#good we have time of our lives here :3c

[listleven]

Using LOA with love

(and pateince+persistence)

FIRST BLOG!

Hi LOA Tumblr! I am frankly new to this community but have seen enough to know over consuming is not what I should be doing. Im here to show my journey in manifesting my ideal reality, using the list method, SAT's, and whatever else I can say I might use meditations but I don't know yet(I have a invasive family, I dont want them to catch me doing that 😭) I will post what subs I will use. Most of all I know I have it now soooo. Ive seen enough of post's yelling at me bc Im paying attention to the 3d or telling me once again about LOA. Im still in a partial learning faze so I might use this blog to ask questions, but mostly Im going to start applying and this blog is for everyone who is as well. Basically for reminding everyone we are in our desired realities/have our desires! I've had loads of success with LOA so it is real and very much inevitable. Anyway here are some stuff in my list of everything in my ideal life (which is from now on my actual life) I will be posting the results but technically I already have it so yeah.

-I never study for anything but when I get a test or question on it I answer correctly without fail

-I always get straight As

-I only affirm once to manifest instantly

-I am the void every time I count down from 5

-My 3c hair looks exactly like the Pinterest curly hair, even though I don't put any effort into it, I literally just wash my hair and leave it alone, its so easy to do.

-Every godsend beautiful fanfic I've read in AO3 that's been left unfinished now has an ending and its so good 😩

-I can speak, read, write any language I want perfectly

-I shift instantly with just one affirmation

-Im really good at dancing and singing

-I don't have to use the toilet anymore (its so annoying ill drink one glass of water and boom)

-My favorite show isn't poorly written and is actually really good (guess which one, It really has so much potential and its actually my biggest object of love I have to save it )

Besides my hair being effortlessly good Im not touching my physical appearance bc Ive always been very pretty and skinny but that doesn't mean its "harder" to manifest and if you want to go for it its your reality you deserve to feel good about yourself. Up till now my life has been messed up by older men, my mom, school, and religion but no more of that! Now I have everything in my list and I'm living my most ideal life! Feel free to send asks and DM me to vent or whatever. IK a lot of people don't like that but I personally find it easier to talk to online strangers and dont mind at all.

Im also very curios about lucid dreaming I might update on that too, idk ksksk, Anyway,

~ With Love, you can call me, Jyspire

[lorelune]

part o - part iii

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

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

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

minors & ageless blogs dni

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

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

...

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

PART o: kismet

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did the gods mosaic the sky? 

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

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

(Could you have stopped your calamity?)

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

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

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

One foot in front of the other.

PART i: there’s a puzzle we crafted

You’re tired. 

So tired. 

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

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

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

So, you keep going.  

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

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

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

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

You’re back in Mond, aren’t you?

Archons.

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

Two things hit you then:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hate that Mondstadt seemed like the best option. 

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

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

You’ll just stay for a day or two.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turn slowly. “... Hi, Lisa.”

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, the lack of letters.

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

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

Lisa is partially correct, you suppose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Plans’. 

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps.”

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

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

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

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

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

...

You lose track of time, talking to Lisa. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hand it to her. “Be my guest.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Managed.’

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

Your gut drops to the floor and your shoulders stiffen. 

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

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

Jean’s eyes widen.

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

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

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

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

...

The commotion in the library brings other visitors.

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

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

Kaeya.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck— 

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

Then, Kaeya sees you. 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s tempting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I... I really shouldn’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ache. 

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

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

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

You consider. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I—”

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

“Wait—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... Really?”

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

You pick at the skin around your nails. 

“I’ll think about it.”

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It’s getting worse, isn’t it?)

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

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

...

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

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

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

You hesitate outside of Angel’s share.

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

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

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

You enter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the night’s still young.

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

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

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

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

You let her tug you through the crowd.

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

You gulp half the glass down, greedily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are still ghosts in the corners.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loosen up, whether you want to or not. 

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

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

So, you dance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lay your forehead on the bartop. 

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

You grumble something unintelligible. 

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

(You can regret it in the morning.)

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think I’m unreliable?” 

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

You know that voice.

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

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

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

The glass slips from his hands and shatters.

PART iii: the World (born)

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

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

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

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

You like fireflies.

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

Crepus introduces you. Kaeya. Diluc.

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

You think he’s lovely.

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” You ask.

“I’ll make sure you never have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

You don’t travel well, you never have. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

You leave, a few days later, still sick. 

You return, several months later, still sick.

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

Crepus doesn’t look convinced. 

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diluc scoffs, “They don’t like me—”

“They like you plenty—” 

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

...

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

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

(Forget. Forget. Forget.)

...

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

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

PART iii: the stitch the wound the burning

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

You hate him. 

“Fuck you,”  you snap. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You curse and shake. 

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

You certainly have.

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

(To be far away from here.)

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

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

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

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

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

You breathe his name right back.

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

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

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

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

You bristle.

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

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

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

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

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

(And it’s like coming home.)

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

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

“Bastard,” you spit. 

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

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

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

You scowl, “I realize that now.”

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

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

“Clearly.”

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

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

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

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

You turn away, going to reach for your tent—

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

“You didn’t.”

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

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

“Come back to the winery.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

“... She still works for you?”

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

“Elzer too?” You ask.

“Yes, he’s been at my side since—”

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

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

Archons, you miss them. 

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

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

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

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

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

You walk side by side back to Dawn Winery.

...

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

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

You blame the wine. 

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

The lock was replaced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adelinde breaks you from your stupor. 

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

Your chest tightens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“T-That sounds nice. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

Archons, you’re tired.

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

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

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

(Fuck, maybe you even need it.)  

...

You sleep for three days. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(He’s not a specter.)

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

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

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

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

(You wish it was more avoidable.)

You freeze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“... That’s it?” She asks. 

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

“... Nothing else?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Diluc, however—

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

Diluc stares at you like he could immolate you alive.

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

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

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

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

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

“I will.” 

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah—

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

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

You both shift uncomfortably. 

“I see.” 

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

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

(You never thought you would have to.) 

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

“Are you suggesting I simply ignore you?”

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

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

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

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

“If that’s what you wish, then yes.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s the truth. As I said—“

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

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

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

“Do you think this is unbearable for me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing to say?”

“It was a long time ago—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t lie to me.” 

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

(You don’t.)

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

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

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

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

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

[coff-in]

heyhey!! may i req ashley with a fem reader? i may ramble here so please bear with me (reader and ashley are the same age)

reader and ashley were basically childhood friends, reader being the only person to actually give ashley a chance to actually be her friend rather than befriend her to try to get to andrew (which ashley was very wary of reader right from the get-go)

reader is basically known for being perfect and even "pure" by her peers back in highschool (and being a part of student council is no help) mostly due to her mother forcing her to excel and reader never really having much of an identity because of it

so it would be pretty scandalous for rumors of reader and ashley dating to go out, right? well, ashley fuels those rumors meanwhile reader tries to shut them down because reader isn't even out when it comes to liking girls

reader's mother is pretty disapproving of reader's and ashley's friend/relationship but the two usually sneak around to hang out anyways, mostly ashley

in the current game setting, reader is quarantined with the graves siblings since at that point, her mother stopped caring and viewed her daughter as a lost cause and is practically an accomplice in everything that happened

of course, with the quarantine, ashley and reader have gotten closer than ever before to the point that reader is questioning herself and her attraction to ashley

the relationship will be relatively toxic especially with reader likely being more of a doormat than andrew (somehow) and ashley's nature in isolating reader from friends and even her peers in general

notes from coff-in: this is actually such a cool idea, 'nonnie! i don't know to like, add on to this because it's just... it's so fucking good. you really cooked here :D still i tried my best, please enjoy!

[fem] reader-insert, homophobia(?)

holy shit, i think leyley would actually be so happy if [reader] actually came over to celebrate her birthday. even if [reader] wasn't able to bring her a gift, just her showing up to say "happy birthday, leyley!" would cause leyley to break out into a huge adorable smile!! the fact that [reader] actually takes the time and makes the effort to be there for leyley would make her like [reader]. [reader] is there for her, she likes to be friends with her. even having her sneak out of the house to hang out with ashley is so heart touching to her and enforces the idea that [reader] likes her. it also builds up that attachment to [reader] in ashley character.

i'm not too entirely sure how people in the neighborhood the graves' lived at react to gay people but... i'm sure it would be some sort of struggle being "outed" as gay when you yourself aren't even sure if you're gay or not. [reader] would definitely panic when ashley teases her about the rumors. "didn't you hear about them? everyone's talking about us~ about our relationship~"

"what?! what no! ashley, they can't-- they're lying!! we're not dating-- i don't even--"

"you don't what, [reader]? you don't like me? aren't we friends?? you're MY friend!!" omg the back and fourth the two go through of ashley pushing the boundaries of their relationship and [reader] calming her down after she (purposely) misconstrues her words turning ashley down. and it's so hard trying to dispel the rumors because yeah, they always hang out with each other (because ashley gets mad when [reader] tries to hang out with other people) and yeah, [reader] doesn't have many other friends outside of ashley (because ashley doesn't like to share :3c) AND NO, SHE'S NOT JUST FRIENDS WITH ASHLEY TO GET TO ANDREW!!

and GOD ONCE [READER]'S MOTHER FINDS OUT???? ashley knows all about shitty mothers, this is just another factor that she could use to keep [reader] close. it's an aspect that they can bond over!! they're both disappointing daughters to their mothers... kinda romantic, isn't it? it's like the only other that can relate is right next to them huh? (ashley's giving her smug bedroom eyes to [reader] while [reader] is like "haha... ha yeah, so true ashley canwetalkabout somethingelse?") THIS CONFLATES OR LIKE COMBINES WHEN THE QUARANTINE HAPPENS LIKE "WOWIE YOUR MOM DOESN'T WANT SHIT TO DO WITH YOU EITHER!!! we should kiss rn"

biggest question i have is whether or not andrew would like it or not? he's used to being ashley's rock, her anchor, the only one who loves her. and now [reader] comes along and... well, not steals her but makes her less reliant on andrew. ashley's always going to andy so it's not like andrew's leaving her (not like he wants to do so either) but there must be some tension or competition between him and [reader]. especially since [reader]'s taking his spot as "doormat extraordinaire" like bro!!! what the fuck!!! honestly such a fun idea to explore.

