#is this self-indulgent? this is self-indulgent

[alleesaur]

Hello Realm! A brief showcase of different oc regions

Song: 안녕 아희 (feat.UNI)

[bluetoothinmyveins]

Computer robot girl who flashes fake warnings and errors just to get your attention. You look over just to see the corner of an error message pop up, but when you actually go and look, everything is fine. She's whirring and spinning like she should and there hasn't even been a device issue.

But it keeps happening. You brush it off at first, thinking it's just.. something that'll go away. You give her a restart. And it keeps happening. You fish through all her external cables, checking each inch of them to make sure they're perfect. Nothing seems wrong.

But she keeps throwing up warning signs. You cannot figure out what is wrong. But you do notice she does throw them less when you're checking her cords. You assume, of course, one of her ports might be damaged.

And then when you pry her open, finally, she gets quiet with those errors and notifications. You think it was just.. something making contact, or something. It seems fine.

She gets worse, though. She's spitting out error upon error upon error every time you try and use her. She will not let you get anything done.

Until you get into her again. Fish around in her insides and then you realize. She's totally played you. She got you hook, line, and sinker. She's putting out genuine error messages now. She's into you rooting around in her insides. That's all she wanted; your devout, sole attention.

[fallenneziah]

This is very beautiful.

Who are these people…

[wolfythewitch]

All that debate a while back about what subject Jon would teach if he was a professor, what if I disregarded all of that and made it purely self indulgent. What if he taught animation. What if he taught Philippine art

[agendratum]

something is bugging seungmin

[beemosketches]

finally

[justvea18]

The one I loved most

[phyrophoenix]

I drew this on a whim lmao

[azuries]

so long, and goodnight 🥀 ⚰️

[orch1daceae-angel]

i'm exploding you with my mind this is adorable. sobbing

By Choice or By Accident (Wanderer/Reader)

Spoilers for Interlude Chapter: Act III Inversion of Genesis

i made the executive decision that the traveler fucks around a bit and takes a good while longer to decipher what scara changed with irminsul and wow, that's a convenient amount of time for him to get real soft on someone huh-

(also i believe scara says he doesn't like sweets only because ei DOES like sweets and he secretly loves them you cannot change my mind, back off)

AO3 LINK

Wanderer/Reader

5,258 Words - SFW

Nothing heinous. Fluff, 2 seconds of Angst, meandering narrative, skipping time a little bit, Reader is a candy maker. Very indulgent, don't take this seriously.

---

Despite its status as a hub of commerce, it’s rather obvious when a new face arrives in the Grand Bazaar. Even more so when they’re dressed like that - soft blues against striking azure, a wide hat and carefully placed body armor to show martial skill. 

When the grocer across the way brings home a straggler, your initial thought is to be wary. There’s an unsettled quiet around him as he keeps his head ducked low and his face carefully hidden. The protection on his arms and shins suggests some martial skill, yet there’s no vision to be seen on his person. 

In the beginning, you’re wary - and rightfully so. Then his head lifts and his eyes move around the bazaar before he realizes you’re staring, and something fundamental changes in that split second. The air around him shifts, the guarded expression in his eyes bleeds away, and you’re left staring at excited eyes and a smile that shines with both anticipation and trepidation. 

The grocer’s new stray becomes a fixture. One that you quietly watch from your stall of handmade sweets, your gaze occasionally broken by the excited child or curious adult, all of whom are the sources of your livelihood here. But even your regulars find it hard to keep your attention when something so interesting is just across the way. 

Initially, the first word you’d use to describe him is untouchable. Like something priceless to be placed on a shelf. Only to look at, never to hold in your hands and sully it with your touch. Even as he works diligently at the grocer and displays less than fragile tendencies, you still can’t keep yourself from marveling at the otherworldly sort of perfection. 

Then, just like that, it’s swept away in the span of a short interaction. 

While you’ve overheard his quiet arguments with the grocer about not accepting pay, you know for certain he’s been tipped on deliveries to their customers. It’s what gives him the means to tentatively cross the walkway to your stall, stand a respectful distance away, and let pretty violet eyes wander over what you have on display for the day. 

