there was something wrong, “No matter how many times I’ve tried to push you away.”

You don't know him. You don't know his history and what things he committed in the past. But as if you've known this whole time, Xiao couldn't picture you leaving him for those reasons.

“You’re gentle but you don’t let others put you down. You’re kind but you don’t allow it to be your weakness. I sometimes wonder how it is possible for anyone to be so forgiving?”

"I-I don’t understand why you’re this Xiao. Is something happening?”

He won’t tell you. He doesn’t see the reason why you need to know.

You wince when something poked the side of your neck and you realized it was a tranquilizer. You looked at Xiao with dismay, his face becoming hazier until your vision darkened and could no longer hold your own weight. Xiao caught you around the waist with one arm as you fell unconscious.

"How can you be so stupid...?"

But he speaks as if those words were meant for him.

Pulling your body closer to him, Xiao chains you down into a desperate embrace. A silent scream of desperation. His forehead pressed against the bent of your shoulder and the other arm rested his hand at the center of your back. He will relish in the shape of your body, memorizing every curve both perfections and flaws. The way you fit into his arms and the pleasant smell of nature that you taught him to love, this was the only remnant he was allowed to take. Every detail, he will remember it as if clinging to the last moments of his whole world.

If he was allowed to have a desire, let him meet you again. He prayed to a god, any god-- even if it meant damaging his oath, he will accept his punishment. He prayed to each star in the sky and if he must he'll pray to the devil himself, whatever it is, he will do it for you.

As he painfully lets go, Xiao lets his hand slide off your body until the last thing he felt was the very tips of your fingers. He settles you down gently into your bed. You belong here in this peaceful world, not the one riddled with monsters.

---

~Zhongli's Story~

The Skull Cavern was considered to be the most dangerous mine of Stardew Valley. It wasn't your intention to run into any trouble, all you wanted was to test your cool new galaxy sword on some easy monsters and then be on your merry way. At first.

Just one more floor. You say, before catching an arm sticking out a pile of rocks.

"I-Is that a person?!!!"

You dug as fast as you could, any time soon the mummies would wake up and start attacking. Quick quick! Moving the last rock, you saw the face of a young man, he was asleep but alive! and undeniably attractive oh wow *lip bite*. But despite your attempts of shaking him awake, it was fruitless and the monsters weren't waiting.

Taking out two warp totems, you raised it to the ceiling and chanted a teleportation spell.

It wasn't everyday that you brought a man to your house.

But when you did, he wouldn't be from a cave, six floors down and buried in a place filled with monsters.

"And this small black device you say is some form of communicator? That certainly is intriguing, never in my years have I heard of something so advanced."

However you were beginning to think otherwise. That this man would have been from the prehistoric ages who you managed to unbury after his thousand year slumber. Zhongli sits on the couch across from you while examining your smartphone, a term he claimed had been completely foreign. You were contemplating whether you should bother Harvey despite being past his work hour and book an emergency appointment to see if this man had a special case of amnesia.

You brushed the idea away. There was so much going on and nothing made sense, for now, you decided to settle this on your own.

"Uhm Zhongli is it?" you asked nervously, "Maybe you can try giving the name of a relative or someone you know. I can use the phonebook to see if I can find their number."

“Number?” He parroted.

You blinked a few times, making sure if you heard him correctly, “Yes, number. You know? To communicate?”

"I appreciate your kind gesture," Zhongli acknowledges in a polite manner, "But that won't be necessary. This device doesn’t seem to be at a level where it can communicate with the people from my homeland."

If he was travelling then how the hell did he end up in THE Skull Cavern is what I wanna know!

“T-Then if you don't mind me asking, where are you from?"

Zhongli takes this moment to think of an answer, aware that if he blurted something out it would not have translated in the way he wanted. But you so kindly invited him to your humble household that he felt it would only be proper to owe you an explanation, "I suppose a land from afar."

You sweatdropped, "Suppose?"

"Yes. Although I won't spare you the details since this is not your burden to bear, it’s quite difficult for me to try and remember exactly what happened," Zhongli took his chin into his hand, fingers almost covering his mouth, "Perhaps I would need search for clues in order to refresh my memory."

Oh no he really does have amnesia!!

"A-Actually why don't I just call the local doctor, I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a hand," you say while taking your iPhone.

"A doctor? There's no need," dismissed Zhongli, "My condition is only a minor one and I do not think I'm in a position to afford medical assistance. Besides, you have done more than enough. May you find great fortune in your years Miss (Y/n), I shall be on my way."

He pushes himself up from the couch and you watch him cross towards the door. But just when he was about to reach the space of your carpet, Zhongli pulled to an abrupt stop.

"Ah yes,” He began as if remembering something, “ Do you happen to know where the nearest Inn is located? I would need to find a place to shelter for the time being."

"..."

This was how the former god ended up being your roommate. Like Xiao, Zhongli also takes upon a human form. He needed to eat, drink and a place to sleep. He insisted that he would take the couch as well as help you with any tasks that needed to be completed during the day.

You question if Zhongli was even aware of what situation he was currently in. Answer: HE WASN'T because Zhongli is an extremely dense man. To feel embarrassed was not part of his dictionary when living with a woman.

The type to take long showers. You always find the bathroom steaming because he doesn't turn on the fan to get rid of it (but maybe you should've taught him). So when it was your turn to use the shower, the water was either lukewarm or worst case scenario, cold.

Also he somehow finds your old kettle (that your grandfather used) to brew tea even though you told him you already had a water boiler. He stated that he liked doing things the old-fashioned way, it brings him a sense of nostalgia. You couldn't understand what he meant (unless you considered that he was older than he seemed....no that can’t be it!)

Despite it all, Zhongli was incredibly polite and considerate. Tending the farm was not an easy job and you often came home with sore muscles, fatigued from running so many errands. He's knowledgeable in terms of making the best herbal mix for a soothing remedy.

You would see a warm cup, every morning before going to work and every time you come home, it was sitting on the kitchen table (if his drink had potion effects, they would be regeneration).

Gentle he was but it wasn't good for your heart.

Ever since Zhongli moved in, it became difficult to live in your own house.

There were many situations where he caused trouble despite not intending to cause disruption to your daily routine. And when he did, the repairs came out of your own pocket. One time you opened your microwave to find thick ash and burnt cinders stuck upon the walls.The entire space was a hazard and needed to be dispensed immediately since Zhongli thought that plastic-wrapped items were allowed to be microwaved. Another incident, as bizarre as it sounded, was when your vacuum cleaner zoomed out of your house...and never came back. You remembered the awkward cough he gave when you shot him a deathly glare, hence why Zhongli was not allowed to touch your high-tech devices (if you considered them high-tech) without your permission.

Even so, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. It was the opposite in fact. One day, all the flaws you counted suddenly became his charms. You came to find them endearing almost.

Zhongli was a handsome man. He carried himself with a distinct aura that could only be found in the rarest geodes; revealing orestones mined from the depths of a forgotten cave, sometimes in the shape of exquisite artifacts-- a type of ancient charm. Perhaps that was why people were willing to obey his every command without hesitation. Whenever Zhongli spoke, it was full of firmness and authority yet somehow deprived of arrogance. He was polite to all and does not indulge in conflict despite how tempting gossip can be in modern society. Always patient during your temperamental moments and considerate to the point you wonder if he even had any desires. He was so kind that soon enough, you couldn't help but be flustered by his presence. Forget about having a conversation, maintaining his leveled gaze was already enough of a challenge. Like staring into the sun after the morning dew. So gentle and so very comforting. But the more you linger onto the sun, it's rays will continue to set ablaze, eventually bringing you pain.

And you feared that you have grown addicted to those feelings.

Why can't he understand?

Stopping at the center of the bridge, you kept your head low while letting the anger take form into your tightened fists. The town was empty with only the sound of water flowing beneath your feet, filling the heavy air. They rippled and swayed, peaceful amongst your inner turmoil. The fact that such a miniscule attribute was able to make your blood rise was hilariously pitiful. How did you stoop to a point that even nature, the very being you've tended for a living, could bring you bitterness? Were your feelings this uncontrollable? The answer was obvious. It spiraled, violently and mercilessly as if commanded by another. There was a wave of emotions filling your heart and you could almost feel yourself drowning from the inside. If only they were as tranquil as the ones you stood upon.