[reader] has nothing left but ashley. ashley drove away her friends in middle/high school, her mother abandoned her due to rumors of her dating ashley, and now she's stuck with ashley (and andrew) for three months. no one is calling the phone to talk to her, no one is trying to break her out, and no one is missing her. it's only [reader] and ashley (and andrew)

fucking love this idea, come here. let me kiss that wonderful brain of yours 'nonnie. MWAH MWAH MWAH!!!

----

coff-in

[gubbles-owo]

okay fuckit, gather 'round: it's gubbles' storytime. girl's band cry hyperfixation be damned, it's bringing up so many Things in my heart. i say i've never performed live onstage, but that's not entirely true. while a far shot from actually taking part in a band and playing a show, allow me to tell you the tale of the closest I ever got to that: a random session at jamspace, pax east, 2016.

.......... senior year of college, i was brought onboard with another group of students who had not only completed a game demo for a class project, but wanted to take it further. a lil VR game, simple in concept and clean in execution, i was invited to do music and audio for it. (i was, of course, the sole game audio/music-focused student on campus, as my school's gamedev program didn't really have a dedicated audio designer track). ultimately it fizzled out and not much came of it, but for a good chunk of time it was everything. our future ambitions, something to carry us forth from graduation on into the industry, to cement our own little foothold in the vast world of game development. we took the train to boston so many times, showed off our game at SO MANY local events, hell i had never known how to navigate a complex subway system, and here we were sifting through every few weeks or so. it was a wild fucking time, and honestly? i wish i could experience it again. something about the weaving of fantastical future prospects with the tangible, corporeal experience of it all. once foreign subway systems, sprawling in a subterranean web of concrete and metal, the sidewalks of city streets lit by the glow of the city, now strangely familiar in such a short span of time... *ahem* right, where was i... right, pax east. our school provided a limited number of booths for teams to show off their projects at pax east, and being one of the big promising projects stirring up on campus, we were granted a spot. (actually i had TWO spots because two separate projects/teams i took part in got accepted, so i had to pull double duty for a lot of it LMFAO). i've been to pax before, but as a fan and attendee, not as a developer. so this was an entirely new experience... ...and that experience was having the booth you sit at all day right next to the massive league of legends (ew) stage!! they blasted music constantly! half of it was just percussion loops from Heavyocity's Damage, and i know because I RECOGNIZED THOSE PERCUSSION SOUNDS and even USED SOME OF THEM IN THE PROJECT I WAS WORKING ON. see, the convention floor is loud. like. incredibly fucking loud. it's one thing if you're walking around as a fan, you've got other talks in siderooms to go to, and you can always step out and get some fresh air if you're feeling overwhelmed. but ya can't do that when you're on shift to demo your game to con attendees for the next several hours, can ya? :3c so yeah, long story short, i got sick. real fuckin sick. i had to YELL over the din of the convention the entire time, and after just one day, i had already lost my voice. and i mean COMPLETELY LOST MY VOICE. i could not speak, only painfully croak. i had to resort to crude hand gestures and typing shit on my phone to communicate. it was rooouughhh. and after bringing this up with my teammates, they agreed to cover my shifts, and let me rest. because the con was so fucking loud, and i was still stuck there sick all day, i informed my team that i would be headed to the jamspace room to pick up earplugs. and by "earplugs" i mean. haha well. lets justr say. a bass guitar. (srry for screenshot but tumblr hated this paragraph for some reason and kept blocking the post):

i was sick as fuck, and for sake of my health, should probably not have pushed myself. HOWEVER. i would NOT i repeat *NOT* let this sole opportunity to slip me by... i've always wanted to perform with other musicians, so fuck it, i am doing this. so the next twelve minutes i shuffled my sickly ass alll the way around to the room at the very end of the hall. i had taken note of the open-stage timeslots the day prior. i had one hour to do this shit. one hour to make the dream come true. i cannot describe the nervousness i felt going into that whole thing. i lied to my teammates. i couldn't speak. a dark room with a little clipboard to fill out a timeslot and instrument, and an empty, brightly lit stage on the other side of it. but i shuffled stage right, strapped on this bass, and asked for a pick (because im a fake bassist). and. holy shit.

i had no voice, but with that bass strapped to me? i could make the entire room *shake*. and words cannot describe how utterly fucking powerful that felt.

a few other randos took up the other instruments. i don't remember much about them, only that they intimidated the HELL out of me. i had done like concert band in high school, i've jammed on instruments in my room, but this? this is something entirely different. we played through a couple tracks... they kept suggesting "hey how about x song from y band?" but my stupid-ass doesn't have a degree in classic rock like everyone else apparently does, so i shrugged and said i didn't know how to play it. we finally settled on the one song suggested that i was, at least passingly, familiar with... metallica's enter sandman lmfaO the "passingly" there is very important, because while i know the general flow and structure, i wasn't sure about the specifics. when we got to the first pre-chorus, i notice something had shifted, and i was no longer playing the right notes. i must've either sounded terrible or look visibly confused, because the guitarist to my left turned toward me, angled his fretboard to be clearly in view, and taught me how to play the riff while performing it onstage. and i did it!! i picked it up, just like that!! it was just the earlier bit but transposed up a few steps or smth, but god, just. that little moment right there? that quick moment of guidance mid-performance? holy fuck that is magical. the other awesome moment was somewhere in the bridge, like. okay. i could barely hear myself, as the guitars and vocals and cymbals right behind me were all incredibly loud (they didn't have earplugs btw lol). but i wasn't sure i was like, contributing much to the song? and while i admittedly improvised this bit, for the build up into the final chorus, i stopped playing. i let the guitar and the drums have their space. and slowly, quietly, high up on the fretboard, built back up until WHAM, i come back in full force with the chorus. IT WAS SO COOL. LIKE. the mix sounded so weak and thin without me, and the contrast of making the entire fucking room violently vibrate with the flick of my wrist on the downbeat? holy FUCK. IT'S MAGICAL. MAGIC IS REAL Y'ALL AND IT IS ONSTAGE. anyway yeah, played that song, some members swapped out but no one else was signed up for bass, so i stuck on for a lil longer. another guitarist taught me how to play one of the splatoon themes, and while it was fun, the drummer kept us both going on that one riff for a looot longer than we wanted to lmfao fun fact! none of my team knew i did this!! they probably would've been PISSED had they found out!! actually they stole my con pass on the third morning, which made sense cause they had someone else fill in for me at the booth, but none of it was communicated to me and i was piiiiised. wound up navigating the subway and trains back home, all by myself, for the first time. but YEAH it was AMAZING. it wasn't an established band playing a local show, it was just a bunch of randos fucking around. and god. i... i really want to be part of a band someday. i want to feel this again.

even if just for one show, for one song, for one moment... i need to feel the weight of the room underneath my fingertips.

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #11

We're reading PKNA #8: Silicon and I do not remember this story. That's about all I have to say beforehand oop.

How are you gonna IMMEDIATELY start the Donald Duck comic book with half naked women omfg what if my mom sees me reading this

I do find it funny that they're trying to get rid of Fangus when he was LITERALLY in New Zealand just last issue. Like sure he was there for work but he was still gone for some period of time, it's like he came home and they were like "ok now LEAVE" which like. yeah fair. it's Angus Fangus.

Never ask a Scottish person to say "purple burglar alarm"

He's so babygirl here in his pink shirt btw. or like purple idk purpleish pink shirt

As opposed to what Uno, artificial humor??? Bro I've seen AI write jokes and that shit is ASS don't even try

wait why the hell does Fangus have duck feet? kiwi feet don't look like that????

man not THIS asshole again. go home broke ass uno. you will never be him.

I'm not calling you a "good boy" PK that patrol wa- sorry.

I'mma be fr I'm more unnerved by these naked evronians than I thought I'd be. Also what's with the line dividing their torsos? It makes them look like they have a shirt and pants on which like.... DO they?????

I love when they fuck with Angus Fangus can we just keep gaslighting him forever please

I think there's something interesting to be said about the fact that Due is basically identical to Uno in every way, having only turned evil from being forced to lie dormant for years and unable to use his insane amount of intelligence and computing power. Like, if we locked Uno in an empty room for a decade would he have the same response? Is there a great capacity for evil lurking within that beautiful green orb of his??? Idk I'm not here to do a huge analysis, RIP bozo packwatch. I'm sure Due is gone for real this time.

shoutout to that one name that comes SO close to being matpat. also who the fuck is uncle sis

oh fuck. shit. fuck. not again. DAMMIT. HE LIVED. MAN. BOOOOOO

I don't have much to say in terms of reflection so I guess that wraps up this- oh my god wait a second, what's this??? There's still a few pages left? That's right folks, Looks like it's time for our first ever

🎊✨~ BONUS COMIC!!!! ~✨🎊

That's right bitch, PKNA has a bunch of little mini stories after the issues. Unfortunately the first series is focused on Angus Fangus </3 but HEY Trip is after this and I love Trip so we just have to stay strong and pull through ok. Trust.

