#its more impactful that way when hes like. Pulled into his quest and all of this . like tp spoilers i guess LOL but the kids getting taken

[nomairuins]

are there ppl who dont like the opening to tp..... okay ummmm anyways

[euthymiya]

hero’s compensation ft. diluc ragnvindr

in which you’re walking home, unaware of the news of a pesky samachurl that’s snuck into the city. luckily, the darknight hero is there to rescue you. except one thing: you didn’t expect him to be such a familiar face

contains: female reader ; childhood friends to lovers ; reader is attacked by a samachurl ; references to diluc’s story quest as the darknight hero ; so much tension lol ; lots of kissing ; confessions ; getting together ; this is a late bday offering for the first man that every genshin player falls for

in your defense, you hadn’t heard of the news to avoid this part of the city until the knights could take care of the little…threat that happens to lurk around the streets. you hadn’t noticed the samachurl at first—it noticed you, caging you with thorny vines in a small enclosure.

you’re doomed, you think—samachurls are small, yes, but still dangerous.

you dodge as the staff in its hand swings at you, a quick yet clumsy effort as you start to get tired. running away isn’t an option—not only because you’re trapped, but also because you wouldn’t want to risk bringing the monster deeper into the city. it’s rare for them to find their way past the gates, but it happens every once in a while. not often enough, however, that you’re prepared to handle this situation.

and then there’s a flash—something quick and sharp that swings past you towards the creature.

but unlike the samachurl’s staff, this particular object seems to purposely dodge you, hitting the creature square on its head as it stumbles back and shrieks. a dark (but very familiar) silhouette lunges past you, picking up what you realize is a claymore before swinging once more, the small body of the samachurl sent flying at the impact before slumping onto the ground, limp.

your hand is clutched to your heart, fisting at the material around your collar as you heave labored breaths, in and out. in and out. in and out.

it’s over. your savior is a man who vaguely tickles at a part of your brain incessantly, but you’re too busy with the adrenaline and fear pumping through your veins to fully grasp why that is just yet.

it’s not until a gloved hand settles on your shoulder and a voice calls to you, do you break out of your daze. “are you alright?” a low whisper asks you.

diluc. you look up, shocked and still slightly panicked as you blink at him. “wha—”

“this way! i saw a figure, i’m sure it’s the darknight hero for certain this time!”

the sound of footsteps and a distant voice interrupts you, and before you can figure out what’s happened, diluc has pulled you away, pressing you against the tight space between a stone wall and a staircase and caging you as the pounding footsteps run past you. he lets out a shaky sigh as the sounds become more and more distant, relief sagging into his shoulders once he’s sure the knights hadn’t seen you.

you’re not too worried about that, though. there are more pressing matters on your mind.

like that fact that he’s close. so close, that you can make out the small, ghost of a scar on his forehead from when you were kids. when he’d cut himself from the gravel as he chased after you and kaeya, fallen face first. you remember that day fondly—most of your memories with diluc are fond. some a little bittersweet, of course. long gone are the days where you could run freely with both brothers and have a good time, but memorable all the same.

the man you’ve grown up with is supposedly the same mysterious man you hear about whispered on the streets. the darknight hero—some praise him, in awe of his abilities and his work. others, not so much. the knights, for example, don’t take to his vigilante role too kindly.

you inhale sharply, still pressed close to him as you stare at him with wide eyes.

“so it’s you,” you murmur, stepping closer in the already tight enclosure and invading his space. he doesn’t mind, not really. it’s a slippery slope to press yourself against him like this, but you’ve never had a track record for taking easy routes.

“it’s me,” he confirms, eyeing you carefully, like he’s making sure that’s alright with you.

it is. nothing diluc does could be a problem for you, not when he’s saved your life and not when he’s so close you can practically feel him as he breathes in front of you.

“how did you know to find me?” you ask, looking him in the eyes until finally, he breaks, casting his gaze anywhere else but you as he clears his throat.