"I thought I would find you here."

The voice you dreaded calls from across and you fight to keep yourself from gasping. Oblivious to it all, Zhongli proceeds to close the distance until he towered over you, looking down to your bowed head, "When you hadn't returned home without a notice, I was getting worried if something had happened. But I'm glad that wasn't the case."

Your whole face clenches.

"Is something bothering you? If you would like, we can discuss it after eating dinner. Come, I have already prepared our meal while you were gone as well as turning off the rice cooker once finished. I hope it can ease your stress since I know it can be difficult maintaining a farm like this."

"Zhongli."

He blinks hard when the sound of his name falls out of your lips. Zhongli was an experienced observer and listener, he was able to catch the glimpse of frustration that dripped from the tone you used. Relaxing his poised shoulders, Zhongli carefully asked in a reserved manner, "Have I...done something to make you upset?"

A trembled breath escaped when you breathed out. Dense. He was so dense that sometimes it made you want to crack him open.

"Tell me..." you began, "Are you also like this with other women?"

The former god sets a brief sharp pause, "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm talking about the way you act, they're...giving me all these mixed signals. We've been living together for months, we even share meals together! And sometimes you would help me with the farm and when I didn't ask, you still insisted on tending to my needs when I felt sick. I just…” you trailed off, trembling ever so slightly, "It's all perfectly normal. You’re nice to everyone. I know that. I know that!"

"(Y/n)," Zhongli whispered. They sounded like a thousand needles to your heart.

"I doubt you have the intention to put me in this situation. You're a really great person Zhongli but I sometimes can't help feeling this isn't just some roommate thing you know?" closing your eyes, you thought of your past relationships, how they started and ended, "Do any of your actions mean anything to you? Do you know how it makes me feel? Or am I just overthinking this, that it was all one-sided this whole time?"

Alas the truth spills and the air stills, bringing the waves to a halt. Peace, tranquility, nothingness. That was all you wanted. That was all you heard. It was deafening.

"I see, so that's why," Zhongli mutters to himself with eyes narrowed, "There's...something I need to confess."

After several months, he tells you everything. How his memories returned, some of them were already intact. He told you about his homeland and his true identity, that he was a god that once ruled over Liyue for six centuries before giving away the gnosis.

The reason why he hadn't said anything until now was because there will be a day where Zhongli must depart and return to Teyvat. He was a god with a contract, the circumstance didn't matter, he must stay with it until the very end of time.

Through his years, Zhongli learned to cherish his finite moments. He didn't want to taint them with troubles to come. Thinking too far ahead into the future would only bring strain.

But what he didn't tell you was his true feelings. You were a sweet woman, tender and enthusiastic about agriculture, the way your feelings extend to the earth with grace whereas many others chose to trample over without hesitation, he fell deeply in love with that side of yours. You taught him many things and showed him many sides of humanity that he had never seen before. He even discovered an aspect of himself. Like breaking a geode, revealing the beauties held inside.

Zhongli couldn't look you in the eye when your expression was covered in disbelief. He thought he hid his feelings well but it seemed that he was expressing his love in subtle and subconscious ways that eventually drove you to fall for him as well. You didn't stop him when he left the bridge. He wasn't even in your house. He chose this, he chose to set you free from his heavy presence.

And as the weight started to lift from your shoulder, you sank to your knees and wept. It was cruel of him. To give you these emotions yet he could not bring himself to stay by your side. But your heart would not allow you to hate the man you love.

Things couldn't end this way. You had to say goodbye to him, see him one last time because if you didn't, these burdens will haunt you forever.

When Zhongli looked up to the sky he saw his ending drawing near.

Three days had passed since he last spoke with you and he had no plans in seeing you again. Soon, the former god will return to his rightful place. Even though he had already given his gnosis to the Cryo Archon as Liyue already began to enter a new era, it seems that his decisions weren't his to make as he was born in a world where stars ruled above the archons. Fate-- they won't allow it. He does not belong here. If there was one thing Zhongli regretted during his time in your world, it was that he couldn't leave you a good memory before taking his departure. The sight of your large glassy eyes and quivering lips when he crushed you with the truth, he sincerely believed that they would haunt him much more than it probably did to you. But perhaps things would be easier if you despised him. Because if he had stayed and you came to forgive him, he would no longer have the strength to let go.

Despite it all love was indeed a selfish creature. He couldn't help but feel resentment towards the stars for bringing you into his life in such a mockingly sweet manner. They tied him with a contract, made him vow to his own beliefs and tested them by using you-- a bystander struck between the crossfire, eventually bringing you down into the depths of his battlefield and he thought that maybe...maybe there was hope that he could bring you with him as well.

How disgraceful for a god to let the devil tempt him so.

Zhongli was thankful that you weren't beside him. Otherwise he would dance with the ugly hope of a slim chance for you to come along. This was the best choice. It was for his-- your own good.

"Zhongli!"

The arch of his lined eyes shot upwards. As if fate had decided to give him one final test, he felt your small figure crash into him from behind and your arms coming to hug around his waist, tightly and fearfully that he felt like you would be the one who would slip away instead.

"I...I made it time," you panted, burying your nose into his clothed back, "I’m so glad...I'm so glad you're still here…!"

Your cry of relief was a thunder to his ears, a reminder that he was the main cause. Zhongli, casted by solemn smile, lifts his hand to cover over yours and grasped onto them, I'm here, he wishes to say. Yet he knew they were only temporary promises, "To come all this way despite everything that has happened. You foolish girl..."

"It's your fault Zhongli, I'm a fool because I love you! It's all your fault that I have to say goodbye," You grit your teeth as the tears fell down your face until it blended into his clothes, "Take me with you. Please. Don't leave me all alone…!"

The words he wanted to say melted into a silent gasp through parted lips. Zhongli merely clenched them back together and his hand on your hand, even tighter. He won't lie to you. At the very least, let his actions speak for him where he himself could not.

Take me with you.

Don't leave me alone.

Goodbye.

If it is fated Morax...we will meet again.

"I see," letting his thoughts echo in his mind from the distant memories, the former god begins to take a new perspective upon his wisdom, "For many years, I have experienced countless farewells from the people I've come to known," Zhongli reminisced, tilting his head back with his golden eyes against night, as if searching for some sort of answer, "And yet I never thought what it must have felt like being in their position."

"Zhongli…" you trailed off, "Then don't! I may not know everything about you but it doesn't have to be this way. At least, just answer me this, will I ever see you again?"

"I'm sorry (Y/n)," he apologized and you knew the answer. He gently pries your arms off him, turning around so he could swipe the corner of your eyes dry. There was a glowing reverence in his countenance, one that he reserved for you and only you, it was the only way for him to express the feelings that run deep in his heart, "I cannot thank you enough for coming into my life. If there will be a day when I erode from your memories, I truly hope that you will find someone more suitable than I."

"That's ridiculous," defiantly, refusedly, you protest, "No one can replace you."

Zhongli laughs sadly as the white halo outlines his whole figure, signaling that there wasn't much time left. He wonders if there was anything he could do in his last moments, a small token, something, it could even be as small as a single star in the sky, "If it is fated...we will meet again."

You watch him turn transparent until he slipped from your grasp. No longer was the man, only the dust being one with the sky. They shone brilliantly but you were left in the darkness.

[gohyuck]

pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno​ @domjaehyun​ @waithyuck​ for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day. 

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong. 

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage. 

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned. 

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur. 

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye. 

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard���s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up. 

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer. 

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple. 

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be. 

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe. 

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together. 

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal. 

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response. 

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either. 

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now. 

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is. 

nobody is the warrior that jeno is. 

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.” 

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy. 

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here. 

he is real. he is here. 

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights. 

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips. 

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin. 

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one. 

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that. 

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face. 

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips. 

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours. 

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy. 

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach. 

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body. 

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own. 

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body. 

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way. 

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you. 

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it. 

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded. 

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that. 

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him. 

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing. 

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath. 

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care. 

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours. 

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed. 

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe. 

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want. 

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need. 

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”  

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?” 

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want. 

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper. 

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced. 

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again. 

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet. 

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full. 

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want. 

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly. 

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately. 

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.” 

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit. 

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer. 

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows. 

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan. 

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side. 

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware. 

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does. 

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops. 

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind. 

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment. 