And they are pretty. A color you’ve never seen before, even in a city like Sumeru where fabrics in all manner of hues are commonplace. You’re not entirely sure that someone could accurately recreate such a shade of purple. 

Quietly, as if to keep from imposing on you, he steps a little closer and squeezes the pouch of mora in front of him with a grip so tight his knuckles turn just a little lighter than the rest of his pale skin. It’s painfully obvious that he’s nervous, but his chin lifts and his chest expands with an inhale, and you’re impressed with the bravery he’s showing to simply peruse a candy stall. 

“Please recommend something to me!”

He says it like he’s about to run into battle - and your heart that was wary at first melts. Any caution is thrown to the wind as your shoulders relax, and a smile spreads across your face, and you ask, “What do you like?”

To your surprise, he clams up for a moment, twisting at the ties of the mora pouch until you’re certain the ropes are going to unravel. The last thing you expect is a quiet, “...I’m not sure.”

Okay. You can handle that, as strange as it is. Going into your usual sales pitch with gusto, you try your hardest not to be distracted by the way he cocks his head and leans in, listening with rapt attention as you point out each little piece, which were handmade and which you had brought him, which were your favorites and which ones most people seemed to gravitate toward. 

“These ones aren’t popular, but I like them. They’re sour, but once you get to the middle, there’s a sweetness that chases it away. Just don’t eat too many, they’ll make your mouth sore!”

“It’s sour, but you say they’re good?” His fingers pinch his chin in thought as he looks at each flavor you have of the small selection. It’s no use keeping a large stock when its audience is few and far between. “Sour on the outside, sweet on the inside, huh?”

“It makes the sweetness that much nicer if you can make it through the tough bit. It’s kind of like life, isn’t it? Once you make it through the difficult parts, the moments that are softer are that much better when you’re in them.”

Violet eyes watch you in wonder, lips gently parted as he mulls over your impromptu advice. With warm cheeks, you busy yourself with straightening the rows, the smallest bit of embarrassment making your fingers shake. They don’t look any neater when you’ve finished.

He picks one of everything you indicate as your preference, carefully counting out the coins and giving a little extra that you try to place back in his hand. But he grasps your wrist until your palm is up, pushing the extra coins there and using his free hand to curl your fingers around them securely. The smile on his face is wider than any you’ve seen, cutting into his cheeks and making the corners of his eyes squint in its wake. 

“Just for being kind, that’s all.” And his touch lingers for a moment long enough to make your heart skip, your fingers itching to grasp at his own so he could stay just a little longer. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

“I don’t think you’ll get through all that candy in a night.” Or he could, you’re in no place to judge him for it. Certainly, children much smaller than him have performed that feat before. 

In return, he smiles sheepishly and focuses on his hands holding yours, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of your wrist. There’s no doubt he can feel your heart racing from his touch and his presence, his soft grin and the slight flush on the apples of his cheeks. “Maybe not. But… just to talk to you? I’d like to know you if you’d let me.”

If he notices your persistent giddiness for the remainder of the bazaar’s open hours, he mercifully doesn’t make any comment on it. He simply returns the next day with praises over what you’d sold him the day before, exclaiming that the sour candies were his favorite, and an earnest question. 

“Could you teach me how to make this?”

And how could you say no? When his hands were fisted at his sides to hide how they shake at the prospect of such a simple question, there’s no way you could deny something so… sweet.

That evening, after he closes up with the grocer, he crosses the pathway that separates you and offers to help you carry your goods home for the day. It’s with great pleasure you gesture to a house just two doors down - your home and workshop all in one. He doesn’t let you carry your goods, anyway.

“It must be nice, living so close. I’m glad to see it.”

“Glad?” You ask, watching carefully at how he carries a box with one arm that you often have to drag across the ground on a nightly basis. He must be deceptively strong. The hat he wears is tucked beneath his other arm, leaving his smooth hair a little mussed after a day of wearing it. 

His head bobs as he watches you unlock the door with a key from your pocket, the hinges groaning as you step inside and urge him to follow as you work to light the lamps. The answer you asked for comes as the room illuminates. “I’d hate for you to have to walk so far at night. It’s not very safe.”