“i heard there was a samachurl in the area and—”

“diluc,” you say unimpressed, “i know you better than that.”

you know the answer. you know him better than anyone, in fact. you’ve grown up knowing him, knowing what he loves and hates. what makes him laugh and cry. the softness that still lingers underneath the hardened exterior that the world’s cruelty has layered over his innocence. nobody knows diluc like you do, just like nobody knows you like him.

he knew you were here, not because of some samachurl or some mild threat. you. because somehow, diluc has always made himself present, made himself available at even the most inopportune times when it comes to you.

that time you almost drowned at the lake by the winery as kids. that time you strayed too far and ran into a cryo slime by accident. that time you fell trying to pick grapes and twisted your ankle. that time you walked home late at night and got cornered by a drunk man from the tavern.

he’s always there, somehow, for some reason, always knows just when you need someone and makes sure it’s him who steps up to be the person.

“i was following you,” he admits, tense as he avoids your gaze.

“following me?” you gasp, “how scandalous! do you follow all young women as they walk the streets?”

“of course not,” he frowns, looking mildly bewildered, “i was following you.”

“i see,” you nod slowly, “worried i was incapable of walking myself home, were you?”

neither of you mention that you were incapable of walking yourself home tonight. his face twists into a sheepish expression as he rubs his neck awkwardly.

“it’s not that i find you incapable—i just…it’s just a precautionary measure for the sake of ensuring—”

“oh diluc, would it kill you to say you were worried about me?” you snort.

“quit being difficult,” he grumbles.

“forgive me,” you sigh dramatically, “i thought i could perhaps be clever and hear you admit you care about me. alas, it seems such a day won’t come any time soon.”

he flushes a light pink. it contrasts beautifully with his red hair, making your fingers itch to reach over and pinch his cheek. but he rolls his eyes, finally looking back at you and looking right into you with his piercing gaze as he says, “i was worried about you. does that satisfy you? not one day goes by that i’m not worried about you. you keep me up at night, enough that i’ve taken the safety of this city into my own hands.”

he stuns you into silence. it’s been so many years, so many years since he grew from that young boy you met. his hands became rougher, his shoulders became broader, his arms became stronger. he’s gone from practicing with a wooden sword to wielding that heavy greatsword of his. he’s not naive anymore, far less trusting and far more stoic. his dreams have changed and his ambitions aren’t what they used to be—but he’s still the same diluc that stole your breath and suffocated your throat even as a child.

you love him deeply, so much that it aches between your heart and lungs, in a spot only he can fit. a spot where he can squeeze against both organs, stop the beating in your chest and knock the air out of you. it’s dangerous, leaving you uncomfortably vulnerable.

so you do what you know best to counteract that strange pressure in your chest that makes it difficult to breathe, to speak, to do anything. you throw on a smile on your face and tease him to get under his skin, so that maybe, if he rolls his eyes at you, they won’t pierce into your soul as harshly.

“well it’s lovely to meet the darknight hero,” you grin, batting your lashes, “who’d have thought the city’s beloved master of the dawn winery was saving people from the shadows?”

“please don’t call me that,” he sighs, looking at you tiredly. the expression on his face makes you giggle. “it sounds awfully derivative to me.”

faintly, you’re aware that you’re still hidden in the corner behind the staircase, dead quiet in the middle of the night with just a sliver of space between you. you could just reach up and brush the bangs out of his face, maybe trace that scar you know so well, or even press the tip of your nose to his if you lean closer.

he seems to be aware of the proximity too, because his eyes dart to your lips for just a moment, inhaling sharply as he realizes just how close they are from touching his.

“what would you prefer i call you then?” you whisper.

he doesn’t say anything.

neither of you do, for a bit. just his eyes trained on yours as you both take shallow breaths, narrowly missing each others chests from grazing against one another as they rise and fall, rise and fall.

finally, he clears his throat.

you think he’ll say something—but he doesn’t. instead, he kisses you. enough is enough, he decides, and you’re compelled to agree. enough dancing around the wobbly line that separates you from friends and more than friends—you think it’s been enough years that neither of you do a good job of hiding the built up feelings anymore, anyway.

his lips are chapped. you can feel the stark difference between his and yours as they press up against your soft ones, disrupting your delicate existence with his roughness. it’s not unwelcome, though.