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love. 

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

[your-brilliant-lady-m]

Part 2 - Basic Concepts of Miraculous Ladybug: Kwami

Kwamis are a fun concept and one of the main draws of the series. They make sense story-wise because, firstly, our characters need some support system. And since a lot of conflicts are centred around secret identities, characters should be able to discuss their double life with someone. As magical beings they could also be used to expand the lore, introduce new concepts and drive forward both the plot and character development. It doesn't always happen but Kwamis are a good idea. Some people who write AU's think that Kwamis are redundant, but I have to disagree.

Origins and nature

Where do Kwamis come from? What are they? It's never explained. Oh wait, it was explained in a comic people can accidentally find. You decide to explain the origins and nature of magical beings who are one of the key elements in your magic system and worldbuilding IN A SIDE COMIC, which has zero effect on your main story. Sounds legit.

Here it is.

So, Kwamis are abstract creatures. They can become tangible and interact with the world because of the miraculous jewels. Essentially, each Miraculous acts as an anchor to the material world for Kwami. They existed since the beginning of time and were invisible observers of the universe. Until they settled on Earth and observed how humanity came to be. This is where things get interesting.

Kwamis are the embodiment of abstract concepts. But, some abstract concepts were created by people (like everything mentioned in the comic: beauty, math, love, etc).

Kwamis wanted to help humans. And then, a human, who couldn't see, hear or touch a Kwami creates miraculous jewels. And now these beings can interact with the world, use their powers and grant them to humans. Yet, they are completely under control of their holder. I'll discuss it later, but why did Kwamis accept this deal? They are practically enslaved. At the same time they care about people and generally love humanity.

According to the wiki Kwamis grant powers because of "the privilege of having the ability to be perceived by mortals". What? Did I read that right? Kwamis agreed to be enslaved and used as a power source, because they wanted to interact with material world. That's it, guys, end of the story.

We also know these things about nature and abilities of Kwamis from the show:

1) need food, but only to provide the power for the holder;

2) can't phase through precious metals (Chloe's bracelet in "Rogercop"), their own miraculous and humans;

3) they can control if they phase through things or not – meaning that if they want to, they can (this way Tikki can stay in Marinette’s purse without much trouble and Plagg sleeps on Adrien’s pillow);

4) they can perform magic without a holder but they don’t control it very well, there are certain types of things that they can’t do without a holder;

5) they are immortal but can get sick for some reason, a non-magical reason mind you;

6) technology can't detect them in any way, you can't film, photograph or record their voices (writers establish this many times, but promptly forget all about their own rules in "Optigami", where Marinette talks with Kwamis over the phone without any problems).

If I missed something important, then let me know.

Look, the questions related to origins and motivations of Kwamis might not be very prominent in your story right now, but you must answer them in case you might need to involve these facts in the plot down the line. It's important to avoid contradictions in the serialised story with liquid plot, that can't be set in stone. It's a made up world for the sake of everything sacred! You can make up explanations and rules, of course as long as they don't contradict common sense.

Plausible ideas for origins and nature of Kwamis:

1) Kwamis are immortal spirits, whom humans accidentally summoned and bound with spells to Miraculous stones. They remember their existence before this. This version doesn't really explain their desire to serve people and love for humanity, however. It would be more logical for Kwamis to resent people for enslaving them. It doesn't explain how humans could create those spells and Miraculous stones either.

2) Kwamis are physical manifestations of abstract concepts who existed simply as fragments of matter for a very long time without sentience, until they were accidentally summoned through the Miraculous stones and bound by humans to serve them. Kwamis do not remember their existence before Miraculous. In this version Kwamis serve humans and love them because they have never known a different kind of existence. Unfortunately, it doesn't provide any explanation on the creation of Miraculous and spells.

3) Kwamis are gods, who created the universe with all its elements and concepts including humanity (similar to Valar and Maiar in Tolkien's Legendarium). They wanted to help their creations but discovered that their power was too wild and unpredictable for that. So, Kwamis decided to give up their free will and magical independence to help humanity. Together they created Miraculous stones for humans to use and sealed themselves inside. Kwamis as gods were abstract concepts, who didn't have a body. The act of sealing their power in the Miraculous gave them an opportunity to interact with outside world (an anchor) and each Kwami chose an small animal form (because humans easily formed bonds with animals, had animal companions (pets), small animals look non-threatening and familiar). Kwamis intentionally choose certain animal forms to suit the human symbolism. Humans later used magic that Kwamis discovered for them to place spells upon small gods (spells related to identity protection and so on). This version answers most questions, but if Kwamis are gods then powers they grant to people seem to be rather small.

Feel free to add more. I would be interested to hear your ideas.

Identity Protection

In "Origins" we learn that Wayzz can sense the aura of Butterfly Miraculous, a negative aura of activated Butterfly Miraculous, to be more precise. And yet, Tikki and Plagg are genuinely surprised to discover the identities of their holders in "Dark Owl". There are several things wrong with that.

Can Kwamis sense each other's presence? They shouldn't be able to do this to protect the identities of their holders. On the other hand, they are ancient spirits. So, their inability to sense each other seems weird. Unless it's the same situation as with the spell that does not allow them to speak the name of their holder aloud.

But if they can sense each other like Wayzz did, then it means that Plagg and Nooroo were living in the same house for over a year and nothing happened. I mean, Plagg could have just come upstairs, take off the brooch from Gabriel, while he is asleep and return it back to Fu.

This question lies right here, on the surface. And that's only one massive and very obvious plothole. How to fix it? Establish that Kwami can't sense each other for identity protection. In "Origins" Fu meditates on his balcony and Wayzz sees a charged Akuma flying by. That's how they discover that Butterfly is in Paris and the Miraculous is in the wrong hands. Perhaps, Gabriel akumatizes someone for the first time to survey the surroundings and general public is not aware of this. This works better in the narrative, giving Fu time to select holders for Ladybug and Black Cat. It also establishes whether Hawkmoth can remove the Akuma from someone without Ladybug and discharge it. Maybe it depends on the circumstances (sometimes he can, but if this person was akumatized many times or their emotions are too strong and their mind doesn't want to let Akuma go then Hawkmoth can't pull the butterfly out with his magic). This scenario allows for Volpina to happen on "Heroes' Day". Silly recurring Akumas like Gigantitan and Mr. Pigeon could still happen. In this case Gabriel didn't want to akumatize the guy more than 70 times on purpose. It just keeps happening against his better judgement because evil butterflies are automatically attracted to Mr. Ramier. This way repeated attacks of Mr. Pigeon annoy Hawkmoth just as much as they do the heroic duo of Paris (I did not sign up for this Nathalie!).

Let's come back to the spell mentioned earlier for a moment. Kwamis can't say the name of their current holder out loud, but apparently, they can exploit a loophole in the spell by confirming the identity of their holder in another way. The spell doesn't work with other holders. Kwami can say the names of other holders if they know their identity. That being said, can the holder order the Kwami to tell them the identities of other heroes if they know them?

Kwamis know how each Miraculous looks with or without camouflage. Can the holder order the Kwami to tell them how each Miraculous looks in disguise (I liked that Grimoire doesn't have pictures of camouflage for identity protection)? Guardians can recognise Miraculous in any mode (Su Han). Did Fu teach Marinette this? Does she know how each Miraculous looks like unactivated?

Oh! Since we are discussing camouflage, let's take a moment to appreciate the Mother Of All Plotholes. Plagg didn't recognise Peacock because of the plot.

Relationship with Holder

I absolutely loved the idea that Kwamis must obey their holder introduced in "Sandboy". This concept opens tons of plot opportunities. It's such a great idea that makes sense, has potential, can create conflict. Why, oh, why didn't writers develop it more?

Like, it was so good. It can be a great push for character development. This concept resolves so many existing inconsistencies within the plot. It's mind-blowing.

Why can't Nooroo simply leave Gabriel, so that he wouldn't be able to transform? Because Gabriel bound him with Miraculous to always stay near.

In "Sandboy" Tikki asks Marinette's permission before going to the meeting. Plagg lies to Adrien instead. This implies that usually Plagg's holders weren't kind to him or feared his power (Su Han's remark in "Furious Fu"). Perhaps, his holders were taught to keep the Kwami of destruction under constant control. So, Plagg in turn has learned not to ask, because if he doesn't ask permission then his holder can't deny him freedom with magic.