“True, but the bazaar is one of the safest places in the city. And I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Spending your life somewhere doesn’t always make it safe,” he pauses, just long enough to set the box of goods down on the table that dominates the center of your home, “but it’s not really my place to be overbearing about your safety. I’m sorry if that was too much.”

“No! It was… nice. Thank you for caring.” The words strike him into stillness, his hand resting on the lid of the box, thumb curling around the edge to press into the wood. His other hand rubs over his chest, just beneath the dangling ornament and pinion that jingle slightly in the comfortable silence. 

The swallow he makes is audible, a show of that nervousness that comes when he seems to be faced with sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with. To his credit, his voice doesn’t waver, even a little. “You’ve been nothing but nice to me. Of course I’d care, even a little.” And that endearing pink comes back again, barely visible in the lights that are just beginning to grow stronger as the flame catches the wicks.

“You’ve been nice, too. Give yourself a little credit.” 

Outside, other merchants are making their way home. The sound of carts and laughter trickles into the room, breaking the tension that’s somehow formed despite such an innocuous topic. Clearing your throat, you ask, “You know, I don’t actually know your name. You’ve never told me.”

While the tension is gone for you, it doubles down on him as his shoulders clench, and he pointedly looks away. The far corner of the room suddenly becomes impossibly interesting to him, at least compared to how you begin to move closer to unpack the box. 

“That’s because… I don’t have one. I’m just a wanderer. Any name I might’ve had, I don’t remember it anymore.”

“Do you not remember by choice, or by accident?”

You don’t miss the way his eyes follow your movements as you bring the sour candies out. Pointedly, you pull a few from their bag and push them across the table to him. As if he were afraid they’d disappear, his fingers wrap around them and drag them closer. One pops in his mouth, and he waits until the sweetness makes itself known before he finally answers.

“A little of both, I think.” The candy clacks against his teeth, running along his molars from one side to the other, as if he’s preventing a single spot from being scoured by the sourness. Perhaps it’s also a tactic to delay what comes next, something you only realize when he says it. “You should know… I’m not exactly human. I’m-... I’m a puppet.”

“Okay.”

“...Okay?”

Giving him time to ruminate over that, you finish unloading the box before stowing it away beneath the table. It gives you enough time to formulate a tactful response. Palms on the table, you lean to get the weight off your feet from standing all day, and explain yourself. “That doesn’t change anything. I still like you, I’ll still teach you. You must’ve lived a long time then, huh?”

He doesn’t give you a number, and you don’t exactly ask, but the way he exhales until his lungs are empty tells you that in his mind, it might have been a few too many years to walk through. Has he wandered all that time? Alone? It doesn’t feel right to ask - so you don’t. 

Instead, as you begin to lay out supplies for tomorrow’s stock, you quietly make a promise to yourself that if you can help it, perhaps he won’t need to use the term lonely to describe himself ever again. 

—

When you first opened your stall, it was commonplace for you to grow sick after contacting so many people on a daily basis. It was just expected, it came with the territory, and you only needed a handful of months for your body to grow used to it. Nowadays, you hardly find yourself feeling ill at all.

Then there were days like today, where the world is too bright, and your skin feels too hot and too cold, uncomfortable no matter your position. The softness of your bed curls around you, cradling your aching joints as you struggle to maintain a comfortable body temperature. The windows facing the street show that the sun is already risen, though at this time of day, not as much of it makes it down to the bazaar, even at the outskirts as you are.

Wrapped in your blankets in the throes of a cold chill is how the wanderer finds you. His steps into your home are tentative - you’d given him a key, and you thank yourself for the foresight. Looking into your bedroom, his expression goes from curiosity to something that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than fear.

“What’s wrong? Look at me-”

“I’m okay.” Talking makes your head feel thick and muddled, stuffed too full of the meager thoughts it requires to get words out. But he’s kneeling next to your head now, hands hovering over you but not quite touching, like he’s unsure of what to do next. It lightens your mood a little, seeing him fret like this. “Just a little sick - it goes around this time of year.”

“What do you need me to do? Do you need food? Have you had anything to drink today? Hang on, let me get a washcloth.”