kissing diluc is blazingly warm. his lips, his body, his gloved hands, his breath, all of it is unbearably hot—enough that you feel like you’ll combust at any second. the pyro vision he keeps hung at his waist must make his body run warm, you think. you crave more heat, though. no matter how close you feel you are to the sun, you want more, so your arms wrap around his neck and tug him closer, tangling your fingers in those long fiery locks of his as he groans.

his hands roam your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you flush against his sturdy chest as his lips hungrily mold against yours. air is limited—there’s a burning in your lungs that slowly but surely builds until you pull away, panting for air.

his forehead presses to yours when you do, chest rising and falling as he catches his own breath with lips that are glossed and slightly swollen.

“if i told you what title i’d prefer you used on me, i’m afraid there would be no going back,” he mumbles against your lips.

you’d laugh if you weren’t so breathless and dizzy against him. you’d laugh at the fact that after such a shameless kiss in the dark, hidden corner of the city, he thinks anything he could say would change things more than this kiss has. they couldn’t—not when all your feelings have been laid bare without having said anything at all. a few mere words could never shift anything the way feelings his lips has.

not when you’ve gotten a taste of him, so sweet and hot against your lips, it’s like drinking rays of sun in the sheer cold of dragonspine.

“who said i want to go back?” you challenge, reaching over and tracing your finger along his cheekbone. he closes his eyes, letting out a soft, breathy laugh as he leans into your touch.

“then call me your lover,” he says instantly, “call me yours and i’ll consider us even.”

“even for what?” you raise a brow, looking at him in mild confusion.

he grins as he opens his eyes, leaning closer and kissing against your jaw until he works his way up just beneath your ear lobe, breath trickling the shell of your ear and making you shiver.

“for saving your life, of course,” he teases.

“hero’s don’t require compensation for their noble actions,” you huff, lips curling into a small pout—he pulls away to admire it before kissing it too with a short peck. (he’d tell you that you look adorable like this, but he doesn’t want to sour your mood any further). “and i was perfectly capable of handling that myself.”

“without a weapon?” he asks, looking at you knowingly.

“of course,” you say indignantly. “but if it should truly kill you to be mine, then…” you trail off, leaning to press a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth, making his fingers dig into your hips slightly as he fights the urge to take more, to turn his head and get a proper kiss out of you.

“then…?” he rasps, impatient.

“then i suppose i can call you my lover,” you hum, finally giving into that overwhelming urge of brushing his bangs back, tracing the scar from your past with your thumb. “would that satisfy you, master diluc?”

“just diluc is fine,” he mutters, heat returning to his skin, “i’ve told you that plenty.”

“diluc,” you murmur, voice softer this time, “thank you for saving me. for always saving me.”

“of course,” he swallows thickly, “i will always come to rescue you. i promise.”

“and i love you for it,” you confess, just barely audible, “i always have. since before i knew what love meant.”

even in the dark shadows of the dim corner he has you pressed against, light breaks over his face as he smiles, so charming, so boyish, you think he’s reverted back to the boy you met when you were so young.

“and i have always loved you,” he whispers, leaning down and kissing you one more time, just to remind himself how you feel, “you taught me what love means.”

oh i miss mondstadt and the winery and my first joy of genshin 🥹 diluc the man that you are. you have not gone forgotten in my mind i promise

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 5: Rebellion

Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.

Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.

In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.

Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?

Word Count: 5.8K

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience}

Run?

Your stilled heart may not be able to beat any longer, but all-consuming fear still afflicts your battered body. You feel the familiar prickling sensation of adrenaline expanding outward from your constricting chest like a glassy lake disturbed by a thrown stone. All your hair stands on end as you think about the approaching dawn.

Staring into the icebound pools of Astarion’s scarlet eyes, you think about everything he has stolen from you - your life, your body, your soul, your love, your loyalty, your freedom.

He has taken everything from me.

Your voice shakes, “The sun can’t harm me if you’re near.”

“How certain are you that I don’t control that lovely little benefit?”

“Do you?”