Can Kwami lie to their holder? Maybe they can't lie to their holder about their nature, origins and powers and other Miraculous (but Kwamis can't reveal the location of Miracle Box, Guardian's identity and can't confirm identities of other holders known to them in any way). Kwami would be forced to speak even if they don't want to. That's why Nooroo told Gabriel everything about the abilities of the Butterfly Miraculous and the wish secret of Ladybug and Black Cat.

But Kwamis can lie to their holder according to Plagg in "Sandboy". If Kwamis can lie about everything (including powers) then Nooroo didn't have any reason to be honest with Gabriel way back in "Origins".

Speaking of Gabriel and Nooroo. Can Kwamis harm their holder? Maybe doing so would harm the Kwami as well. Can they do it only when the holder is not wearing the Miraculous? Can Kwami take their Miraculous from their holder? Will they disappear if they try to do so? It seems like Kwami disappears only when the holder takes off the Miraculous with the intention of renouncing power, the words "I renounce you" are not necessary.

Other Kwamis can take the Miraculous from people if it's not their own (Wayzz in "Feast"). But what if it wasn't possible. Imagine what could happen if it's not possible to take the Miraculous by force from the transformed or untransformed hero. Just like Lady WiFi couldn't remove Ladybug's mask. A person has to willingly give up the Miraculous. Only in this case, it's possible to take it. For example, somewhere around the middle of season 3 Hawkmoth could have trapped Ladybug and Chat Noir and cut off any escape routes. His Akuma tries to take both Miraculous, but they don't budge. Then afterwards, every Akuma tries to manipulate the heroes using hostages, illusions or mind control. It's hard to say whether this version will be better than canon, but it's a fascinating theory.

You can use the idea of obedience to create more situations contrasting the relationship of Plagg and Adrien, Gabriel and Nooroo. I liked how canon created a storyline about Plagg learning to control his powers without a holder and Adrien helping him. However, why would you stop here? Give us some flashbacks about Plagg's previous holders, tell us what kind of people they were. Expand the lore and add some character development for Plagg and Adrien. The same thing goes for Marinette. What kind of battles did they have in the past? What kind of people past holders were? Did Ladybug and Black Cat heroes always get along well? Were they allies or enemies? Were they always lovers?

Give us more information about Butterfly and Peacock holders. Perhaps Nooroo has dreams about his past holders who were good people. Show us what kind of things a Butterfly holder with good intentions can do. Tell us more about Duusu and her past holders, sprinkle in a few bits of info about Emilie and Duusu's relationship, just a few vague hints to preserve the mystery. You have a lot of screentime each season and instead of doing filler episodes dedicated to love drama, you can use them for developing minor characters, relationships between them and lore.

[vesuvianmess]

Popsicles?

Art by @jilljoycearts Drexxel is @vesuvianmess Vell is @deathbyarcana

A short fic recounting how these two met, pulled (with some edits) directly from a currently running roleplay.

Quick Warning: Contains mentions of stalking and harassment

"You are very welcome, have a good rest of your day!" He waved the group off with a smile. "Hiya, what can I get you?" He asked another.

Flitting back and forth from group to group, he greeted every single person with a genuine smile. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing others light up with joy. He’d taken up working at the bakery part time to help with some expenses of running his own shop. And he had to admit, the smell of fresh baked bread may have influenced that choice. The job was never boring as the market was always flooded with people, locals and travelers alike, all looking for something. Still, he only worked with Selasi during the mornings and early afternoons. When he’d had his fill, he would return home to open the doors to his own little business.

But today, he had something a little different in mind. Instead of selling little animal pelts, herbs, bits, and bobbles, he was in and out again in a flash. Having changed into something much more comfortable for the heat, he pulled a wheeled cart behind him to the town square. Near the fountain, he’d found the perfect spot and pulled the cover off the cart. It would take him a little time to set everything up, but once it was done, he noticed people already beginning to gather around. Some faces he'd seen many, many times before. Others, much more new. Taking a seat on an overturned wooden bucket, he twirled a pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“Hello Vesuvia, I’m bringing you a special late afternoon show! Now then," he sat up a little, the line of his back straightening. "For those of you new to my show, we have fun here! Here's how this goes!" making a grand sweeping gesture to the gathered crowd, he continued on. "You may request a song but there is no guarantee I will play it. I will not tolerate pushing, shoving, or otherwise harmful activity during my shows. And, as always, tips are appreciated but not required, come stay for awhile and feel the beat of the sound! I'm Drexxel Volkov, and may luck be forever in your favor!" 

It started with a small metallic chime, a shortstop of little taps on the rims of the set. But before long the square was alight with the beating of drums. His whole body moved in time with each beat almost as if he were dancing along to his own song. Small children bounced and tugged at their parents' sleeves, urging them to get closer. New comers stood with delighted expressions, some even getting a little antsy standing in one place, others giving way to bouncing their bodies to the rhythm. 

There was nothing better than this, looking out into the crowd as he thrummed away the minutes, flipping the sticks and singing along even though nobody could hear him over the heartbeat he'd created. 

The crowd was thick as usual but new faces stuck out easy to him. Even with the prick of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, he was able to focus enough to make everyone feel included in his performance. One face in particular he stopped at for more than a split second. A taller man with vivid blue hair, dark skin, and a sort of shaken demeanor. He looked….out of place perhaps amid the crowd, like he could bolt at any moment. Drexel found himself stealing glances at the man throughout his show, a dizzying knot of butterflies in his gut as he saw the man start to meld into the hum around him. The thrill of the performance carried him through like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, his fiery passion shining through clear as day. Every movement felt natural, every breath felt like a whole new beginning. Drexxel never came from a background that favored this sort of thing, rather it was something he'd picked up on his own time. He had the extra energy to spare and needed an outlet to help with it. Besides, he always did like seeing people smile and what better way to do that then get them moving? 

Into the second song now and he felt a wave of static run through him. Someone in the crowd was a magician. He could feel it. Even through the loud beating of drums and the crashing of cymbals the low electrical humming filled his body. He was sure of it. But was this magician able to sense him as well? That he did not know. He wasn’t sure precisely where the feeling was coming from, but he was determined to draw it out. With it toying at his mind, he decided it was time to show off just a little more. After all, using magic was a good way to lure out another magician. 

Drexxel simply waited as he beat along in time to find the perfect moment to really show off his moves. Normally he would have saved this bit for later in the evening, but he just had to do it now. After feeling that little pang of magic, he knew he had to show whoever was producing it, that they weren't the only one with fancy magic at their fingertips. Just a moment longer....

When the final chorus of the song hit, he let it loose. His drumsticks sparked and crackled to life, enveloped in searing hot flames. With his sticks now burning with intense heat, he slammed away at his drums with more grandeur and energy than before. With each hit fire roared from the contact point, creating a dazzling display of towers of fire in varying sizes. If anything were to draw this other magician out, it would be this. 

By the end of the show, much to his dismay, this fellow kin had not revealed themselves. It was a bit of a shame really, he would have loved to have someone join in his performance. What a dazzling display that would have been. He could only imagine what kind of magic would have complimented his own.

"Thank you all for joining me this afternoon!" He gave a bow, his hair falling a bit loose from his bun. "It's a hot one out today so make sure to stay hydrated and get some good food in your belly!" 

 He stood and lifted his arms over his head in a long stretch before using the rad cloth tied to his side to wipe away the sweat that cling to his skin. The show was over, but people still lingered in the area, some tossing coins into an open bowl near the drum set, others approaching Drexxel with questions. He was small for his age of twenty-five, standing at mere chest (or just below) level with most other adult’s that spoke with him. He had a thin, but decently sturdy frame with most of his strength apparent in his legs. Most people would know him for a scar that ran along his right cheek. Whenever asked about it he would simply tell them he didn’t remember where it came from but knew he’d had it most of his life. 

The town square was still bustling with people as he began to pack up his things. Above it all though, he could hear footsteps approaching him. He paused a moment then spun on his heel to come face to face with a regular to his shows. The man was leagues taller than himself and had a strange look to his eyes. He was holding a piece of paper, crumpled and damp with sweat in his hands. Drexxel heard the man speak but didn’t quite catch the words. 