New baby Angus Fangus just dropped. Punting this fucker into the sun.

Oh she's bad asf ok

GET A JOB STAY AWAY FROM HER

HELLO??? THAT'S SUCH A FUCKING DRASTIC TURN 😭

Actually you know what good on Vicious for backstabbing Fangus and stealing his award. That's what we call girlbossing your way to the top 💅 also like it's Angus Fangus who really cares

Ok see you next week :3c I miss Xadhoom

[cosmic-ships]

The Lines Of Duty

Characters: Mikal Reese & Nocturne Grayfire (SW Universe Fic!)

Words: 610 (Its smol~)

cw: gun mention? well… blaster but still…

Summary: Mikal has a decision to make.

Note* OC FIC! OC FIC! :3c It's like a B Plot in Kyden story(main story)

Okay to rb!

Mikal moved with purpose, heart pounding in his chest, his footsteps seemed heavier than before, His orders were clear: find and eliminate the spy…But it wasn’t just any spy… It was Nocturne—his friend, his confidant. Mikal's grip tightened around the blaster at his side as he turned a corner, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement.

He thought back to all the times he and Nocturne had spent together, unaware of the secret life his friend had led. They had shared stories, laughter, and moments of vulnerability. Now, that trust was shattered, replaced by a confusing mix of anger and sorrow.

A faint noise drew Mikal's attention to a small maintenance room. Cautiously, he approached the door and, with a deep breath, pushed it open. There, standing amidst a jumble of tools and equipment, was Nocturne, upon seeing his friend Nocturne stepped out.

"Mikal," Nocturne said, his voice heavy. "I figured they’d send someone. I just didn’t expect it to be you…"

Mikal’s blaster was already aimed at Nocturne's chest. "Why, Noct? Why betray us?" he demanded, his voice trembling.

Nocturne took a step forward, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "I never wanted to betray you, Mikal. You were my friend, like a brother I never had. But the First Order… it’s wrong. I couldn’t stand by and watch the atrocities…"

Mikal’s finger hovered over the trigger. "You lied to me. Everything was a lie."

"No," Nocturne pleaded, his green eyes searching Mikal’s. "Not everything. Our friendship was real, I promise it was, I never met a nicer soul in this damn place, everything is so cold and lifeless, but not you, you're different than everyone else here!"

Tears welled up in Mikal’s eyes, blurring his vision. "Then why didn't you tell me the truth!?"

"Because I couldn’t risk it," Nocturne answered, desperation creeping into his voice. "If they found out… if you had known and kept it a secret… and they found out… they would have killed you, Mikal."

Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. Mikal’s mind raced, torn between his duty and his heart. He thought of the camaraderie they had built, the times they had saved each other’s lives…the times they had confided in each other… Could he really kill Nocturne?

"I can’t do it," Mikal whispered, lowering his blaster. "I can’t kill you…"

Nocturne stepped forward, hope shining in his eyes. "Then come with me. Leave the First Order. You know it’s wrong, Mikal. You’ve always known… you're good, you're better than them, you know what's right in your heart-"

Mikal shook his head, tears threatening to fall. "I can’t. I have my orders. I have a duty."

"Damn your orders!" Nocturne shouted, his voice breaking. "There’s more to life than this, Mikal. There’s freedom and justice. We can fight for something better together! Come with me, please!"

Mikal’s hand trembled as he raised his blaster again, this time aiming at Nocturne’s feet. He gave a warning shot and Nocturne stepped back. "Go," Mikal said, his voice barely audible, holding a hint of defeat in his tone. "Just go before I change my mind…"

"Nocturne, please," Mikal's voice cracked. "Don’t make me do this."

Nocturne took another step back, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and understanding. "I’ll always believe in you, Mikal. One day, I hope you see the truth…When you do? You know where to find me. Goodbye, my friend…"

With that, Nocturne turned and ran, disappearing into the maze of the Star Destroyer’s corridors. Mikal stood there, the sound of his friend’s footsteps fading away, leaving him alone with his guilt and the weight of his decision.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

@michininja

:3c ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

"Do you guys think I could summon a demon?" Jingyi asked as he flipped his notebook closed.

"You would do anything but your homework." Sizhui sighs. "Why would you summon a demon?"

"Exactly so I don't do my homework!" And he jumps up to his feet from the floor, where he had been lounging for the past hour, pretending to be studying.

"Mr. Wei said no demon summoning when he's not at home." Zizhen replies as he types at his laptop. "He said he's not exorcizing demonic radishes for us ever again if we do summoning arrays on our own."

"Come on, that was one time! How was I supposed to know it was demon radishes of all things?"

"Maybe you shouldn't have summoned demons with rituals you got off Reddit." Jin Ling rolled his eyes. "And those things weren't even scary."

Jingyi sends him a pointed look. "You almost knocked the door down running away."

"To get help!"

"Good for you you're not a Lan because you'd be doing handstands for lying for days."

Jin Ling flips him off. "Anyway, you guys can summon whatever, but don't get me involved in the process. I have to be home by 9 or jiujiu locks me out."

Jingyi crosses his arms. "So what, you can just stay over."

"And hear Sizhui's parents fucking? I'd rather kill myself."

Sizhui is the one to roll his eyes as he checks over his math homework. "I don't know how you guys say you hear them. I don't hear anything and I've been living with them for years."

"It's called desensitization."

Jin Ling snorts. "Oh wow, Jingyi, that's a big boy word!"

"And if you don't run the hell out of here in the next 3 seconds, I'll show you a big boy punch!"

"Mr. Lan said no punching Jin Ling when he's not home!"

[localplaguenurse]

I am just nosy, forgive me. Can you describe each one of your mutuals?

Buckle up people and prepare to get complimented >:3c

First and foremost, they’re all absolute sweethearts to me.

There are my irl friends, such as @wretchedshade, @granolabird, @siriuscitrus and @scales-of-stardust or beta as I usually refer to them. I share the same braincell with these people.

Wretchedshade has been my best friend since we were ten, we’ve been there for each other for 11 years. I initially got her into anime, and then she got me into jojo, and every once in a while we cry about Doukyuusei again. She’s a great artist and is really good at writing sad shit, which is why I write sad shit; to have the glory of finally making her cry. She kicked cancer’s teeth in a few months ago so it’s about goddamn time something good come her way and I WILL fight someone on that.

Granolabird is the dm for my dnd campaign, and like I said, absolute sweetheart, chaotic adhd haver (actually like most of my friend group is like this lmao we’re all queer and neurodivergent). Either way, we used to share thoughts on each other’s original stories, and we still do sometimes but it’s mostly just sending each other tiktoks/reels like “this you” or “this your oc.”

Siriuscitrus is usually pretty hyper, but also tries to be v considerate of everyone’s feelings. If you said that the McDonald’s employee put pickles on your burger when you said no, they’d probably be the one to tell them. They’re also scarily good at vibechecking people and told me I give “future he/they vibes” and like a week later I said “fuck you’re right oh my god.”

You’ve probably seen me and beta’s interactions on here or in the ao3 comments. We enjoy our like playful rivalry/enemyship. I like to torment tease her and she usually gets me back pretty good, it’s all in good fun. It’s also really funny to me whenever we meet up, I tell myself “you are friends with them for reasons other than fic so do not make it about fic” and then we’ll spend literally hours talking about and brainstorming fic ideas. It just Happens.

I’m also gonna add @memory-mortis into here because while we’ve not met irl I’ve introduced him to my friend group. Yet another sweetheart, love her art style a lot, and she was one of the first comments I got on ginkgo trees to motivate me to keep going. I was kinda worried about bringing him into my friendgroup because like if I’m not overthinking I am not thinking At All. I was super relieved and happy that she like IMMEDIATELY fit in with everyone so :D

For some of my other close but only on tumblr/ao3/outside my general friendgroup mutuals! (There are too many so I’m sorry if you’re not here it’s mostly people I interact with more regularly ;-;)

@crimson-ashes who I have occasionally with absolute love called my “askbox gremlin” because they live in my inbox. I need to stress this is affectionate because genuinely, I love opening tumblr and seeing I’ve got asks from them. They gotta stop posting Astarion though because I’m feeling So Tempted to play BG but I know my laptop would kill itself (joking).

@crystalflygeo and I know I’ve called everyone sweethearts but genuinely, she’s probably one of the sweetest people I’ve had the pleasure of talking to. She’s really wholesome (unlike her writing which is never gonna be a complaint in my book, good soup) and super supportive of other people.

@madamemachikonew who’s super polite and really kind. She’s also really creative/smart when it comes to referencing real world art and philosophy in her writing and integrating it into her own worldbuilding. I would have never thought to have done that, and it makes her writing very unique!

We don’t interact as much but @probably-doesnt-exist, @ethve, @euniveve and @ainescribe are such talented artists and super sweet, have literally made me screech and cackle with utter joy whenever they draw the characters from ginkgo trees. I rotate through which art becomes my phone’s lock/home screens.

This is long af but fuck it, I wanna brighten people’s days and I told myself to say “I love you” to my friends and family more, so consider this one big “I love you!” to y’all. It’s a pleasure talking to y’all!