One of his eyebrows pulls down hauntingly, “Perhaps I do. Perhaps I don’t. Are you willing to risk your life on it, pet?”

“Yes.”

“What about dear Shadowheart’s life? I would give her a very warm bloody welcome when she comes looking for you.”

Shadowheart.

“I won’t let you touch her.”

“If you’re a pile of ash on my front step, I don’t see you having much choice in the matter, darling, but you’re welcome to loiter out here all you like.”

Astarion turns his back on you. You seethe with a noxious loathing - for yourself, him, and the mess you’ve dragged your friends into. A deep rage you have kept caged for too long finally breaks free of its prison.

With a bellowing roar, you lash out at him, casting Telekinesis and hauling him off his feet, throwing him across the courtyard.

His body impacts a stone statue with a thud, shattering it into rubble. The ground greets his body with such force that he bounces off it.

What have I done?

His muscles tense, and he shifts his body, using the momentum to easily roll back onto his feet. A weeping gash on his forehead causes blood to stream down his face, streaking it with vicious red to match his eyes.

“You’ll pay for that.”

I know.

His reflexes might be like liquid lightning, but you’re not some feeble halfwit. Even though you’re not sure it will hold him, you cast Hold Person on him, catching him off guard. You see his frame flicker slightly as he tries to turn himself into mist, but your magic is strong, fuelled by your rage.

Shadowheart.

You have a choice - you can hold your ground against him as long as possible and allow either the sun or him to end you, or you can try to make it home before sunrise. He may follow and hunt you down like a rabid animal that needs exterminating, but either way, your fate remains the same.

Gale. Shadowheart. I have to try.

You pivot and force your body to move forward as fast as you can. Feeding off your rage, hatred, and all the devastated pieces of your broken heart, you run.

You dash over fences, skip across roofs, pull on every ounce of magic your body can contain and Misty Step until you’re not sure whether you’re mist or corporeal from one moment to the next. You push forward erratically, skittering towards home.

You don’t look back. If Astarion follows, you don’t want to know. You already know the fate that awaits should he choose it.

Your muscles twitch and cramp woefully with over-exertion as you draw closer. The stars no longer shine in the sky as they are snuffed out by the quickly rising light of dawn, but you can see the little house just up ahead.

I’m so close.

As the first light starts to break over the horizon, you throw the old wooden door open, throwing yourself to safety inside, slamming it shut.

Backing away from the door, you wait pensively, wondering if Astarion will burst through at any moment to make you pay for what you’ve done. You watch that door with a fixed, heated glower for hours, but nothing happens.

You go up to your bedroom and sink to your knees on the ground. Without the swarming fervour of hatred to dull the aching of your heart, you fall to pieces.

He really is gone, isn’t he?  

The spasming pain in your stomach cleaves at you, awakening you from the troubled trance you slipped into. Your arms curl around your midsection, trying to stifle the recurrent waves of convulsing pain rocketing through you.

I need to eat. Badly.

You have to force your starving body to move forward. Your muscles cramp and jerk out of your control. Each step has to be taken with purpose and effort as you try to control your writhing body.

The journey is agonizing and takes you longer than it should. When you finally reach the forest, you’re already exhausted. You fill your useless lungs with air they don’t need in an instinctive sharp inhale.

Another spasm in your unruly limbs causes you to stumble. You catch yourself on a tree and rest your forehead against the rough bark, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that the muscles of your face ache.

“There you are, little love. I’ve been waiting.”

You groan at the velvety smooth voice and force your eyes to open, casting them toward it. Astarion is standing on the other side of the small clearing.

Dressed in black, he melts into the shadows like an apparition. His clothing is reminiscent of what he wore the first night at camp after the crash, and you curse at him inwardly for wearing something that reminds you of old times.

You push yourself away from the tree and try to stand tall, but the cramping in your stomach persists, and you lurch over awkwardly.

“What the fuck do you want.”

“To talk.”

You scoff, “I have nothing to say to you.”

Astarion starts to walk towards you, and you grasp at the weave. Using Telekinesis, you throw him backwards, off his feet. He skids harshly across the moss-covered ground.

Once again, using the momentum, he tucks and rolls onto his feet, righting himself, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Yeah, right.