“I’m sorry?” He responded back, urging the man to repeat himself. When he did, a chill ran down his spine. “...Go out with me. Dinner.” He pushed the paper into Drexxel’s hands. “You’re so pretty.” 

The smaller pulled the note apart just enough to read it. In shaken scrawl it read:

‘Don’t make a scene. I’ve been planning this. You and I belong together.’

He’d seen this sort of thing before in books and screenplays. Some secret admirer gets too confident and goes after someone who isn’t interested and it becomes a problem. Problem being a kind way to put it. Harassment was a better word for it. Bold of him to make the attempt in broad daylight, let alone a busy square. In the kindest way possible, Drexel looked up at the man and spoke.

“I’d love to, but I have plans this evening. Another show I mean.” 

He felt the prickle of magic in the air again, but it wasn’t coming from the man in front of him. The magician was still in the area. 

"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." the man's voice broke him from his thoughts. "I'll be picking you up this evening."

Drexxel's brow furrowed, the energy around him shifting like hissing smoke trying to catch on damp wood. 

"I'm really sorry, I mean it." He offered a sincerely looking apologetic smile. "But I really must be getting home." He made a move to leave but was stopped when the man caught his wrist. 

"You're not going anywhere short-stack." 

This....could be bad. As much as the crowd had dissipated, there were still people lingering about. Too much of a risk to cause a scene. But every fiber of Drexxel's being was telling him to flee. He needed an out. In the most...nonchalant way possible, he attempted to wriggle his wrist free. 

"Your performance really spoke to me Drexxy. It's like you were composing a symphony just for me." As he was caught in his own little moment, Drexxel pulled his wrist free. But it only lasted a second.

He felt a pull against his skin before he heard a small snap. The man had missed when reaching for Drexxel's wrist and instead caught the beaded double bracelet on his wrist. Beads had gone flying haphazardly in every direction, landing on the stones below like pellets. In that moment he felt the pull of magic much closer than before. This other magician was close. Very close. 

Drexxel was unfortunately used to people approaching him with much more....fervor than he anticipated. However, this particular instance was something else. He'd never had someone so adamant on taking him home. If this were to go on for a moment longer, he was sure to lose his composer. He may be a pretty upbeat guy but he also had a notoriously short fuse. 

That hissing aura was rapidly kindling itself from a crackling campfire to a firestorm. When his bracelet snapped, he felt something in him switch. Rage bubbled up under his skin like pot boiling over on a stove set too high. His fist clenched and a growl escaped him. 

But then, out of nowhere, everything around him stopped. He was about to throw a fiery punch but stopped short when he saw another man between him and his new 'friend'. It was the man he saw in the crowd! He said he was there to help just now. But what was he doing here and how did he…

"How--?" Then it hit him like a hard slap to the face. "So you're the magician I was picking up on!" His anger flickered back to amusement and joy. "I knew I wasn't imagining it! Oh! The helping thing, yes." 

Drexxel offered the newest stranger a warm, bright smile. Without hesitation, he grabbed his hand and shook it furiously. 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Drexxel! What do you say we blow this popsicle stand and get somewhere far away from this creep?"

The other man seemed to freeze up, like he expected a much worse response. His whole arm wobbled when Drexxel shook it. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in shock. It took him a minute to process what the smaller man had said to him. 

“Oh, I…that is….popcicles?” The man felt his face go hot, blood rushing to his cheeks. He was sure the smaller man would mistake him for a tomato. 

Drexxel watched him curiously. It was like watching the gears of a clock turning, the way this man seemed to be having an inner monologue with himself about whether or not he’d made the right call to get involved. He could feel how shaken up the man was, his hand trembling. Not very good at keeping his cool was he? Finally he spoke again. 

“It’s localized. My….my magic…it…I mean I…no, it. It will wear off when we get a distance away. He could follow? I- who, well…popsicles?”

Drexxel had always been good at making new friends and getting people to laugh and smile. He was small, yes, but he made up for his size with seemingly boundless energy. It was nearly impossible to not like the guy. But, he could tell, he kind of took this one by surprise. But it wasn't the first time someone had responded this way. Not often he got to see someone turn that red before though!

Whoever this new guy was, Drexxel had never seen his face in Vesuvia before. And he’dbeen in the city for quite some time now. It'd been since he was about nineteen. He knew almost every face in Vesuvia, even if a good handful of them were only in passing. But this one, this one he wanted to know more about. Consider his interest piqued. 

When time came back and this new magician struggled to make a clear sentence, it was all Drexxel could do to hold in a laugh. Localized magic though, not sure he'd heard of that one before. He completely skipped over the popsicle schtick.

"Localized huh? Hey, think you could use your magic with mine? I'm thinking....a wall of fire!" He still hadn't let go of the stranger's hand. "I could put a wall of fire around him, just tall enough to trip him up of course. You could stop time around it until we get far enough away that your....localization wears off!" Mossy green eyes brimmed with excitement. He gave the hand in his a squeeze. 

"I bet we'll make a great team!"

He could see the man trying to process the words coming out of Drexxel’s mouth. He’ll admit, he was a bit of a fast talker when he was excited. 

“Wall of fire…” He repeated Drexxel’s words, more to himself than the other, considering the idea. Not terribly flawed, he thought. A quick fix but not long lasting. “Worth…worth a shot.” an unsteady voice. “Wait - a team?” Vell had barely gotten the words out before the air thrummed with magical energy and, just as promised, fire sprung to life around the note wielding creep. If the situation weren’t as it was, he might have taken time to admire the flames.

"That's what I said isn't it? A team!" He mused, giving this new friend a wink. 

When time did in fact stop around his flames, the passion in his eyes burned that much brighter. He beamed at this new stranger. 

"Talk about a cool party trick. Come on, let's get out of here." Still gripping that hand, he took off. Hopefully this new friend could keep up with him. 

They took off out of the square, rushing past pedestrians and shopping stalls in a race to escape the area. Drexxel had taken the lead, ducking and diving under obstacles like it was as easy as breathing. He felt his new found companion trip up a few times but he managed to keep up the pace. He was new to Vesuvia and hadn’t the slightest idea where the two of them were headed. Drexxel looked back to check on his new friend at just the wrong moment. The edge of his sandal caught on uneven stone, sending him tumbling into an unattended fruit cart, scattering oranges along the alley. He’d never let go of this new companion’s hand, and in turn, the two of them fell together. The other man now had him pinned, a leg on either side of him. 

“I-- We-- uh…” The stranger fought to find the right words, feeling like a tea kettle ready to whistle. “We fell.” 

Drexxel could feel his own face burning a bright shade. He would have been able to laugh it off if it weren’t for his immediate attraction to this man. Impulse guiding him, he offered the man a toying smirk. “You know, I think this might be fate.” He winked. “And I don’t even know your name.” 

“M-my name?” The other man stuttered.

He tried to stand, pulling on Drexxel’s hands to pull him up as well, only to lose his footing. He fell back onto the stone, the smaller of the two now sitting perched on his abdomen. The look in his eyes was….entrancing. Intoxicating even. He couldn’t look away. “I’m Vell.” 

“Vell…” Drexxel liked the way the name felt when he said it. He let his hands drift to the other man’s chest, watching him with bright eager eyes.

Now, what was that saying about playing with fire?

[maxwell-grant]

AIUI, Burbank is even more a question mark than The Shadow is; we don't know if that's a personal name, surname, or nickname, we no nothing of his past, his personal life, or even (again, AIUI) his personality. Is that something that should be kept in adaptations, or ought he be developed more?

Both.

The thing about developing a mystery is that you still need to have something in place to purposefully obscure or slowly reveal. You still need to give your audience tidbits and information here and there that makes them want to learn more and find out what the answer is, even if they know it's never really happening, even if the answer couldn't possibly live up to the hype.

Twin Peaks was able to delay the mystery of Laura Palmer's murder for an entire season and more partially because Laura Palmer had such an rich, troubled inner life and turmoil, that we could gradually receive snippets of information regarding it every episode and still not know the whole story, so much so that, even after we learned who did it, there were still many, many stories to be told within Laura Palmer's life and the city. This holds true for The Shadow, and it holds true for Burbank.

Gibson successfully created intrigue regarding Burbank because, not only was Burbank a crucially important figure in The Shadow's organization and therefore someone we'd want to know more about, but because everytime Burbank showed up to play a substantial role, you could gleam something new about him. Burbank is a great example of staging in The Shadow pulps because his scenes are often written as if we were watching a movie where the head of our main character keeps being blocked from view, until it's revealed, and it doesn't really help us understand him much better than before, even though we've come to learn more about what he acts and looks like.