[eldritchmochi]

since shit continues to be wild, as evidenced by the oingo boingo voice WEIRD CANCER posts, heres.....

mochi, what the fuck is up with that?? (guts edition) 3.0

1.0 ; 2.0

i apparently have not seen enough specialists so i have an oncologist now. gotta catch 'em all and shit

tl;dr mystery mass did turn out to be technically cancerous. i do not remember the specific type off the top of my head yet but its a weird rare one, because of course it is. luckily its a kind that stays very localized, so it's not gonna pop up anywhere else in my body, and my surgeons did manage to remove all of it with good margins. i am now down the 3rd and 4th part of my duodenum and my gallbladder (which, fun fact, did have signs of chronic gallbladder disease, so i guess i didn't escape that family trend lmao). like all cancers, theres a chance it'll grow back, but if it does, it should be in roughly the same place and is unlikely to be fatal, just annoying

i've got a fuck off big scar building down the centerline of my abdomen, from sternum to groin. it is gnarly as fuck and i am excited to see how it heals. i already have some ideas on how to incorporate it into my tattoos. you can see pictures of it here if you're a morbid freak like me. be sure to look at my reblogs for updates, there will probably be several contained there down the line, for posterity :>

the first like 18hrs post surgery were uh. not fun since it took A WHILE to find some sort of non oral pain management that would actually work for me, so thats great, but sans ng tube, i'm getting by pretty okay with ibuprofen and tylenol with the occasional non-standard opioid. i've been home since tuesday, oct 10th; had a check in with a gp yesterday, oct 13th, and i'm healing well. staples will be removed on the 18th and theoretically i'll be able to keep them >:3c

i'm back to eating semi-normally. still on bowel rest, but it's not as strict as it was before and it's mostly because i am paranoid vs anything required by my doctors. i haven't been nauseous since i went under on oct 4th which is absolutely wild, and i've been experiencing hunger at normal, regular intervals including being able to eat breakfast shortly after i wake up, which i haven't been able to do without a high chance of barfing it back up immediately since i was a teenager

first oncology appt is on oct 23rd. sounds like itll be mostly setting up a plan and schedule for things like regular scans to watch for regrowth and possibly referrals for genetic testing

my pfml back pay came innnnn god only last week holy shit, and my wife got their big chunk of school loans for living expenses so we are mostly fine there. i am arranging with a local queer to come a couple times a week to help with regular chores and stuff at 40 bucks a pop. if anyone would like to sponsor one of those visits or some take out for us, i'm @/sumomomochi on both pp and vnm0

at this point the sort of stuff that would serve us best is GEEFTS. not like, physical things you pay money for necessarily, though if you're a custom dice maker and wanna send us clacky math rocks, i would not say no. things like comments on our fics (mochi's ao3 ; cherry's ao3) or fanart for em, should you be so inclined, would be incredible. cherry is very low key on the internet but i'm chronically online, so other stuff like asks about worldbuilding or fic process or fashion opinions or whatever would be fantastic for me. i am...... incredibly bored after sitting in the same spot for four months now, and i've got another 4-5 weeks of it (:

but! i have a good support system, personally, professionally, and medically, so i'll be alright in the end, just hmm. sure has been a fucking year jesus christ

[sunflowergem]

9 (Could you be roommates with this character?) for all the BG3 companions >:3c

So my first thought was a giant house with everybody in it which would be just absolute chaos. But obviously it's more meant to be one-on-one so let's go through them.

Astarion: Hmmmmm, I think I would be able to live with him but it wouldn't be ideal. He would probably be a little too mean too often, not even like a truly mean way. But like you know, he's a sassy guy and I am unfortunately rather sensitive. With a good amount of communication, I feel like we could become friends perhaps, but there's definitely going to be some rough patches in the first like year or so. Although we could get along pretty well as far as fashion and sewing goes, which would be fun. I make clothes and he embroiders them, sounds like a delightful hobby to have a bond over.

Gale: Solid roommate material for sure! Comes with furry friend, cooking skills, and a library, hell yeah! Also info dumping is my love language, biggest risk here is that I'd probably end up with a crush or eventually dating him. I'd treat him better than his ex for sure.

Halsin: Would we get along? Yes! Would there be a constant battle within my mind of him reminding me a little too much of my father but also being ridiculously attractive and that leading me to confront some deep-seated issues that I need to address someday with a professional? Also, yes! And I'm not sure if I'm ready to confront that part of myself. We probably have some kick-ass house plants though and I bet he makes the best cup of tea.

Jaheira: I feel like she wouldn't be home often and like would be kind of keeping to herself when she is. So I'd say yeah I could easily be her roommate. We both stay in our own lanes but were responsible. Probably be very healthy situation.

Karlach: Ignoring the fire hazard, I think she'd make a solid roommate. I feel like we'd have chore chart kind of synergy going on. Also opportunities to cuddle (I feel like there is possibility of that leading to some feelings as well, but that would not being negative) and like late night baking sessions randomly I could see popping up real easy. Kind of reminds me when I lived with my bestie for a while. In that context, it was only one room and we shared it which was a little tricky, but I have a lot of fond memories from those times<3

Lae'zel: Mmmmaybe? This is probably going to go one of three ways. One she ignores me and we just kind of cohabitate. Two she takes an interest in me and starts training me as a way to bond. I do like swords and would love to learn how to use one so this is not the worst but she would definitely be a harsh trainer. Or three she straight up kills me at some point. I don't know if I'd be able to sleep well for a while living under the same roof TBH

Minsc: This is actually the last one I wrote. Despite where it is in the list, I put them in alphabetical order because I couldn't decide how to order them. It is really hard to decide whether or not he would be a compatible roommate. Like I want to say yes cuz I like the guy. Plus he comes with a friendly hamster! But he is also kind of a wild guy I think. And I'm not sure what would be like cleanliness levels with him, which is a little bit of a thing with me. We're going to give this one a solid maybe.

Minthara: No. I would die. Even if she gets attached she's going to try toughen me up and I would die.

Shadowheart: Yeah I think we could chill as roommates. She doesn't try and push religion down anyone's throat and in the beginning for sure keeps to herself. As she becomes more friendly with you. She becomes a really chill lady overall. We'd probably be able to have some interesting deep philosophical conversations after she resolves some personal issues. This one would also probably evolve into either dating or everyone thinks we're dating, once again, very similar to my real life bestie.

Wyll: He would probably be a fantastic roommate, too bad about his overbearing boss who constantly comes over unannounced. But seriously, he's kind. He's respectful. He's thoughtful. This one very much probably evolve into some form of romance as well because I'm a bit of a flirt when I become comfortable with people and honestly kind of he gives that same vibe. This would definitely not be a negative cuz he is definitely husband material. Still got to find him a better job though and possibly resolve a few issues with his dad. But hey, we can bond over father trauma!

I don't know if it's just personal bias or if this would actually be some chemistry, but so many of these I think would turn into rom-com situations. It also could just be the source material being unrelentlessly horny. Which considering I'm asexual will be very funny. Not impossible cuz demisexual but definitely would be a slow burn kind of situation.

[widowshill]

💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you. ✏️ — how long have you been roleplaying on tumblr? 💻 — how many friends have you made in the rpc? feel free to tag a few of them! TEEHEE :3c

MUNDAY ASKS.

💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you.

OH NO MORE FACTS. 1) ok, i have been dressing in vintage or vintage-adjacent style since about sophomore year of high school, but I wouldn't say I started being good at it til midway through college. 2) I live in a very rural area so there's not much around me but we do have stellar night-sky visibility, and air quality <3. 3) I've been to three disney parks (ca, fl, and paris) ; nothing beats the og magic kingdom to me but paris had the best potc, so. they're really close.

✏️ — how long have you been roleplaying on tumblr?

ten years next month haha. my first blog was for alice k.ingsleigh, and i started esme soon after, but I've deleted and remade them a few times since then.

💻 — how many friends have you made in the rpc? feel free to tag a few of them!

many, many, over a decade lol, though i don't talk to everyone anymore as we've gone our separate ways. a special shout out to the crusty sea squad, and @criticalfai1ure in particular, for being here for the very very long ride. @forevermuses is one of my closest, and you are one of my newest ! also, @godblooded and @mxdam and @finalslay, to name just a handful ; and @dying-suffering-french-stalkers, though not a rpc member herself, became a dear friend of mine because of the tumblr rpc so it counts lmao.

[kowaindar0u]

"Dear Diary" ask! 6 and 13 for Yuichi ;3c (@zantedeschia-praesul)

[ DEAR  DIARY          .    .    . ]

06.     entry made discussing travel they’ve done or hope to do.

[dated December 29, 2019]

This was so stupid. Why did I think this would be helpful? How did "I need to get out of the house" turn into "I need to get out of the city?" I don't even BELIEVE the first one most of the time.

I didn't plan anything specific to do. Maybe that's part of the issue. I get too stressed out just thinking about it-- and then, of course, I just remember that I'm here alone, and then I just... feel pathetic. Even in a city known for such friendly people, I can't bring myself to go out, be among them, and enjoy any of it. I tried to psyche myself up to go to a cafe or something, just to say that I did, but instead I worked myself into a panic attack. I ordered in and ate in my hotel room. I did eventually go for a walk, but it was cold as hell and pretty late, so... I came back before I got too far.

I know I took off a week from work, but... I think the past two days is just proof that I truly should just stay home. I'm getting on the first train from Osaka back to Kamakura tomorrow. I know I'll be more comfortable once I'm home, but I hate that. I can't do anything without getting so stressed out, and none of it is even that deep. Maybe someday I'll be able to just. Go sit down somewhere and eat a fucking plate of crepes!!!!! But until then... at least there's delivery, huh.