“If you come anywhere near me, I will burn you with every ounce of magic I have!”

Will I?

He starts towards you again, but before you can cast anything, he shifts into mist and rapidly reappears behind you. Terrified, you turn, ready to defend yourself against whatever horror he is going to inflict.

You might be fast, but he will always be faster. He effortlessly grabs your hands and forces them together, rendering you unable to cast. You struggle against him furiously, but he easily overpowers you, barely wavering.

He snarls, “Why do you insist on making me treat you in this manner? Why do you fight me at every turn?!”

Make him?

You break into venomous, hysterical laughter, and his eyes widen in shock.

“No one can make you do anything anymore, Astarion. What you do and who you are - those are your choices to make. You have no one but yourself to blame for any atrocities you commit and your shitty behaviour.”

His eyes soften, “You’re right, which is why I need to speak with you.”

Wait...  

I’m right?

No.

Don’t fall for this again.

“Did you not hear me? I want nothing to do with you!”

He sighs, “I understand. If you wish, I will leave Baldur’s Gate and never return. You will never have to see me again, but you must hear me out first.”

… What?

“I’m going to let your hands go now. Are you planning on attacking me some more, or will you listen?”

“Let go and find out.”

He chuckles, “Fiery as ever, my dear.”

Astarion releases his hold on you and puts his hands up in an innocent gesture, backing away from you slowly.

You watch him through narrowed eyes as he retreats. You position yourself in a defensive stance. A fireball blooming in your palm, and your fangs bared.

“What is this, Astarion? What kind of sick trick are you playing now?”

“No tricks. No games. Please, hear me out, but allow me to get you some food first.”

“You want to feed me?”

He nods, “It will allow you to think clearer. I can see you’re in pain…”

He pities me, but Gods, I am so hungry.

“No, thank you. The last time I accepted your help, it nearly got me turned into a pile of ash.”

His crimson eyes look at you sadly, downturned at the corners, “Let me help you. Please.”

Starving.

“Fine.”

“Excellent. Perhaps you should stay put. You are likely to scare everything away. Do you have a preference? Deer, boar, bear… Kobold?”

What the fuck is happening right now.

You wave a hand at him in dismissal, “It doesn’t matter. Blood is blood.”

Astarion vanishes somewhere into the thickly treed forest, leaving you with your thoughts. Your mind is reeling, confused, and unsettled. Your nerves buzz, your skin feels like it’s crawling, and you have no doubt that if your stilled heart could beat, it would be throwing itself around your chest, trying to break your ribs.

What part of the nine Hells have I fallen into?

Astarion returns quickly, and you consider for a moment if he may have poisoned the animal, but what do you have to lose at this point?

Once you finish your four-legged feast, you stare at him, observing his behaviour. He stands with his arms crossed, leaning against a tree, looking exceptionally pensive. His cardinal red eyes dart rapidly, never focusing on anything in particular.

He looks… anxious, scared even.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about now?”

He jolts out of his thoughts, “Yes, of course. Do you feel better?”

Gods, yes.

You could almost moan at how relieved you feel - clear-headed, strong, no more gut-wrenching pain, turning your insides to mincemeat. Your muscles have stopped their relentless, painful spasming and are finally under your control again.

You might hug him simply for this feeling alone, but you lock your knees and keep your feet firmly planted.

“I feel fine. Tell me what you want.”

Astarion shifts away from the tree he’s been leaning against and steps toward you. You take several steps back, instantly lowering your centre of gravity protectively, and fire sparks to life in your hands.

He stops, a dismal expression on his face, “You’re afraid of me.”

“Observant, as always.”

Afraid doesn’t begin to cover it.

“What I did to you… What I’ve done to you… I… I abhor myself for it.”

You scoff, “Which part?”

“All of it.”

You stand there clinging to your fire for comfort. Your mouth is dropped open in astonishment. You observe his features keenly. His crimson eyes are downcast and glassed over, melancholic remorse shining brightly in the waxy moonlight.

His shoulders are slumped. His demeanour reminds you of the night he tried to bite you in your sleep, and you awoke to him hovering over you, fangs bared.