In fact, The Shadow even seems to be aware of this, such as in the scene below when the narration goes to great lenghts to obscure Burbank's face, even in a scene when there is literally no one around but Burbank and The Shadow. Why go through this much trouble to obscure Burbank from no one but the reader? Why not just refrain from describing what he looks like instead of making sure we can't even imagine what he looks like in our heads in the scene? What's the mystery over what's ostensibly just an average quiet-faced man? And so Burbank doesn't become just a mystery, but a tantalizing one.

The fellow's back was toward the light; since the elevator was dark, it was impossible to distinguish his features. When he helped The Shadow carry the boxes to an open apartment, the bulky objects came in front of the man's face. Since the apartment was dark, too, the features of this silent companion remained as concealed as The Shadow's own.

The fact pleased The Shadow. The less people who saw Burbank, the better - Voice of Death

For example, we do know where Burbank's name comes from, and potentially his first name. In both “The Shadow Laughs” and “The Case Of Congressman Coyd,” Burbank is referred to as “Mr. Burbank,” which indicates it's a last name. In The Death Giver, Burbank hands Harry a business card

At three fifteen, the stenographer entered and tendered Harry a card. It bore the name:

L. BURBANK MOTION PICTURE OPERATOR

A later story specifically namedrops famous horticulturist Luther Burbank, and according to Will Murray, Walter Gibson did confirm to him personally that Burbank was named after Luther Burbank.

We know Burbank's main feature is that he's "quiet-faced" with a "soft, even-toned voice", and that characters can recognize Burbank by his voice even when his face is obscured, but his look isn't consistent. His sole appearence in a cover comes from The Lone Tiger, where he seems to be past his fifties and being semi-bald, but it's not how he looks in Edd Cartier's illustration where he's got a hairdo. Both seem to be somewhat based on Dr David Burbank, the New Hampshire dentist who founded the city. He's been said to be at least 40 once, and this in itself is at odds with some descriptions that place Burbank as younger than The Shadow and describe him as "a young man with a solemn look", which is more in line with how he tends to be depicted in comics, particularly the blonde man with the eyepiece designed by Michael Kaluta.

We know he was officially introduced after Harry Vincent and Claude Fellows, but that apparently he's known The Shadow for quite a while, as he (as Cranston) refers to Burbank as "an old friend" in his introduction (is he an old friend of Cranston as well?). Robert Sampson speculated that the two met in 1924 at a radio station, where as Rick Lai speculates that Burbank may have been recruited in an unrecorded adventure in Rio de Janeiro, mentioned in Gypsy Vengeance, that took place between the first and second novels.

We know that Burbank is at a rather unique position among the agents because he is maybe the most important figure in The Shadow's network, the main keeper of The Shadow's secrets, the one entrusted to run the organization on The Shadow's absence, the only one who can directly reach The Shadow in the Sanctum, and if anyone knows anything about whatever secrets there are in The Shadow's past, it's definitely him, but he's also the one we know the least about as a person, and contrary to the other agents, Burbank is often described in mechanized terms, which gives him a rather inhuman aura somewhat different than that of The Shadow's.

In a sense, Burbank was the mainspring of the machinery that The Shadow used in his warfare against crime.

As contact man, he kept in touch with all the active agents; there were times when he actually ran things, during The Shadow's absence. Tonight was one of those rare occasions when Burbank was needed on active duty.

Nevertheless, the human cogwheel had connected up a switchboard and had a short−wave radio set handy, so that he could continue his contact duties from this empty apartment - Voice of Death

When emergency demanded, Burbank served as he now was serving. Instead of making calls to the deserted sanctum, he was issuing orders in The Shadow's stead. - The Key

Everytime Burbank gets any sort of spotlight, we learn a little more about him, who he is, what he can't and can do. His methods, what he does to spend the time, some of the things he does for The Shadow outside of communications like planting recording devices in criminal hide-outs and devising or managing electrical devices and The Shadow's advanced technology (even if he doesn't fully understand it).

"Burbank began his own attempt to scale the wall. Ordinarily, his clutches would have been inadequate, and his toe holds were uncertain. But the wire was drawing upward under The Shadow's haul. It gave the needed support whenever Burbank floundered. The Shadow could actually sense his agent's progress by the varying strain upon the wire. At last, Burbank flopped over the roof edge like a landed fish" - Masters of Death

There were remarkable devices here. Burbank understood some of them, but the millionaire alone was familiar with all the equipment - Eyes of The Shadow

“To Burbank, long, lone vigils were nothing. He was not a man of action; he was one of endurance. Prompt, precise and always dependable, Burbank had served The Shadow well.“ - The Key

During his long hours of duty, he resorted to one methodical habit as he bided away the time. He always had a supply of chewing gum.” - The Killer

Burbank leaned back in his chair. His position was one of patient relaxation. While he awaited new telephone calls, his attitude was one of complete passivity. There was nothing excitable in the make-up of this man who sat with his back toward the light. Yet Burbank was a man of amazing endurance. In place of action, he exercised untiring vigilance. It was this quality that made him a most important factor in the affairs of that amazing personage known as The Shadow - The Killer

Burbank is, at once, the barrier between the agents (and by extension, us) and The Shadow, as well as the bridge that allows the agents (and us) to find and reach The Shadow.

And I do like it that Burbank's specifically said to not be cut for action, that he's not really a fighter or a marksman or even a super tech genius, on paper he's really just a guy who sits in a chair all day fiddling with radio equipment. But he is still cool and impressive by the standards of what matters most in The Shadow's world. He's patient and resourceful and vigilant and clever and trustworthy, and he's someone that The Shadow trusts more so than anyone else.

There was no sound of the door closing; no sound, indeed, to indicate that any person had moved in that direction. Yet Burbank knew, from experience, that his master, The Shadow, had departed, after giving him the sign that his vigil was ended.

Such word usually came from The Shadow’s sanctum. Tonight, being in the vicinity of Burbank’s present station, The Shadow had preferred to give his faithful agent fifteen or twenty minutes of extra respite by visiting him in person

Such was the way of The Shadow. Though none of his trusted operatives had ever seen his undisguised face; though his ways and actions were secret and mysterious to them; they received constant signs of The Shadow’s appreciation of their reliable cooperation - Death Triangle

In Suite 808, a figure was seated in front of the writing table. It was The Shadow, in his guise as Arnaud; Burbank was off duty, asleep in the other room.

The telephone buzzed; The Shadow answered it. He spoke in a quiet, methodical tone, a perfect imitation of Burbank's voice. Harry Vincent reported - The Case of Congressman Coyd

On one hand, I don't think the "mystery" of Burbank is ever going to be ruined, or should be ruined. But on the other hand, I definitely think there's a lot of room to explore more regarding what exactly is he as a person, as an agent, what kind of roles he plays, what is his connection to The Shadow or what relationship he has with other agents or other people he's meant to be in more direct contact with. I think it's a matter of balance.

There's a lot of room to work with particularly regarding how you could adapt Burbank into adaptations set in different time periods (not necessarily modern day), because with how communication technology had advanced beyond imagination, there's a lot of ways you could adapt or recontextualize Burbank, The Shadow's social network.

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 12th of April, 2021

This is speculation only

Cards drawn 11th of April, 2021

Question: What do we need to know about Prince Philip's funeral?

Interpretation: Harry and Meghan and their shenanigans, when the funeral is supposed to be about Prince Philip and only about Prince Philip.

Card One: The Knight of Swords. This is the card of an air sign person, particularly a Gemini. In this spread it stands for Prince Philip and all that his life represents. The funeral is reminding the world about the values that Prince Philip embodied - honour, dignity, service, the ability to keep information to yourself, the ability to keep your private life private, to be able to put others ahead of yourself with dignity and grace, to protect what is important to you, creating a legacy that lives after you, etc. This is Prince Philip's funeral and it should be all about him.

Card Two: The Nine of Pentacles. This is a card about money, wealth, material goods. Here we see Daedalus, the craftsman, standing over a pile of gold that is the result of his hard work. The money represents both financial security for the future and the result of honing and practising his craft in the past. The pile of gold is standing out to me, so this card is all about money. Coming after the Prince Philip card, it is about Prince Philip's money/estate - the money and goods that he leaves to his wife, children, friends etc.