13.     entry made featuring mention of (sender’s) muse. (Saseki)

[dated the first night of Saseki's arrival to Nagame honmaru]

Today was so exciting. I was so nervous about the visit from Saseki-san all these weeks leading up to today, but as is usually the case, I was worrying for nothing. This other saniwa is so friendly, and I think I could learn a lot from him. I'm not sure how long he's been doing this. But... I feel like he's got a lot of experience, especially compared to me-- Not to mention the touken danshi he brought with him seem to have gotten much stronger than their counterparts of mine are right now (thankfully they all seem to be getting along quite well, though perhaps I should expect as much with them being so similar to each other). Given Nagame's first year, I can only imagine what all Saseki and his men might have been through in all this time. Still, even with all he must know, he feels very down-to-earth and trustworthy. I think... we will become friends, if I'm going to be optimistic. We had a good time at the welcome party, and he and his men didn't seem to mind our rain too much. Speaking of the party, I ate a lot and it was quite lively, so... I think I'm going to bed. Good night. P.S.-- Saseki-san is a painter, too! I hope he will show me some of his work while he is here.

13.     entry made featuring mention of (sender’s) muse. (Nagasone)

[dated the day before our current thread :3c]

I write this as I hide under every blanket I have in my room. I think I'm gonna cry. What do I do? Oh.. what do I do??? All of my touken danshi are irreplaceable, such rays of joy, so dear to me, and I love them so much. That much will never stop being true.

But... There is ... It's Nagasone. What do I do?! I don't know what this is. It's more than a crush. I know what that's like. But this... Oh, I don't know...

Is it bad of me to have assigned him as my attendant the last few days? I mean-- I trust him completely, both in his capacity as attendant, and just... in general, which... I appreciate so, so much... But that's... that's not all. I just... I've just wanted to see him more, and be near him, even though every time we lock eyes or he touches me I feel like dying but... in the best way possible. Which in some ways is unfortunate because his sweet, attentive self always seems to pick up on when I'm stressing and then he takes my hands and I swear to all that is holy that I just short circuit and black out for a few seconds.

Even so, I... find myself not wanting to be away from him. I want to keep him close, for me, but also... I want to be there for him, too. It's a little awkward when he's my attendant, but I just can't help it, I... I want to do anything I can for him. I don't know what, and he practically never asks for anything. I wish he would ask, or I wish I was as intuitive as him so I could just... know what he wanted, and do it for him. Anything. Even something as simple as bringing him a treat from the kitchen, or brushing his hair, or...

My god. I sound insane. I don't know why I feel the need to justify this to you, my own journal, but. I promise It's not anything uncouth. I just... Journal, what do I do? It's clear to me that he cares for me very much. But I don't know if it's... the same. Even if I had the guts to bring it up to him, I think with my position...It's best if I don't put it forward. It hurts, but... For now, at least... I think I will just... try and sleep. And probably hug that body pillow that Sayo gave me. Don't you dare tell a soul, Journal.

[antariies]

20 19 questions for writers

tagged by @i-mybrunettelady!! ty nero :3c

tagging dama my friend dama @sylvaridreams

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

th. three.

2. what fandoms do you write for?

exclusively gw2 these days!

3. what are your top 5 by kudos?

i've only got the three published on ao3, so in order of most to least kudos is: forgive us, visions of the past: the departing, and HOW TO BUILD A CHAIR (THIS COULD BE GLORY) !

4. do you respond to comments?

yeas :•]

5. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmm! how to come back from the dead

6. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i would say all the gift fics i've written have pretty happy endings!

7. do you get hate on fics?

no. also how is that even a thing still

8. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

no, but i love to talk about ocs fucking creepy and wetstyle on discord with friends. if i were to write dedicated smut i think it would be a series of oneshots from my commander's pov. it's not harley's fault he has so much weird and freaknasty yet incredibly story-relevant sex. pussy that launched a thousand plots.

9. do you write crossovers?

once ☝️ when i was younger and on ff.net i wrote a SYOC pokemon/pjo crossover. it's been abandoned for years. poor thing.

10. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

11. have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes! we haven't worked on it in a hot minute, but @hawkepockets and i have a fic about harley and prem's historic falling out pre-personal story, featuring our many headcanons about divinity's reach and the events surrounding the great collapse :]

12. what's your all-time favorite ship?

HARLEY/TRAHEARNE/GIL THE OT3 OF ALL TIME !

13. what's one WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

ummm i have a wip called "lessons learned" and it was supposed to be a series of 2nd-person vignettes from the pov of the sylvari commander. expanding more on early personal story and how being raised/mentored by caithe and trahearne kind of fucked them up. whose bright idea was it to let miss "i will walk on my knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting" and mister "i want to martyr myself so bad it makes me look stupid" take a crack at the young and impressionable sapling anyway. now look at them. they're pushing aurene to meet the same unreasonable standards because it's the only way they know how to live. generational trauma fic. you know how it is.

14. what are your writing strengths?

give me a STRUCTURE! give me a set of RULES! if you say "here is a strict format you MUST follow" i will say "YESSIRRRR" and i will think inside of that box so hard and i will do it so good. i don't break rules but by god i'll bend them within an inch of their life. also i'm funny

15. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

more of it now and forever

16. first fandom you wrote for?

pjo high school au

17. favorite fic you've written?

due to recency bias, my fave fic is always the one i worked on last. rn it's my wip "how to make coffee"!

18. what are your writing weaknesses?

the fact that i don't do it. my turnaround time is abysmal there's like a minimum two years waiting period in between everything i publish :[ also according to my boyfriend just now he says sometimes i don't explain things enough. sometimes i expect the audience to know what kind of broth i'm making but i haven't thrown them enough bones. and i don't realize this bc the broth is already cooked in my head. it's obvious to me but not to them.

19. have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had someone ask once if they could translate my fic, but they also wanted to repost it to a different website. so i turned them down. sharing is fine, but i'm just not comfortable with my writing being reposted somewhere else even with credit.

[cacophony-sys]

hiiii making a pinned post because it seems like a good idea! We're a system and are all in a constant cuddlepile with each other and there are nine of us and we love you.

The best way to refer to us collectively is either Cacophony or Caco. We prefer it/its or they/them pronouns collectively, but she/her is also fine. It's the best way to talk about us without assuming who's in front. If you do want to know that though and we're chatting you can always ask <3

Anyway here's all of us:

- Sophie, it/its doll mushroom slime thing -w-

- Quinn, she/her girl. Quiet but snarky when she's comfortable enough. Obsessed with character analysis

- Pepper, she/her conglomeration of living flesh and machinery. I don't talk much but I do reblog the gender stuff when it passes by. Currently one of our most common fronters.

- Cyn, they/she/it/fae girl-adjacent wraith-nebula-demon-shadow-faerie-thing, as described by the rest of us. None of us have literally any idea how to pin down its gender and she's entertained enough by this fact that fae doesn't try.

- Silver, it/its agender AI. I don't front because I hate having a body

- Elena, she/it girl... thing. Hard to describe.

- Freya, fae/she siren. I don't usually post here unless we get manic.

- Mel, it/its feral monsterthing and will bite you. I talk a lot and am one of our most common fronters as a result. If you follow us I will take it as implicit permission to chew on your arm unless otherwise stated >:3c

- Emily, she/it robot girl. I will lose hours of time to spreadsheeting if you let me. Another one of the current most common fronters.

We also have a couple merged states that crop up every so often:

- Nicki (they/she), composed of Pepper and Mel

- Jenna (she/her), composed of Quinn and Freya

Besides the headmate tags and tags for stuff we actually add to basically nothing is usefully tagged here. Please send asks they are very fun :3

[lowkeyclueless5137]

Winx Club au(S1)

Alright! But hear me out!

Like I have the creative zoomies(again) and I brainroted this for DAYS! Like you have no idea how on point I nailed everything.

Except visuals... We are here for the plot... :'3

I will accept any kind of visual suggestions tho... Plot too if you have :3

Anyway! I put the title! You know it: Winx Au!

Bc why not? Why tf shouldn't I smush together these 2 pieces of media that I like?

Anyway! We will have A LOT to cover... Because, much to the horror of moi, we will have 6 seasons. Like, if you know winx or were in the Fandom, you know the mixed opinions that started after season 3. It's just... A lot...

Even so, I enjoyed way too much the concepts and themes of the later seasons that I... Kinda forgot about plot? Shocking, I know...

Although season 7 was way too painful to watch and that's where I dropped everything and went my merry way. U-U9

Anyway! With that out of the way, we will dive into this Au, but first, some disclaimers:

I WILL go into more darker themes. Maybe Winx had a lighter tone, but it did go dark a few times. And I will go and shove it in even darker pits.

There will be swearing, much like violence... Because I need it for plot purposes.

This Au will start IN PARALLEL with Winx S1. So if you see mentions of og winx characters, locations or artefacts, you know why. I will also neglect season 7 and 8. Which means that for me, lore wise, will be irrelevant. I say this, because I will use lore aspects up until season 6, therefore it's just the bare necessities :3

At one point, the winx time-line and this au's time-line will meet up. So you should expect even a meeting in between the og winx and our group. :3c

Now, with that out of the way, we will go under ✨the cut✨ for it!

To start off: world lore.

Twisted wonderland was a planet full of magic. Unfortunately, due to political reasons, this planet didn't want to abide by the rest of Magix's quite tight rules and regulations, therefore it wasn't granted as many benefits as the other planets who agreed upon them. The primary reason was, of course: there has to be one singular royal family ruling over the whole planet. Twisted wonderland had multiple monarchies, democracies, republics and everything. And it was clear neither of them wanted to cojoin and be ruled by a single entity.

What was very special about twisted wonderland, was it's diversity in magic and how open it was. While it was very diverse, quite the array of categories of magic being able to be accessed, it was more or so notable that the common folk either didn't have magic affinities, or very weak magic, to the point they don't unlock even the base forms. Those people are called: stagnants, and could follow just primary magical courses at the very least.