What can I even say to this?

He drags his fingers through the highlighted silver curls of his hair, “I feel different after the ritual. Something in me is… broken. I am not myself.”

No shit.

He looks at you with frightened, round eyes, “I don’t want to be this way, this person, but the power…” He looks at his hands as they ball into fists and clenches his bared teeth, “It corrupts, and I lose myself in it.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“I need your help.”

“You want my help? After you threatened to kill me?” You shake your head, “What kind of morbid trick is this, Astarion? What games are you trying to amuse yourself with now?”

“No games, my love.”

My love?

Am I actually considering this?

Have I gone completely mad?

Tightness coils like a spring constricting your chest, and you let the fire burning in your palm retreat, “How can I ever trust you again? How can I know if this is real?”

Astarion comes closer with slow, deliberate steps, “You can cast Detect Thoughts, no?”

“Yes, you know that. You’ve seen me use it countless times. Why?”

“Cast it.”

“What?”

“You need to know this is not a trick, and I can hardly blame you. Cast, darling. Tell me what you see.”

Astarion continues his slow advance toward you. The one good thing about being dead and having no heartbeat is that he can’t tell how scared you are. You hold your ground with a rigid stance, muscles tight and ready to react at a moment's notice.

He searches your face, looking deeply into your eyes, “They never did completely change colour, did they? Your eyes, I mean.”

All of your friends had remarked that although your eyes did take on the red hue of his, your irises held splotches and slivers where your original eye colour was still visible. You wonder what it must look like, but your face will forever be just a memory until one day it too fades.

“I wouldn’t know. I have no reflection anymore.”

“I’ve taken much from you.”

My love. My passion. My life.

Astarion hand trails down your arm to your wrist before turning your palm up and kissing it softly, “Cast, love.”

Do I want to do this?

You shouldn’t even be humouring him; you should be asking him to leave the city as he said he would, but there’s something in his voice, in the way he moves, and in his eyes that you recognize, and it tugs at your inherent intuition. You grit your teeth and cast.

My Astarion… If there’s even a small chance, I have to take it.

“What do you see?”

“Nothing. I haven’t used it.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid of what I might see, hear.”

He chuckles, “Me too.”

You delve into his mind. There is so much noise in his head that it makes it hard to focus on any one thought, and you struggle with isolating them. The cacophonous commotion maims your conscious mind and makes you want to yelp.

Shaking your head, you try to stifle the throbbing pain between your ears, “You need to settle your mind, Astarion.”

“How?”

“Focus on something that calms you.”

“Okay,” Astarion anchors his eyes on you, “try again.”

The chaotic mess of his mind batters yours as you try to focus yourself from one thought to the next. You manage to catch snippets here and there, but nothing concrete, nothing that can tell you if this is a trick, game or some other form of callous manipulation.

“Not calm enough, Astarion.”

“Is everyone's mind like that?”

“No one’s mind is like that. At least no one I’ve done this to. Thoughts are usually coherent and fluid like a slow stream slipping into a bigger river, but yours are chaotic, loud, like a raging storm.”

Although this certainly sheds some light on his erratic behaviour.

“What now?”

This might not be my brightest idea.

“I have an idea, but you might not like it.”

He narrows his eyes at you, “Well, what is it?”

You take a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to calm the fear curdling in your stomach. Closing the distance between you, your lips meet his tenderly.

He’s shocked for a moment, and you wonder if you overstepped, but his arm comes around you, pulling your body flush against his. He deepens the kiss with a low moan.

Now, the hard part is trying to keep enough of your mind off this moment to be able to read his thoughts accurately.

You once again focus your spell. The blaring white noise that had obstructed and retaliated against your intrusion slowly drops to a low murmur in the background.

His thoughts start to form coherently, and you follow the meandering stream. You can hear them now, as long as you don’t allow yourself to get too lost in him.

A challenge all on its own.

There’s something different about his thoughts compared to others’ minds you’ve read. He’s in there, but there’s something else, something sinister that chants malice, hatred, and corruption. It grasps at and infects his thoughts as they flow, polluting them.