And he’s on his feet, moving to your kitchen and out of your ability to call him back. A quiet laugh leaves you as you roll onto your back, snuggling beneath blankets and listening as he sifts through your cabinets to find a bowl, then fill it with cool water to bring back to you. His eyes are more focused on the bowl as he enters, determined not to spill it until he’s able to set it down on your bedside table. 

Before you can say a word, the back of his fingers press to your forehead, and he hisses through his teeth. There’s no need to say that you’re burning up, not with how he hurriedly wrings out the cloth and folds it delicately on your forehead. Even chilled as you are, it feels like heaven, and you all but melt into the blankets as the fingers of his hand linger along your brow. 

“Better?”

“Mm… yes, thank you.”

“Okay. It’s okay.” He sounds more like he’s reassuring himself, rather than you. There’s something haunted in his eyes, something that’s clawing at the back of his mind. Far be it from your place to ask, but the fever has lowered your inhibitions, and you can’t help but lick the chapped dryness of your lips before asking what you wish to know. 

“Why are you afraid? Look at you, you’re terrified.”

The answer is immediate, maybe even instinctual. “I don’t know.” His eyes linger over your face, trailing over the dark circles beneath your eyes and the weariness that lingers. “My mind is telling me terrible things, almost like I’ve… lost someone like this. But I’ve never-... I haven’t been around anyone long enough to care. Not like this.”

He cares. About you. Sure, that was obvious enough at this point, but the fact that he puts it into words so candidly makes your heart flutter nervously. It’s been a long time since anyone would go to these lengths for you in your time of need, and for it to be him… It makes you feel leagues better already.

“I’m… I’ll make you something to eat. And get you something to drink. I’ll be back.”

The words tumble out of him, one after another, with little control. He’s nearly out the door by the time you comprehend that he’d been pink in the cheeks, fingers nervously twirling the golden feather on his chest. He cares. What a novel thought.

It doesn’t take him terribly long to return. Just long enough for your eyes to droop closed and your mind to wander off into dreams of pretty violet eyes and the faint scent of flowers that you’ve never come across before. Soft smiles, a hand running down your arm, a thumb across your cheek as a familiar voice urges you to reawaken. 

“Just a few bites, then you can sleep.”

Easy enough, when the spoon finds its way to your mouth of its own accord. Yet it’s not sentient - it’s held by lithe fingers that guide it steadily. At your back is his arm, helping you sit up so you don’t spill over your sheets. Quietly, you shift a little closer and bask in that faint floral smell that’s like nothing in Sumeru. The only way you can explain it is if you were describing the wanderer himself.

Drinking is an easy affair, thanks to the straw he’d somehow found you, and once he’s satisfied you’ve completed the tasks he’s laid out, so too does he lay you back on your bed. With distance comes a stark loneliness, and you reach for his hand as he stands from where he’d been kneeling. “Stay? Please?”

“Let me grab a chair at least. Your floor hurts.”

You want to tell him to just climb in your bed. To let you curl around him for all the comfort he can offer, greedily taking and taking because he’s always so willing to give. But the last bit of your self-control pulls you back in, releasing your grip to allow him to drag a chair across the floor to sit at your bedside with an exasperated smile. 

“Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Hm… Promise?”

“I swear it on my life. I’m not going anywhere.”

The last thought before you drift off is a quiet murmur of your heart repeating that he cares. About you, about your wellbeing. He’ll be here when your eyes open, hopefully with less of that fear he’s still holding onto. The washcloth on your forehead is changed, slim fingers wipe away stray water droplets, and all the while he hums a tune under his breath that sounds like the sweetest song.

—

The wanderer has only one devastating, debilitating flaw - he’s a worrier. 

Whether it’s after a long day and you’re bone tired, or you were too busy to eat lunch, or even if you’re just feeling a little ill, he has an incessant need to coddle. On anyone else, it wouldn’t be a good look. You’re a grown adult, you can take care of yourself, keep yourself safe and cared for. 

But something about the way he does it soothes any outrage you could possibly feel. Insistent, quiet, offered with a smile that seems almost pleading. And you know that while he’s making you dinner and taking on the duty of meticulously creating fruit-shaped candies for tomorrow’s weekend sale, it’s for his own sake as much as it is yours. 

And so, if it keeps him smiling as he carefully pours soup into a bowl for you, you’re more than willing to let him get away with it. 