Some notable institutes training people are:

NRC- an all boys school for fairies. Founded by the great 7, NRC is a 4 year boarding-school, whith a riguros training system. You can only boast about being in NRC after you passed in your 3rd year, because the exams are means of expulsion on their own.

RSA- the infamous specialists School. It trains magicless people into becoming knights and guards. It is quite renowned for it's 4 year training and great knights who could handle difficult situations.

NBC- the school of witches and wizards. Mostly known for it's long history and the very notable positive figures it housed. Despite training students into the dark arts, many came out to be protectors of their homelands or serving for good.

Now, for the first season:

We follow Jack. Jack was a Beastman, coming from a magicless family. His family had a very weak connection with magic since countless generations. But that didn't really stop Jack from living his life. He was a normal guy. That's all about him.

Alright, maybe not so normal, since he was close friends with the raising star in acting and modeling: Vil Schonenheit. Vil was known to be a fairy in training, just like his father, grandparents and so on. But Vil was also nice and always made time to go outside and hang out with Jack, so Jack really didn't think Vil was bad like the villain he was always portrayed in movies or plays.

But even so, Jack was never ready when he first discovered he could do magic. It was something more of a heat of the moment: his younger siblings were in danger, falling from a tree they climbed, so Jack, in a panic, summoned a layer of magic snow that cushioned their fall. It was clear he was the source, because it was the middle of the summer then.

With that, Jack really had his world rocked from it's feet. Vil just started his first year at NRC at that time, so he really wasn't sure if he should lay this news on his friend.

Nonetheless, Vil was excited when he heard the news. Jack was a terrible liar, so he figured he should fess up rather than hide it. Vil, obviously, was very happy and expected for his buddy to come to NRC with him. To assure he will get picked up, Vil would train Jack over the holidays, trying to get a grip on his powers before going into school.

Vil managed to get into his 3rd year when Jack finally got accepted and got in as a first year. Unfortunately for him, Vil did tell him that now that he was in his 3rd year, he would have to work even harder, so the best they could do is to text each other and maybe they could hang out sometime.

So Jack stepped in NRC, with a rough idea of how things work and clearly ready to learn more.

Vil told him about the sorting ceremony, so Jack really didn't expect to be so gloomy. When he thought about the fairies, he saw them so colorful and sparkly. Even so, someone did grab him, explaining that it's a metaphor for the butterflies process. They start as gloomy caterpillars before gaining their wings.

That someone was none other than a short boy with hair made out of blue flames. Jack was surprised of the hair, but the boy, named Ortho, was thrilled to meet another first year. He really hoped to be sorted for the Ignihyde courses. At that, Jack really didn't understand.

Ortho explains it to him: there are 7 courses, meant to train a future fairy in one of the 7 virtues the founders had. Each course has it's unique perks and special places on campus.

The 7 courses were:

The Heartslabyul course-focused mainly on a little bit of everything. It's a course that relies heavily on the rule abiding. A fairy must always aim to solve a problem without breaking rules or morals, which can affect their magic as well. Their special aera was the rose garden, where the students could relax or maditate. Jack noted that it would be a great course for him. He wanted to practice everything.

The Savanaclaw course- a course that relies mostly on limited use of magic. It trains fairies to be proficient even without magic, making it the best course in training great guards. They just never give up no matter what. Their perk was unlimited access to the sports grounds. Ortho said that even if he was energetic, he wouldn't stand a chance in there. He's a couch potato unfortunately. :'3

The Octavinelle course- they are courses mostly aimed at one's inner peace. Since the state of the mind also affects fairies, Octavinelle students are known to be always with their feet on the ground and able to deal very easy with spells that require a more deep understanding of oneself. Ortho wouldn't call it really a perk, but there is a cafe on campus that Octavinelle fully runs it. They also have an aera of the library allocated to them only.

The scarabia course- it's very popular for their focus on resources. These students are fairies who can easily use their environment to their advantage. Apparently their perk is access to a lot of supplementary courses outside. They could just crash in other course's expedition outside and be totally fine with it. Jack really didn't know what to say, but Ortho reassured that apparently the scarabia fairies are quite chill.

The poemfiore course- it's a course focused on antidotes and curses management. Their main perk is unlimited access to herbs and ingredients that are cultivated on the school grounds. Although they are also renowned for their impeccable looks and manners. Ortho did say that perhaps he could fit the bill for it, while Jack mentioned he had a friend in there.

The Ignihyde course- a course focused primarily on magic and technology. Since there is magic tech, the Ignihyde fairies can merge magic with tech flawlessly. There are many technological fairies in there, although there are also a few exceptions. Their perks aren't that known, but they have the underground workshops, where they can invent or tinker with whatever they please. Ortho said that his big brother is there, so he hopes to get also in there. Jack didn't really feel like he had a knack for tech, so he really didn't know what to say.

Then, the last one, Diasomnia- the practical magic course. Not only is the course where one of the most powerful fairies are coming, it is also a course with a lot of perks: status, more optional courses, meditation places and also a personal library section. It's the course that outshines everyone. Ortho did say that he hoped he wouldn't end up with a jerk from there in the dorm. Jack just awkwardly looks in the other part.

Ortho also mentioned that apparently the dorms are mixed. So there is a fair chance that even if they end up in different courses, they could still be roommates. Jack also hoped that, because ortho was literally the only 1st year he knew.

They do get sorted by the dark mirror. An odd name, but Jack didn't question it.

He ended up in Savanaclaw. And Ortho ended up in Ignihyde.

Jack was of course guided towards a senior: Ruggie. He presented himself as the prefect of the Savanaclaw course. A prefect, as Ruggie put it, was a student who excels in their courses while also embracing the virtues of the founder the course is based of. As a prefect, Ruggie had a job of overseeing the savanaclaw students. Mostly to guide the first years and nudge them into adapting. He also explained the school main rules to them, which Jack took a big note of:

-do not be off the campus after 22.

-do not smuggle in dangerous curses/artefacts.

-do not cross the restricted sections of the school.

3 big rules. Of course, there are the minor rules also, but these 3 are the ones that immediately get you expulsion.

Ruggie also gave to everyone, one by one, their programs and dorm keys. Thankfully Ruggie was the kind soul who smuggles in a map for the first years, so they won't get lost, then pushed them on their merry way to the dorms.

It took some mad orientation skills and also a small meeting with Vil, before Jack finally found his dorm.

And it was a mess.

The dorm itself was pretty big, considering it had 3 supposed bedrooms, all connected through a small lounge. It was very spacious. But it had things sprawled around, 2 guys arguing, one of them on the coffee table, and 2 literally throwing books and pillows at each other.

Oh and Ortho was there. He seemed to be texting someone when he saw Jack and happily approached him.

It took a bit to calm down and finally get around with intros and everything. There were 2 bedrooms, each with 2 beds and everyone was already pre-determined.

In the first room- Deuce Spade from Heartslabyul and Sebek Zigvolt from Diasomnia.

Second room- Jack and Ortho

Third room- Epel Felimer from poemfiore and Ace Trappola from Heartslabyul.

And for now, things seemed quite awkward, with everyone settling in at their own pace then sleeping.

The first few days were also awkward. Everyone had their own courses and still had to get to know each other, which was a bit hard. Still, for the sake of coherence, Jack tried his best to bring everyone together to bond.

Which leads them to a weekend hangout through the Sage city. Gradually, they had fun together, went to a cafe, arcade and walked through the streets, bonding. It seemed to do wonders as now they were all comfortable enough to crack jokes in between them.

But their fun moment is cut short when they happen to overhear a very sus conversation on an alleyway. Being the bastards they were, despite Jack, Deuce and Sebek being against it, the 6 of them decide to snoop a bit on the convo.

They overhear 2 people, cloaked from head to toe, talking about finding some sort of key. One of them seemed quite impatient as the other reassured that until they find the key, that a stone they showed should do the trick. Ortho recognised it as a black magic stone, which got the group to worry.

Sage Island was very known to heavily rely on fairy magic, also dubbed as white magic. Black magic is used sometimes in here, but if it's used to affect the land, the island itself won't stand, since it's core is made out of fairy magic. At least that's what Epel explained to the group in whispers.

Their little cover is blown anytway, because they couldn't be discret to save their lives, so due to this, the 2 people summon a monster made out of trash, meant to dispose of them, while they fleed.

And rightfully, being the fledgling fairies they were, this group was absolute shit at it. Everyone tries to be leader and everyone is crashing one against each other. It doesn't help that only 4 out of 6 could actually transform. (Jack and Ace) which left 2 more vulnerable.

In the end, Jack comes up with a plan to defeat the monster and actually rolling with it, assuring them as the winners of the fight, while the monster returned to trash piles. But they made a mess out of it, so now they hurried back to NRC to just get a shower and talk about it, since maybe they were tired, but sleep was the last thing on their worry list.

Except that they get caught up by Ruggie. They came in late, but seeing how they were looking like shit, Ruggie decides to close an eye for the meantime, with the promise of not happening again. They didn't go that much over the curfew, so he could just assume they got lost on their way back.

At their dorm, the 6 of them gathered together after cleaning up and getting some comfy pijamas and decided to discuss about it.

Epel says that he is the fairy of earth, hence why he felt a slight disturbtion in the earth magic from here when the monster was summoned. That monster clearly wasn't a being with life and mind of it's own as Ortho put it, but their next dilema was: What was the deal with those 2 people?

Ace suggests that maybe they should leave it and mind their own business. Deuce said that he is worried about the monster returning, or even worse, more of them coming. Sebek was wondering what kind of key were those people looking for. Epel had mixed feelings about it, while Ortho was insisting to look into it.