You can hear his thoughts as they drift.

“What have I become?”

“Who am I?”

“Help me.”

He’s not lying.

Having heard enough to get answers, you allow the spell to wane. You intend to break the kiss, but his mouth on yours feels divine. He hasn’t kissed you with this much passion since the night he turned you, and you soak into it and immerse yourself in him.

I have to stop this, but Gods, I don’t want to.

His tongue trails along your lower lip, sending spiralling shivers running down your spine, and you gasp, parting your lips for him. He explores your mouth skillfully, tasting you, and a growl reverberates in his chest. Feverish need washes through you in a deluge and pools hot in your stomach.

You push yourself further into him, trailing your hands greedily up the smooth contours of his body. His thumb sweeps affectionately across your cheek. He is the center of your universe, and you can’t help but be pulled into him. Your yearning desire swells between your thighs, and you sigh against him at the throbbing ache, begging for him to relieve it.

You can feel your rationality start to slip away from you as you gravitate towards him helplessly.

Reluctantly, you push him away, with a panting breath, “Stop.”

He groans but releases you immediately, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Shaking your head, you hold your hand up to stop him. This wasn’t his fault. You had initiated it in the first place and allowed it to go on far longer than you should have. Your lips still tingle with the phantom feeling of his urging mouth, and you crave more.

His sultry gaze penetrates you, “I did very much enjoy that idea.”

Me too.

“You’re not lying, as far as I can tell, but I still don’t know what you think I can do for you.”

“You’re the only one that will stand up to me. Well, that I know I won’t kill anyway.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

His eyebrows round, and his mouth drops open, “You think I will kill you?”

“Yes. I think you might. You’re certainly more than capable of it.”

“I…” Surprise dances across his features, “I would never.”

You scowl at him, “You almost did.”

“Darling, I was right behind you the entire time, just out of sight. I would never have let you burn.”

Was he?

“Oh, I see. So, you just, what? Enjoy seeing me running for my life, terrified? I hope you enjoyed the show.”

“I don’t enjoy it, but I feel… compelled to do it like something takes over, and I’m out of control…” he sighs, “again.”

“I don’t know if I can save you from yourself, Astarion.”

His eyes fall to the ground, full of sorrow and fear, and your heart breaks for him.

“I… I understand.”

“But I will try.”

I have to.

“You will?”

What do I have to lose?

Reflexively, you take a deep breath and nod, “Yes.”

Astarion takes your hand in his, “Thank you.” He smiles, “Will you move back into the palace?”

You pull away from him, “I have to think about it, Astarion. I need time to process…. Whatever this is.”

“Yes, of course. That’s eminently reasonable. Shall we discuss your terms tomorrow night?”

Another transaction for my help. Lovely.

“Fine. Until tomorrow, then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, my treasure.”  

You sit in the stark chair by the fireplace in the empty house you share with Shadowheart and Gale. Anxiety prickles your skin and ripples through your thoughts.

Am I falling for another trap?

Agreeing to help him may prove to be your undoing, but when have you ever been able to resist him when he’s pleading for your help? It’s what got you into this mess in the first place - isn’t it? If the ritual did cause this change in him, you can’t help but feel it’s your fault.

It sounded like he was still in there. If he is, how do you save someone from their own corrupted thoughts?

Tears slip down your cheeks, and you bring your knees to your chest. The fire wanes in the fireplace as it runs out of fuel, and you allow it to die like you allowed Astarion to take your life. As the fire burns out, it washes you in darkness. You wish Shadowheart were here to try and talk you out of the stupidity you’ve just agreed to.

Can I even be talked out of it?

You have always been headstrong, likely to your own detriment at times. You preserve where others balk. That resilience had carried you through after escaping the Nautiloid, but could it carry you through this?

The hectic cacophony of Astarion’s mind makes you shudder. You’ve listened in on the thoughts of countless people and never encountered anything similar. It had been like watching a crystal-clear stream slip through a contaminated bog, turning it into a gelatinous, toxic soup.

Could the ritual have caused that? 