Chin propped on your hand, elbow on the table, you let your eyes drift closed as the weariness of the day catches up to you. The festival over the weekend was one of the biggest in a long time, and your preparations were wearing you impossibly thin. It meant longer evenings to finish creating stock, longer days to account for new tourists, and all the stress that comes with it. 

Not to mention the last straggling bits of your illness that had kept you homebound for days, still lingering after two long weeks. Your muscles still felt weak, your head still fuzzy.

But the wanderer had been a huge help, especially as the grocer had all but kicked him out of his stall to send over to yours. The grocer had been trying to foist him off on you for weeks now, and he hadn’t really needed to try that hard at all. 

The sound of ceramic sliding across the table in front of you is the indication he’s dropped your food off, and you crack your eyes open just in time to see the golden pinion of his ornament dangling in front of your face as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. 

Both of you freeze. 

But he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. Instead, you reach with a shaking hand to the golden feather, grasping it lightly with your fingertips and rubbing your thumb along the subtle ridges. Your curiosity serves an alternate purpose; it keeps him close, prevents him from backing away from you. 

A sigh breezes along your scalp, humid from his breath, and a shiver from you breaks you both out of the odd trance. 

“I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, already anticipating the unwarranted apology for something you desperately wanted him to do again. Even standing above you, he looks incredibly small as his hands clutch at the opening of his kimono, worrying at the edges without a care for the wrinkles he’s creating. 

Letting the feather drop back to his chest, you reach for one of his fretting hands and hold it tight enough in your own that you can’t tell if the tremors come from you or him. It could even be both. Suddenly you’re filled with anticipation so strong it makes your stomach turn painfully. 

But it’s not bad. It’s welcomed, wanted. The only relief you know of is sought after with a simple question. “Could you do it again?”

“...Again?”

“If you’d like to. If it wasn’t a regretful accident.”

His lower lip disappears between his teeth for a moment, then pops out with a pink hue from the abuse. You’re only allowed a second to admire the shade before the only thing you can see is alabaster and violet, your view of the world cut off as he presses his lips to yours with a clumsiness that is borne from inexperience. 

A thud rocks the table from his palm hitting it, an attempt to brace himself as he leans further into you until he’s nearly climbed into your lap. A whine brushes across your cheek through his nose - a high-pitched, cracking sort of sound that’s sweeter to your ears than any song could be, any candy could taste. 

That evening, the wanderer becomes your wanderer. 

And the world seems more vibrant, the music of the festival is more joyous than anything you’ve ever heard. Your wanderer closes your stall and guides you to the theatre to watch Nilou spin and sway. Her movements are nothing short of hypnotic, but hardly enough to catch your attention as you lean against him and let your eyes follow the cut of his jawline, the brush of his hair against his ear, the subtle pink of his blush as he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. 

For an evening, the entirety of Teyvat feels like it’s in harmony. He smiles down at you, and the stars above shine just a little bit brighter. An arm winds around your waist to hold you closer, and the lyrics to the music lose their meaning, the tune grows meandering and unimportant compared to how he smiles so, so gently. 

If asked, you’re not sure that you’d be able to think of a single thing you wouldn’t give up to recklessly chase after this feeling with him. Safe, warm, loved. It’d been there from the beginning, quietly growing subtle roots until it ingrained itself too deep to remove - as if you’d want to. 

That night, you nearly tell him you love him. Something stays your tongue, but you’re not quite sure what it might have been. Tomorrow, you promise yourself as he brings you to your door and kisses you so sweetly that you can do nothing but melt in his hold. Tomorrow, you resolve as you watch him backpedal down the street, giving you that smile you favor so much. 

Tomorrow, you promise the following day as the market quiets following such a busy event, unwilling to break the peace for a confession you’re not entirely confident he’s ready for. Instead, you prop your elbow on your stall’s counter and watch as he smiles at the grocer. As he squats to the level of a child that’s examining fruits, and offers one of the familiar candies from your stall to him. 

Over the child’s head, he catches your eye, and the placating smile turns to one that’s teeth and pink cheeks, embarrassment at having been caught with such softness but not ashamed enough to stop. In the heat of the afternoon, the quiet murmur of the bazaar, the daylight stretching the shadows long as the sun crosses its apex and begins to descend, everything feels the closest to perfection you could ever achieve.