Jack suggested to tell some authorities about it, which gained a flat no. They didn't know how the individuals looked like, nor did the monster they fought got caught by the public. They could be considered to be bluffing for clout, so for now, this stood in between them.

The conclusion: no one would believe the without evidence.

So in the spirit of their unanimous decision of investigating, Ace suggests a group name for them. They were kind of like a team so names were suggested around. The final draft was: Requix squad. It sounded sick by Epel's standards, so they decided that this was their group name.

So they start their investigation. Looking around for clues about what the key was meaning, watching the news, discovering that more and more monster attacks were spotted, thankfully the specialists and fairies were there in time. And of course, attending the courses and triaing to unlock their fairy forms or more power.

Early on, they get introduced to the concept of fairy forms: there are 2 main forms: base form and enchantix. In the first year, students are meant to learn the bases, including control of their base form. The 2nd year students are meant to unlock charmix, a power up for their base form, meant to signal them getting closer to enchantix. And by the final of their 3rd year, they have to get enchantix, so that on the 4th year they could properly train to be guardian fairies.

And like that, our Requix squad is very vexed about it. Ortho had an idea what that stone they saw could be, but he still had to do some research and confirm his worries before sharing a possibly flawed theory.

During this, Jack has Leona, his practical magic teacher, noticing his lack of attention. He does confront him about it. Maybe it was just the start of the year, but Leona could see that Jack was a vigilent kid, so him looking so troubled must've been because something happened. Rightfully, Leona assumes it's because Jack is a late bloomer with magic and all these monster attacks that leave the first year fairies to learn combat more early.

So Leona tries to reassure Jack that he needs to put more mind on his own self and only then he will be able to connect with his magic more.

Meanwhile, Ace has a nightmare. One that ends up waking Epel as well, the 2 having a talk about it.

Ace tells Epel that he saw something bad. A big monster, dark tunnels, and the same cloaked figure from the alley, hidden in the shadows. Epel wasn't the best at comforting, but he did his best. In the morning, Ace didn't share about it with the others, everyone assuming he just didn't sleep that well.

Meanwhile, Jack catches Ortho trying out a dark magic spell. When asking about it, Ortho realises that he has to fess up to the truth: he was half witch, mainly from his mother's side. Since the Shrouds had the heirloom of the first born to be the fairy of death, Ortho's big brother, Idia, gained that title, along with being a full fledged fairy, even if he did cary some faith traces of dark magic, those didn't affect him. Meanwhile, Ortho inherited both fairy and witch magic, making it hard to control and sometimes, his own body can't take it, manifesting as dizzy spells or even fainting when one of the sides takes over. So far, Ortho took many precautions, but he just can't pursue one side of him without feeling the repercussions, so sometimes he tries dark magic spells to balance it out.

Jack is a bit taken aback by it, but Ortho pleaded for him to tell no one. Jack had no option but to comply and help Ortho out with his little problem, mainly by helping with the research about the stone.

And they finally come with a rough idea. What that stone was, could it be a gloomix stone. The others are a bit confused, but Ortho tells them that gloomix is a witch form. Just like charmix is for a fairy, gloomix is a powerup for a witch's base form. Except that while charmix comes from making personal amends with oneself, gloomix is made through taking dark magic straight from a power source or given to you by a more powerful entity.

This leads them to search more about where could the gloomix stone could come from. They discover some aincent tunnels, so while everyone is asleep, the 6 sneak out and find a hidden entrance to the tunnels right behind a statue on the school hall.

Ace does become uneasy, saying to Epel that it was just like in his dream, which also got Epel a bit uneasy. They are exploring a bit the place, using an enchanted paper to map it out.

Thankfully for them, they find a big door. One under many locks. An idea coming from Sebek was to use a convergence spell. They were all a bit skeptical, but if they find something useful in there, they could pinpoint the one behind the monsters and finally report it to the authorities. Heck, maybe they could gain some nice grades out of it. It wasn't unheard of extra credits or good grades from fulfilling a very difficult problem/mission.

The convergence spell is wonky, not working at first. But a second time has all of the group finally coming to a comune agreeement: they need to open that door. They are a group and nothing can stop them!

And it works! The locks are down and the doors open.

And the place? A big library. Lots of stairs, both tall and deep, filled with rows and rows of books. There were also floating platforms going up and down as on the walls, different murals were painted.

They decide to go down instead of up, finding at the bottom, after a hell lot of stairs, some tables, armchairs and couches. There was also a big Cauldron in one side, some utensils and many more things, yet the most interesting of it was a crystal ball.

Jack nudges Ortho to do something with it, but the latter doesn't want. Instead, Sebek pokes it, wondering what it is. The ball does seem to light up and shake with life as from there, a spirit of a man in a lot of robes presents itself.

Also a cat, which immediately slaps Sebek for poking the ball. :'3

The man presents himself as Trein, the spirit of the aincent library. He thought that this place was locked, as no one really got on. The group is pretty quick to say that it was fairly easy to get in, because they did a convergence spell. Trein was a bit skeptical, since the convergence spell had to have both light and dark magic to open all the locks.

It brings a bit of suspicion among the group, Ortho growing uneasy and Jack trying his best to divert the situation towards their goal: finding the truth about the monster attacks. Trein couldn't help them that much, only show them present events through the crystal ball. Lucius however, could find for them any book they desire.

The group contemplates for a bit, before finally telling what they want: a book on monster making. Lucius finds it quite quick and gives it to them, starting to skimm through it and try to find what kind of monster did they encounter then.

It was found out that it was actually a simple type of dark magic spell, a monster made out of environment objects. Therefore their foe wasn't someone that powerful. Maybe they were even on par with them.

But their little research moment gets stopped when they hear a roar outside. Lucius reports to Trein that some sort of beast is trying to break into the library. The group decides to fight it, because that might be their next big clue after all.

In the fight, Ace and Jack also unlock their own fairy base forms. The monster doesn't get defeated that easily, leaving a few wounds on the group, who had to rest a bit in the library.

But, they managed to defeat it in the end. And fortunately, this monster leaved behind something: a wilted flower. It must've been created from that flower in question, so maybe they could find another big clue.

Trein seems quite pleased with the group in question. Maybe everything seemed a bit of a haze, all on the run and bearly they got a month since their started school, but Trein saw some potential in them. So he decided to test them: he gives them a riddle and they will have to bring him the answer to it. The library will only be open to them and them alone, so they shouldn't worry if the monster would return. To find the library again, Trein entrusted them with a magic bottle, that it will show them where the library is when unbottled. They only have 1 chance after all, so they all should think the riddle through.

As for the riddle:

You can't see, smell or hear me,

You feel me at your worst,

You know me at your best,

You, alone, can't have me,

I will be your power and your weakness.

What am I?

So the first years are left to sneak back to their dorm and contemplate.

Except that the next day, after classes, everyone is called for an emergency roll call. As it turns out, the island is suffering consequences of the dark magic monsters being more and more by the day. And so, it was mandatory for NRC and the locals to have some dark magic detectors around. Those were put a few days ago.

And already they went off a few times, getting everyone to realise that someone in this school was secretly a witch. This qualified as a traitor, given the circumstances.

And so, it comes to each group of students to be interrogated under the detector. Of course, knowing just how they got the library seal down, our group is a bit uneasy and also suspicious of each other. They tried to contemplate any kind of last minute plan to escape it, but so far, nothing came to them.

And of course, the detector goes off on them. In front of everyone. Of course, Crowley, the headmaster, gives them the option to fess up who's the witch or all of them to face expulsion and also be handed to the police for further investigations.

And Jack, desemned leader of the group, has no other option than to fess up that Ortho was half a witch. He tried to defend him, saying that Ortho couldn't have done such a thing, but everyone was obviously shocked and more or so disgusted by this.

Thankfully, before Crowley could do a decree, a student raises up, while the other leave for their dorms. That was Idia, very notable by his fire hair. When he goes to Crowley, the detector also goes off. Idia explains to Crowley. Since they remained alone, Idia has more courage to explain that because of their mother being a very powerful witch, both Idia and Ortho have traces of dark magic. It's not much, but enough to have the detectors go off. The monsters that plagued the city were getting more powerful, sign that perhaps gloomix could be involved, which Ortho clearly didn't have.

Also Idia pointed something out, that the Shrouds have a unique trace of magic, which would've let anyone know that a creation spell was done by them, mainly the 'heart of flame'. As an example, Idia himself creates a creature, which notably has a blue flame around it's chest. It easily dissappeared, but it did prove the case.

Crowley buys into it and leaves the group off the hook for now. But if they ever slip up again, he will have to take more drastic measures. For now, Idia is guiding them back to their dorm.

And rightfully, on the halls, Idia warns them. He saw them last night sneaking around. He is aware that they are mingling where they shouldn't, so he tells them to stay put.

He just doesn't want to repeat 'the incident' again.

Back at the dorm, everyone is silent. It was clear that Jack was aware of Ortho's secret and still, it felt like a betrayal. Ortho doesn't try do defend his case, but Ace is the one that breaks the silence.

Idia was going to save their asses anyway so Jack didn't have to just rat out a secret he was entrusted with. Jack tries to defend himself, saying that he didn't know about Idia having an intervention, even so, Epel adds that it's just fucked up that the headmaster was gonna hand them all on the police hands just for that. Deuce points out that now they all have big targets on their back and probably the culprit is happy they have a cover.

Sebek booms in, saying that they must find the true perpetuator, because this now is personal. The headmaster was truly too hurried with this thing, so something had to be up with it. They were 1st years, it was easy to weed them out. If perhaps they were 3rd years or more influencial, then it would've been harder to come up with a proper motive.