With Harry as the underlying card (see below), this says that Harry is concerned about his inheritance from Prince Philip. He is expecting a lot of money, as represented by the large pile of gold on the card. The Moon card coming after this card, on top of the Harry (and his guilt) card in the spread, tells me that there could be and probably will be some illusion or deception about the amount of money Harry will inherit from Prince Philip. It may not be the huge amount that he expects. It may be that there will be PR articles about how much Harry inherited, and they turn later to have grossly over estimated the amount. It may be that Harry will try to use emotional manipulation/deceit to get more money from the inheritance than that amount to which he is entitled. It may be all of these and other forms of deception/illusion/deceit.

Nothing is going to be as it appears when it comes to Harry and his inheritance from Prince Philip. Do not believe the articles that will come out. Do not be upset by them. Remember this and wait for the truth to emerge over time.

Card Three: The Moon. This is the central card of the spread and the only major arcana card in the spread, so its energy is very important. The energy of the Moon card here is one of deceit, distortions of truth, illusions, and perhaps outright lies. Nothing is as it appears on the surface, especially when it involves Prince Harry (the underlying energy of the spread), and you have to dig deeper to find the truth. The truth of these illusions will almost certainly be cloaked with secrets and/or hidden in the shadows (for example, the article that said Prince Harry wanted to wear military uniform at the funeral - I can find articles discussing this, I can find articles giving the opinions of people on whether it will happen or not, but I can not find the article that said Prince Harry asked to wear military uniform - it has vanished like moonbeams in the light of day). These deceptions will be particularly strong around Prince Philip's inheritance (the Nine of Pentacles) and Harry's past (the Six of Cups).

Card Four: The Six of Cups. This is a card of the past, of looking over the past, and sometimes of childhood. On the card Psyche sits on the rocks, remembering her past life with her husband and drawing strength from it for the future. In this spread, this card is a card about the past. The funeral of Prince Philip will (obviously) be about his past and his life. Here, with the underlying energy cards being about Prince Harry, it says that this is a card about Prince Harry's past, especially his past with Prince Philip. With the Meghan card ahead of it, this refers specifically to Harry's past when he was coupled with Meghan, and how they treated Prince Philip. With the Moon card behind it, expect deceptions, illusions, secrets etc around this past. The past may be re-written to show a different version of Harry and Meghan's relationship with Prince Philip, with any actions that reflect badly on the couple being re-written to show them in a better light. Harry may also use his past with the BRF as part of his deception/illusion/manipulations to get more money from Prince Philip's inheritance, or to soften the impact of his past actions towards his grandfather (for example - 'they treated Harry so badly and he still went back to the funeral as a respectful grandson' - that sort of distortion of the truth).

As with the question of Prince Philip's estate, nothing is going to be as it appears when it comes to Harry and how his past is portrayed with Prince Philip and the BRF. Do not believe the articles that will come out. Do not be upset by them. You know the truth, and all the distortions of the truth in the articles can not change what actually happened.

Card Five: The King of Wands. This is a fire sign person, particularly a Leo, and in this spread it stands for Meghan. It is at the opposite end of the spread from the Prince Philip card, and this indicates that Meghan's values are directly opposed to those of Prince Philip. Instead of the funeral being about him, she wants to make it all about her. The card of the past/childhood (the Six of Cups) appearing before this card indicates that Meghan may do something about her unborn child or her first child to pull the attention back to her, and/or release PR about them in some way to try and get attention. She may also release PR combining the past with the present, the most obvious example being articles comparing Harry walking behind his mother's coffin (the past, child) to Harry walking behind his grandfather's coffin (the present), especially if she can twist this to suit her victim narrative (for example, he was forced to walk behind his mother's coffin and now the mean BRF wouldn't let him wear a military uniform for his grandfathers, despite him being on active service during his years in the army, the only one of the BRF to do so - the lies and distortions of truth in this example are what the Moon card represents in the spread).

Underlying Energy Card One: The Knight of Pentacles. This is an earth sign person, particularly a Virgo, and in this spread the card stands for Prince Harry. He is the energy underneath everything else in this spread, and he is the major concern as people prepare for the funeral.

We know that the other members of the BRF will behave at the funeral, follow HM the Queen's wishes, and ask only to grieve in private for a short time before returning to their duties. We have no such reassurance about Prince Harry, who has already shown that he will go against the express wishes of the widow, HM the Queen, in his quest for attention and PR that he can use to make money (he showed this when he and Meghan put up a cold and heartless tribute to Prince Philip on their website when HM the Queen had said that nothing would be said by the Royal Family, and everyone else just had copies of the tribute from Buckingham Palace).

Underlying Energy Card Two: The Nine of Swords. This card shows Orestes tormented by the Furies after he killed his mother. They pursued him wherever he want, and he could not escape them. Similarly, Harry's thoughts are tormenting him. He is plagued by thoughts of how he treated his family (who he is returning to face at the funeral), how he treated his grandmother, who his grandfather spent his life protecting and supporting (putting up that heartless 'service' statement after the Queen has said no member of the family was to speak out is the latest in a long line of disrespectful actions that have caused her stress and worry), and how he treated his grandfather (the Oprah interview while Prince Philip was in his last days on this earth and blowing off an important event for the Royal Marines, a position he inherited from his grandfather, to attend a movie premiere are two incidents that come to mind). He feels guilty.

The Moon card above this card and the Knight of Pentacles (Harry) card says that Harry is not only involved with deception around the funeral, but he is also deceiving himself. He feels guilty, but he is not yet ready to admit to himself that his actions caused hurt to others, and so he lives in a constant state of uneasy and defensive self justification.

Harry can not escape these thoughts and they are causing him stress and sleepless nights. The thoughts keep coming up in his mind (like the swords pointed at Orestes in the picture) and every time he has to justify his actions to himself. It is in this state of mind, stressed, defensive, and self-justifying, that Harry is attending the funeral.

I am not saying that Harry is not grieving his grandfather, just that the energy coming from the card is stress, guilt and the self-justification of someone who knows they have behaved badly but are not ready to admit it. These feelings are most likely powered by grief at losing his grandfather, and that is why they are so constant and so strong.

Arrangement of the Cards: Look at how the spread is arranged. Prince Philip is at one end and Meghan at the other, with Harry (and the Nine of Swords, his guilty feelings) as the balancing point underneath the five cards. This says to me that there is a range of energy between that embodied by Prince Philip (service, duty, putting yourself last) and that embodied by Meghan (putting yourself first and only you, no conception of duty or service), and at this point of time Harry is standing precisely at the middle of these energies, in fact he may even be torn between them. He may turn back towards the Prince Philip side, or he may turn towards the Meghan side, but at this time he is balanced in the middle. The Moon card is directly above Harry, indicating that there will be some sort of deception(s) or illusion(s) about his presence/behaviour at the funeral, and/or that he will use the funeral as a cover for other behaviour, and/or as a way of getting what he wants. The cards on either side of the Moon card show what will be involved in and/or the reason for this deception/illusion: Money (the Nine of Pentacles) and Childhood/Children/the Past (The Six of Cups).

Conclusion: This funeral is meant to be all about Prince Philip, but Meghan wants to make it all about her. Harry is in the middle, and he is tormented by his past actions with respect to his grandfather, actions that he has to keep justifying to himself. The Moon card says that there is so much illusion and deceit going on on, both in Harry not being honest with himself (deceiving himself about his intentions/motives/how others react to him/being self justifying etc) and in Harry's actions at the funeral, especially in regard to his inheritance from Prince Philip, and in regard to his past, especially his past actions towards his grandfather. Harry may be using deceit/illusions/emotional blackmail based on his childhood to try and get the money he thinks he deserves.

[silkylious]

assign your moots mbti!

OOH this will be fun omggg nonnie ur brain >>> i'm only gonna do the ones i'm decently certain about ajskxk but mutuals who weren't included feel free to send me an ask!