Tomorrow doesn’t come. 

Or rather, it does, but he’s missing. The grocer mentions he’d stepped out of the city to make a run for sunsettias, then left on an errand with a golden-haired newcomer and their floating companion. The Traveler, you recognize vaguely from gossip through the grapevine. They’d keep him safe, surely, but you can’t help but feel a looming sense of dread when he doesn’t return that evening. 

For the first time in months, you eat your dinner alone. 

—

The tables are turned, for once. It’s you that worries over his well-being, so much so that you close your stand for the day and pace around your home like a caged animal. Certainly he must be fine, but he would’ve mentioned it to you if he were leaving, wouldn’t he? It feels wrong to not be aware of his presence, to not simply turn your head and have him at the corner of your vision as a steady presence. 

The grocer stops by to drop a few pieces of produce off, an attempt to check on you and reassure you of the wanderer’s safety with the Traveler. It does little to assuage your fears - nothing does, until the door opens and it’s filled with a familiar silhouette.

Except it’s… not. 

There’s a different set to his shoulders. A tension that lingers for a moment too long before it bleeds away at the sight of you. But his eyes are still the same, taking you in with immeasurable reverence that doesn’t fade even as he steps into your home that’s dimmer than the midday market outside. One, two, three long strides bring him to you, close enough to yank you to his chest and hold you impossibly tight with both arms. 

“I’m sorry.”

Even the tone is different. It’s lower, more tentative, almost as if he expects you to refuse him. Adamant, you wrap your arms tight around his waist and link your hands together, squeezing with everything you can muster as you mumble into the fabric over his chest. “You should be. You had me so worried.”

“That’s… I’m sorry for that, too.”

“You’re sorry for something else?” Pulling your head back, you look up at him. Nothing could have prepared you for the way his face falls, his lip drawing between his teeth as he takes in the sight of your confusion and weariness. 

There is no stalling further. His hand comes to the back of your head, bringing you back close again as he speaks over your shoulder. “I need to ask you something. Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth. Even if you think it will hurt me.”

“And if it will hurt me?”

“It’ll hurt more if I don’t ask it at all.” His chest beneath your cheek shudders with his exhalation, its wavering shaking you to your core as you realize it’s tinged with tears once he continues. “If someone walked in here that looked and sounded just like me, but they were inarguably an evil person… would you still want to stay with them?”

“Looks and sounds like you…?”

“If you couldn’t tell the difference, beyond the knowledge that for the entirety of their existence, so many of the actions they’d taken were for horrible, inexcusable reasons.”

It shouldn’t be a simple answer. The question he’s posed to you has so many layers despite its surface-level simplicity. But with the way he looks at you - wild, desperate, clinging to the hope for an answer that lets him stay close to you - it only takes you a moment to come to a conclusion that settles into place like a key turning a lock. Smooth, easy, with a satisfying click.

“Whoever that person might’ve been… they’re not who you are now.” His breath hitches, stilling under where you rest your head. Whether that’s the right answer or the wrong, you’re unsure, but you’re too far to backtrack now. “I know who you are. People are allowed to change, that’s just what humans do.”

“I’m not human.”

He’s not. He’s told you so himself that he was created, not born. But it’s easy enough to forget that fact when he’s here in front of you, trembling in your arms and clinging desperately to the normalcy you’ve unknowingly provided. The front he puts up is so convincing that you’re not sure it’s even false anymore - he’s experienced all there is to being a human.

“But you’re close enough, aren’t you? You laugh, and you hurt. You’re hurting right now. And the most important part of being a human is love.” Pulling back enough to look at him, to note the shine of tears and the harshness of his bite on his bottom lip to hide its quivering, you ask, “Do you feel love?”

“Yes. So much, it’s killing me.”

“Ah, you just need to let it out then. Of course, I’d stay with you. If it’s like you say, then there’s a long road ahead, and I’m happy to walk it with you, if you’ll let me.”

Choked laughter leaves him, high-pitched and disbelieving. It signals the floodgates of his tears falling, and he releases one arm from you to rub at his eyes to catch them before they fall. It’s a futile effort, one you’re happy to see, even as he surges forward to kiss you, wetting your cheeks with his own. 