So now, Jack just puts his foot down. They are in this shit together. They have an advantage: the library. They need to figure out that riddle, find the object that is the answer, unmask the culprit and clear their name. Now it's the best time to just fess up everything that is on the plate. No more secrets and then they can work this shit together.

So they gather up in their lounge, with pillows and blankets. Sebek conjured a stick they called 'the stick of talky', so they started to pass it around.

Jack didn't have any secrets he hid from them. He was the fairy of snow apparently, which was also new to him, he tries to get around everything and hopes he can just get to the bottom of this.

Ace gets the stick, revealing that he is the fairy of tarot, which puts him in the future seeing fairies, quite the taboo type. His brother was the fairy of matchmaking, a graduate of NRC and Ace hopes to surpass his brother one day to gain more than just 'the little brother' title.

When it's Epel's turn, he says that he wants to be manly, not a cute sparkly ass fairy. But as the fairy of earth, he has to commit to it. He says that he's sick of the poemfiore's strict self care regime, which has him looking like a porcelain doll. And doesn't help that he absolutely hates the prefect's guts.

Sebek reveals that he trains to be a retainer for prince Malleus Draconia, the fairy of dragon's breath. He takes great pride in it, but with Silver, his fellow guard, being a year older and in the 2nd year, Sebek feels a bit overshadowed and ignored by Malleus and Lilia in favor of Silver.

The stick reaches now Ortho, who has a bit of a hard time, but the others were silent when the others confessed so Ortho finally got it off his chest everything, including why Idia was so worried to the point of intervening into their situation because the way Idia gained his enchantix was by giving his base form's wings in an attempt at saving Ortho. Ortho was not a fairy if death, rather a fairy of the souls, which isn't really something to brag about. The others didn't push more info and finally the stick reached Deuce.

Among his delinquent phase, Deuce admits that he has in possession something else. As the fairy of the night sky, Deuce got as a heirloom, the zodiac blade, a blade that was in the form of a bracelet Deuce had on his hand. This blade was insanely powerful and Deuce fears of using it as he is still incapable of controlling it. He fears he could hurt everyone if he uses it.

After the stick finally making a full round, everyone seems a bit awkward. Ace finally decides to address the elephant in the room: they are shit at getting along. This gains a pillow on the face from Epel, which quickly escalates in a pillow fight.

After the pillow fight, all of them were just laying there, laughing and taking a breather. They were absolute disasters, but at least they had each other.

And that's what gets Jack's gears turning. He finally got an idea of the riddle answer, so he prompts the others that the answer they were searching for was here the whole time.

The answer was them all. Their group. Maybe they had a way too fast development, maybe they just got in too much trouble for bearly starting the year and maybe it was all a very wierd streak of luck that got them here, but they are now here, all sprawled on the floor and laughing together despite in what deep shit they are now.

They were in all of this together and they will get out of there together too!

But how do they go to Trein to tell the answer? They were on close watch.

And that was painfully made obvious. Not only the teachers, but also the students put more attention on them. Except that the students also did give them some nasty looks too or even go as far as to prank them. Oh Deuce was on the verge of squaring up with someone if it wasn't for Ace.

But also Idia seemed more of a worrywart now, which the group really was a bit thankful, since Idia's gloomy vibes kept at bay the other younger students.

But still, they took the risk and finally sneaked in while everyone slept to find the library. They do so, surprisingly quick, seeing how there were several failed attempts and more than not some of them slamming into walls.

Trein does wait for them and the group presents their answer: their bond was the answer. Trein takes it as a close one since the answer was friendship (which none of these petty mfs is able to even admit it), but he takes it as correct and finally grands them unlimited access to the library, in the form of a mark on each of their hands. The mark will only appear when they wish to go to the library. And the mark will turn any door they wish to use into a temporary door to the library as to not go all the way through the secret tunnels.

The first years obviously cheer for their success, so they get straight to work. Using Ace's future seeing powers and the cristal ball, the group is able to predict a few of the next attacks. The one they had to look out to was the one on the Halloween, which was when a big ball was held at RSA. Many students from other schools will go there after all. And it was also where their prediction showed that a big monster will come.

So they start to cook a plan. They obviously were forbidden from leaving the school grounds as they were still under suspicion, so they had to be more creative.

So countless hours of late night library studying and and searching. Ortho was a bit skeptical, but in the end decided to make a concealing spell, which would make all 6 of them unrecognizable and thus able to attend the ball. Thankfully it was an open gates event held outside.

Ace and Deuce were trying to assure the details about the ball, while Epel and Sebek were looking into a way to capture the culprit. And Jack was looking into the aspects the monsters had up until now. Ortho had to make the said potion, as a spell would be blown off immediately. It was chaotic and Trein simply watched them ferret from time to time, figuring out that they aren't aware over what source of power they actually stumbled upon.

Halloween comes around. The theme of the ball was, of course, masked ball. And with this, as to not swallow some nasty tasting potion, Ortho merged it into some masquerade masks, perfect to conceal them. To add to it, their casual clothes were now very eye catching gowns and their body proportions also changed. Ortho clearly was proud of his potion success, but warned that it might not hold past midnight, so they should hurry.

The ball itself wasn't that flashy. And it was a surprise that 6 random pretty girls presented themselves in there. To communicate, they had earpieces disguised as earrings, so they split up.

Jack does go to the food table and due to some 'unfortunate accident', a specialist accidentally spills some juice on his dress, which prompts Jack to excuse himself and go to the bathroom. The specialist, named Neige, apologises for it and decides to show Jack where the women toilets are.

On their way tho, Jack knocks out Neige with a spell and is on his merry way to explore the said school, in search for anything that could point to the culprit.

Meanwhile, Ace and Deuce dance together and look gorgeous, Epel hauled a food table, Ortho was hyping Sebek in chugging down a bottle of juice, much like the girls that gathered with them.

Back to Jack, man stumbles upon a quite nicely dressed specialist. Immediately Jack puts the excuse that 'she just got lost' and asks for directions. Except that the guy seems quite suspicious when leading Jack towards the ball location.

Because they didn't go the same route.

Jack is a bit taken aback when the guy tries to attack him, but he defends himself with a spell and so it starts the fight. Thankfully, even when in fairy form, the concealing potion was kept, which Jack was infinitely grateful for as he called for the rest of the team.

But the guy, who reveals himself as Prince Mandor, doesn't let down so easily, able to quickly knock out of the way Jack as he uses the gloomix stone in the form of a glowing collar hid under the coat, to summon a big monster out of the armour statues laying throughout the school.

The prediction was made true in the end, but that didn't stop the group from reuniting and all of them to put a face to the culprit.

Immediately it gets to a big fight as the monster leaves towards the ball. They also had to stop it in time, even so, they didn't have time, nor power to hold against a gloomix power up.

And in true villain fashion, Mandor reveals that he hated fairies from here, who always stole the spotlight from specialists. NRC fairies especially, who were all stuck up jerks. He hated them with a passion, to the point he wanted to put all of NRC to shame.

So our group decides to do a convergence spell, but not the way one may think. They all decide to aim at the collar with different beam attacks, overcharging it with power and thus destroying it.

The prince doesn't give out so easily and manages to flee via running. Jack wanted to run after him, but he was tired and Deuce warned that midnight was coming close. Epel found the gloomix stone smashed on the ground, so he grabbed the shards with him, together using their library marks to get to the library and flee the place.

Trein welcomes them back and the group all collectively are tired. But they present the gloomix stone shards. Nonetheless, Trein congratulates them on their good work. Lucius even gives them all a smol nuzzle. :D But even so, looking at the shards, Trein realises that the stone was made by a very powerful dark magic user, if not a dark magic entity. The price managed to run out of their hands, but right now, they got the gloomix stone shattered. So it was a victory still.

The next day, there are many cheers for the 2nd year group, who apparently managed to defeat the monster that threatened the ball. It was a bit of a collective saltiness from our first year group, because they work their asses for weeks, only to find the real culprit and prevent him from summoning such powerful monsters again. By a short research, it was clear that once the gloomix stone was shattered, the monster was gone, so in reality, they did all the work. Oh they were VERY salty about.

And Trein rightfully tells them that their battle is not over. They need to grow more powerful, not more popular. Begrudgingly, Trein declares himself as their mentor. As the spirit of the aincent library, he holds secrets for far more powerful spells and powers that an NRC graduate could only fantom about, let alone know about their existence and also pursuing them. This library constantly moved around under Sage Island via the secret tunnels, and not anyone could accces it. So for the team to have each a pass, it was quite the feat.

So of course, because they were in no position to accuse someone, let alone a royalty, the first years decided to take up on the offer and defeat prince Mandor and whoever is helping him reek havoc in here.

That's when season 1 ends.

next season

other seasons: S2, S3, S4, S5, S6.

[geddyqueer]

oh oh oh i'm also living through a historic weather thingie right now! we've reached enforced lockdown levels of Fucken Wimdy. and rainy.

which is actually common here lol so we're, you know, prepared. we'll get hit hard but there should only be material casualties, we're good at keeping ourselves safe from big bad weather.

still, this particular bad weather boy is. pretty big!! and actually heading straight for us! as generally unfazed as we are to our big bad weather boys, it's still rare they get so close, so this'll be my first time actually experiencing the literal eye of a hurricane in my lifetime, so this still weirdly kinda feels like something of a big deal lol

omg anon weather buddies!!! i'm weird and i love experiencing extreme weather. there's something so romantic about standing at the window watching the storm... but there's a limit, lol. i hope you have some good stuff to read if the power goes out! stay safe!!! and lmk you're okay afterwards :3c