@belsumu -> enfp: obvious dominant Ne is obvious. expansively intuitive line of thinking, very good at drawing abstract connections. honestly the absurd sense of humor is a tell-tale sign on its own 💀 followed by a judging axis of Fi-Te. morally driven, focused on internal feelings rather than external atmosphere, a tad emotional. straight forward and efficiency driven due to tertiary Te. inferior Si makes you unstructured, prone to procrastination and spontaneity, you probably have problems seeing things through to the end

@akirine -> entj: dominant Te is so obvious 😭 straight forward, blunt, efficient. values pragmatism over wasting time on accuracy. Ni-Se perceiving axis, intuitive line of thinking, able to draw conclusions easily and settle on them. tertiary Se is also pretty evident. seems very physically active, has a natural eye for aesthetics, keen on experiencing new things. (once saw u post something along the lines of "i actually like being put in difficult situations" i've never read a more entj thing in my entire life 💀) inferior Fi causes a disconnect with one's own feelings, you might have issues properly expressing your more vulnerable feelings.

@dollops-of-delusion -> intp: dominant Ti and auxiliary Ne are clear as day. very attentive to accuracy and precision paired with an expansive line of thinking. enjoying linguistics and wordplay and exploring the itty-bitty details in language, and combining that to create abstract new connections or jokes was a dead giveaway to me. tertiary Si make you decently structured and reliant on past-experience. inferior Fe causes issues with connecting with the feelings of others, so like maybe an inability to read the room sometimes (though i think your Fe is actually quite developed lusy :o)

yeah that's enough for now i can't think of anyone else that i'm certain of their type 💀

[jaeminzie]

each time you fall in love | h.rj - teaser

↳ huang renjun x fem!reader

synopsis: the moments of what it seemed like the love you gave him is something renjun would never deem to forget. without it, he’s become the type of person he’s ridiculed in the past. though thanks to you, he’s learned that the past is the past and shit happens.

genre: angst, fluff, college au

teaser word count: 1,375 expected word count: 10-15k

warnings: cursing, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, one sex scene but no explicit smut (more to add later on)

playlist: ‘real games’ by lucky daye ☆ ‘each time you fall in love’ by cigarettes after sex ☆ (more to add later on)

a/n: a belated birthday fic for renjun :,] i’ve been waiting for the right time to write a long and angsty fic and i think now is the perfect time aaaa i’m so excited to write again ! for now, enjoy a little snippet ♡

i. each time you fall in love

renjun was confused as to why he was standing between sweaty bodies of frat boys when he could be laying down in his own clean sheets while binge watching a new show. but no, his best friend just had to quite literally physically drag him to this party. jaemin has been pestering renjun into accompanying him to a frat party so renjun can finally “get some.” while in reality, the only “some” renjun is in need of is a break, and attending a boring college party only to be pushed around by intoxicated, tall, and freakishly meaty boys isn't the break he was quite fond of.

the short boy has been on his tippy toes in an attempt to look for his friend who forced him here (apparently only to ditch him) in the sea of people. as his toes begin to cramp, renjun gives up and marches his way to the backyard. the wrinkles on his forehead begin to soothe as he feels the cold air relief his slightly sweaty forehead.

he observes the area around him — people out here were dancing more appropriately than those inside, the music was calmer too. he thinks the dimly lit backyard sets the mood well, complimenting the chill rnb music playing in the back. though, the calmness came to a halt when he heard the infamous loud voice of donghyuck calling his name from the side of the area.

renjun smiles at the him and jeno who was standing right beside donghyuck, feeling relieved that he will no longer look like a stupid loner since he’s found a few friends. as he came closer to them, the acrid smell of their cigarettes became more prevalent.

“didn’t take you as a party guy, injunie.” donghyuck nudges him with his shoulder as renjun finds place in between the two, resting his back against the fence.

“that’s because i’m not.”

jeno chuckles at his response, “so jaemin finally succeeded.” renjun huffs. “well, at least enjoy it now that you’re here.”

donghyuck made a noise of agreement. “and you guys consider smoking in the corner fun?” renjun eyes the boys, obviously joking with them but was also curious if they genuinely find pleasure in welcoming those toxins into their system.

“apparently you, a prude, think being a virgin is fun. but i guess we all have different definitions of fun, huh?” donghyuck teases before taking another hit, releasing the smoke and polluting the air.

renjun blinks repeatedly to moisten his burning eyes, “yeah, i expect that same attitude from you when you need an inhaler every five seconds. that’s the only thing you’ll ever hit then.”

jeno coughs out smoke as he laughs at the remark, “you’ve done pissed him off, hyuck. here — take a hit, it’ll feel better.” jeno places the cigarette in front of renjun’s face and winks at him.

renjun mockingly smiles at the taller boy before rolling his eyes and heartily laughing at the banter between him and his good friends.

the boy observes how the smoke leaves the tip of the cigarette to form patterns in the air, creating an infinite amount of stems and designs. like a camera lens, his focus on the killing object in front of him blurs and readjusts on a dancing figure directly behind the cigarette from afar.

jeno slowly drops his hand down as he sees his friend’s gaze shift to another hazardous object — a girl. specifically, you. “you know her?”

renjun thinks about his answer, because you guys don’t know each other personally nor have even talked to one another but he does know of you but he doesn’t want to sound like a creep. saving himself from more insults, he shakes his head. “maybe i should, though.”

not that he pays attention but he’s seen you at a couple of his classes last semester, but sadly none this semester. he remembers how you’d always come in late, but not too late. just late enough for everyone to stop what they’re doing and watch you walk down to your seat. or maybe that was just a natural effect of yours that you hold on people. i mean, renjun didn’t miss the way you put thought into your outfit for every class even if it was a boring lecture. hell, you could show up to class hungover and in pajamas (which you’ve done before a shameful amount of times) and still catch everyone’s attention.

renjun has a pair of functioning eyes so he is very aware of your charming looks. tonight was different, though. you danced confidently right in the center of the grass, with a drink in your hands that hasn’t spilled once thanks to your graceful mannerisms. with the fairy lights hitting your skin, making you glow underneath the dark sky, renjun thought you couldn’t get any prettier.

he was about to inform his friends that he’ll be getting a drink, but noticed that the two boys had already left his side. he cowered at the thought of him just standing there alone with nothing and no one to accompany him while he shamelessly stared at you. making the churning feeling in stomach worsen, your gaze meets his while you continue to dance to the sensual music.

you shot a smile first, renjun immediately gives you one back as he straightens his posture. renjun sees you giggle at his actions then whisper something in your friend’s ear, simultaneously handing your drink to her, to which she pushed you toward his direction and gently patted your bottom.

renjun wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol taking control or you were just this bold, strutting your way toward him — a boy who you don’t even know.

you halt your steps when you stand in front of him, getting a clear view of his pretty face. “you seem a bit lonely.”

renjun gulps, collecting his confidence. “just a bit.”

“want some company then?”

renjun smiles genuinely at your offer. “i would love that actually.” he stares at your features, admiring the dots on your face that would resemble star constellations if someone were to draw lines to connect them. “i’m renjun.” he was smart enough to wipe his hands discreetly behind him before putting them out.

“nice to meet you, renjun. i’m y/n.” you took his hand and shook it lightly. “i think i’ve seen you in one of my classes before? i might be wrong.” you tilt your head slightly. renjun almost melts at the sight.

he smiles before nodding, eyes shining. “yeah, i’m shocked you remember. i don’t usually talk during class.” he laughs. it seems that every time he smiles, your palms become sweatier and your neck’s temperature increases.

“don’t worry, pretty boys like you don’t need to do much to catch yourself some attention.”

renjun laughs nervously at the compliment, fiddling with the ends of his oversized jacket. “you're the one to talk but thank you.” his eyes twinkled as he spoke, the moonlight hitting the highest points of his face precisely. “you wanna go sit over there?” he points to the chairs near your standing figures. you nodded and began to walk your way toward the spot with renjun following suit.

renjun wasn’t sure how it happened. how the night turned from arguing with jaemin over a pointless party to now — not wanting to leave the damn place. how he was able to maintain a real conversation with you, not some excruciatingly boring small talk that neither party enjoys. he learned much about your character and questioned how much more perfect you can be. on the other hand, you learned that renjun makes pleasant company as he eased through the night talking to you about anything. he made any topic worth listening to if he was the one doing the talking.

as he drove home with a drunk jaemin snoring beside him in the passenger seat, he realized that, for once, renjun was thankful that his best friend is the most stubborn person in the planet and made him go to that stupid frat party.

because now, you’ve got him in your hands and he was completely okay with that.