Against your lips he murmurs, muffled and sloppy, “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-”

As if you would have left him after coming to know him like this. It only hurts for a second that the thought had even crossed his mind to doubt - and perhaps that doubt will creep back in over the coming days. When things are difficult or when stirrings of a life past-lived come back to rear its head, threatening the tenuous peace he’s found. 

There are times that he looks at you with eyes that aren’t as familiar. They’re darker, edged sharply, but it’s still him. A different facet shining in the light, but if you tilt your head, you can see the core of him that lies beneath. Still the same, no matter how he refracts it. As he comes and goes, it feels as if a new page turns each time - some new, some old. A wildness exists that seeps through, visible only when he holds you a little too tight, kisses you a little too hard. 

Unsteadiness is something he’s worn since the first day you’ve met him, and with the return of memories he’d lost, it doesn’t settle over him as often as it once had. Only when you notice the shift does he avoid your gaze, the sheepish little smile lifting the weight on your heart, and his in turn.

He’s trying. That’s enough, you think.

[barrenclan]

"The Last Ruby-Red Drop of Flame"

This is the first epilogue of PATFW! There will be ten of these in total, released every Tuesday and Friday until they're done. The first one here is about Redstar!

I wanted to make a note in the story that Redstar's anxiety has not gone away - it's not something that could be magically fixed by taking a leadership position. But she has learned better ways to cope with her worries, and people that she can lean on. And she's developed a stronger confidence in herself as well!

You may notice the title of this story doesn't come from anywhere in the text. For the epilogues, mostly as a self-indulgent treat to myself, I've taken quotes from some of my favorite science fiction short stories and used part of them as the titles. Not all of the quotes are textually relevant to the epilogues that they're being used for, although some of them are; but they are all impactful/personally meaningful stories to me. PATFW is partially inspired by some of these short stories, as is my whole writing career in general. You can read many of these short stories for free online, and I highly encourage you to check them out.

This one is taken from Isaac Asimov's story "Nightfall": “And now that they were there, the last flash of Beta, the last ruby-red drop of flame flickered feebly over a humanity that had left only stark, universal fear!”

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[strawberryfloofs]

tw: mentions of neglect/abuse

carer with a traumatized age regressor they know they're helping to heal everytime they slip.

never received toys/were given very few toys as a kid? bubbas spoiling you in all the toys you want! if their kiddo is a little more shy and feeling guilty, they'll notice their little one eyeing a toy. "do you want it puppy? no need to feel bad, i just wanna give you everything you deserve"

went without food in public? carer will always order something for you, you never have to watch them eat while you have nothing. "oh honey I would never~ not only is that mean, but you gotta grow big and strong like me!"

went without food/snacks in private? your caregiver always makes sure they stock up on your favorite snacks and brands- no matter how specific they are. there's no shame in only eating a certain brand or flavor of chips. there's always groceries in the house and they're happy to cook for you, wanting to make sure you're safe AND fed. "are you hungy? I can get my sweetheart their favorite snack until the pastas done?"

had bad physical treatment? they would NEVER even THINK about laying a hand on you. if you misbehave or act up, they understand you're just in littlespace. like real kids, emotions can be hard and some moments arent good. sometimes kids like to test boundaries, there's nothing wrong with that. they won't let it slide and will issue lines, time outs, and stuff like early bedtime or shorter playtime- but nothing physical or mentally damaging. "angel I know you're all upset and shouting at bubba, but I need you to sit in the chair for 5 minutes. we don't yell."

missed out on a lot of childhood experiences? that's okay! your cg is soooo happy to integrate anything into their routine. whether it's storytime, going to the park, holiday celebrations, they're happy to accomodate! "oh you wanna have a bubba baby book read before your nap? of course little one!"

touch starved and wanting a lot of physical affection? they'll love on you SO much to try and make up for it! cuddles, pats, carries, boops, you got it! "awww does munchkin need a hug? cmere"

weren't treated the best emotionally? they understand how it can impact you. your carer always reminds you that you're not a burden, it wasn't your fault, and they truly do love you. they're not lying to you, they don't hate you, there's no maliciousness or ulterior motives- just pure love and care. "I know it was a lot, and I'm sorry you had to live through that angel- but I'm glad you're with me now. As long as I'm here, and as long as you'll let me- I won't let anyone treat you like that again. I pinky promise, my little love. Always, and forever."

Icl, this was very self indulgent to me- but I hope anyone who can sadly relate feels atleast a little bit of comfort and wholesomeness from this. I believe you. You're strong.

[mikeywayarchive]

PalaSharp, Milan, Italy // Nov 3rd 2007 // Lucia noneofyourbusiness

[3lloa]

Being single and seeing your favorite celebrities have a romantic relationship with their partner makes me want to freak out.

I want to share clothes with my future loved one.

you know its a good couple when both the girl AND the boy serve major cunt

[ang3ltine]

𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨! - ft. Se mi x freader

⤷ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: you guys explore abandoned places and stream together, also more of biker Se mi

warnings: mentions of ghosts, cuts and injuries, suggestive comments by Se mi

author's notes: omg I had so much fun writing this!! Consider this as self indulgence as I got inspired by Sam and Colby's old abandoned exploraon videos.

✰ 𝖥𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗏 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 '𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.

✰ 𝖲𝖾 𝗆𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗆𝖾𝗍. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌. 𝖮𝖿𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖿 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗂��� 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾.

✰ 𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖲𝖾 𝗆𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗇-𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 , 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌.

✰ 𝖲𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗈𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗍, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗒.

✰ 𝖲𝖾 𝗆𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎'𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌.

✰ 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖳𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾𝗌.

✰ 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖾'𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒.

"Don't you think the floor boards are a little too rotten? I don't wanna fall through," you ask Se mi in a worried tone as she helps you over the wooden planks.

"They look fine to me," Se mi shrugged as she continues going forward with your hand in hers, while you filmed with your camera.

✰𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝖾nt 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗅. 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺.

✰ Usually yall would stream on Twitch and your fans would leave comments in chat. Mostly they'd point out figures or odd things that you guys didn't see whenever you guys would stream.

"A figure behind Se mi? What??"

True enough you guys would spot a pale figure peeping out the corner of the door behind Se mi.

✰ 𝖮𝗆𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾.

✰ 𝖠𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝖺 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍! 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌.

While Se mi set up the ghost equipment, you would sneak up to her and hug her from behind. You take a peek over her shoulder and waved to your fans with a cheery smile on your face.

The twitch chat were gushing on how cute you guys were as Se mi turned around and gave you a peck on your cheek.

Turning the camera away for a second she leans down to whisper in your ear in her low, sultry voice " wanna have fun in the parents room?", she teasingly suggested while you smacked her arm playfully.

"Grosss, are you crazy??," you both were giggling mess as she starts peppering your face with kisses.

✰ Oh God , there was this one time you guys got chased by a Cult and Yall were scared for your life cause hello?? What was a cult doing in the middle of the woods?

Se mi had already packed up the ghost equipment before you could warn her.

"Let's get the fuck out of here before they catch us ", she whispered quietly. Grabbing your hand as you went to turn your camera off, ending the stream abruptly.

You guys both snuck downstairs, moving quickly but quietly as possible. The wooden board has suddenly snapped beneath you, resulting in your foot getting stuck.

"Shit! Uhh stay calm, I'll pull out your foot ok?," she gently reassured you as she stoops down to pull your foot out from the gap. You bit down on your arm as she tried her best not to hurt you any further.

The sound of the chanting was coming closer while Se mi finally got you out. Swiftly picking you up in her arms , she made a break for the backdoor of the house.

After successfully making it out of the house without being caught. You both burst into laughter as she ran past the trees towards your camping area.

"Holy shit!! Who the fuck were those people?!", Semi whispered shouted just in case there were stray cult members nearby. She had started patching up your wound as you let out a shaky laugh.

"I have no idea, but I'm just glad they didn't catch us. You think we should apologise to chat tomorrow? I really just wanna get out of here".

"Yeah sure babe", she says softly as she gives your lips a sweet kiss.

After packing up the campsite, you guys start boarding her bike and speed down the wide road. Into the desolate night.

Ps: I know this was super short but I hope you guys enjoy! ♡