There was no way to know for sure. You had never listened to his thoughts before. Even when you had the tadpole, you never forced your way into any of your friends’ heads out of respect for them and their privacy. The only times you had crossed those boundaries was when the tadpole resonated with his out of your control.

Going to your room, you crawl into your bed. The wooden walls creak and groan eerily around you as if the ghosts of the 7000 souls you condemned were haunting you. You let your consciousness glide into the meditative tranquillity of your trance. 

You awake when the shadows have devoured the light again. Slipping into a tightly fitting robe, you bolster yourself for what’s to come. You run a comb through your hair and adorn your favourite circlet. The metal is delicately shaped in prancing dragons, and a shining red gem hangs low on your forehead.

A knock on the door makes you twitch slightly, though you already know who it is. Astarion is waiting when you open it, leaning against the doorframe, handsomely bathed in the small beams of pale light that slip through the parting clouds covering the inky sky.

He’s dressed in a fancy red and black jacket with silver and gold piping and finely embroidered. His scarlet eyes are vibrant, dazzling you.

“Hello, little love. Are you ready to discuss?”

Am I?

“Yes. We can talk.”

“Where are Shadowheart and Gale?”

“Not here.” You leer a warning at him, “Stay away from them.”

His eyes cast down, “Do you truly think I am such a monster that I would hurt them?”

“I don’t know who or what you are anymore.”

He shakes his head with a sigh, “Neither do I sometimes, my dear. Shall we get you something to eat before we talk?”

“You’re not dressed for hunting.”

He chuckles, “I may be a tad overdressed. I came from a business meeting.”

Business meeting?  

“Come, let’s go get you some food.”

You and Astarion walk to the forest in uneasy silence. A low fog covers the ground in an eerie, chalky mist. You keep a tight grasp on your magic, ready to cast at a moment's notice.

Astarion may seem different, but you’re not entirely sure if you can trust him. Part of you thinks this is all just another manipulation, and you’re walking straight into it.

The lovesick hero… Gods, he couldn’t have been more right.

“Do you always stomp so loudly when you’re hunting?”

You scoff, “I am not a hunter, Astarion.”

“Yes, that’s evident. How did you keep yourself fed?”

You shake your head, abject, “I didn’t. Not well, at least.”

Astarion strips himself of his jacket and shirt once he’s surmised you’re deeply enough into the forest. His pallid skin makes him appear almost ghost-like in the washed-out glow of the diffuse beams of light that flicker, cast from the full moon glowing brightly behind the clouds. His muscles appear as though they have been etched from stone by a master mason.

Fuck.

He looks ethereal in this moment, and you can’t pry your eyes away from him.

“Enjoying the view, precious thing?”

“Yes, the forest is beautiful tonight.” You cast your eyes upward before meeting his with a taunting glare, “I could take or leave your body.”

“Oh,” he giggles, “feeling bold tonight, I see.”

This feels too much like before he usurped the Rite of Profane Ascension, making you restless. You fidget with your hands and shift uncomfortably on your feet. Your palms are still warm, prepared to cast, just in case he turns on you like he has so many times.

“We can talk about what’s bothering you if you wish.”

You didn’t even notice him walk over. Astarion stands in front of you. His eyebrow is cocked, and he eyes you acutely with a probing gaze.

“No. I’m fine.”

“Stay put, and do try not to move about too much. You scare away the animals.”

You roll your eyes at him, “I’m well aware of my inadequacies, thank you.”

Just like the night before, Astarion returns promptly with your dinner. He redresses himself while you eat, and you mourn the loss of that mouthwatering sight.

Get ahold of yourself.

“Where would you like to talk? I presume you have… demands.”

“The palace is fine as long as you don’t currently have any… guests. ”

“Guests?” He cocks a brow at you, confused.

“Your new lover. Whatever her name is.”

“Oh…” He shakes his head, “It’s not what you think, my dear. We will discuss it.”

Not what I think? She basically told me as much.

Once you hit the city streets leading to the palace, you are overwhelmed by all the people outside, even at this late hour. They smell like prey, and even though you just ate, that hunger is insatiable. You could likely eat every person in this city and still not quench that sanguine thirst.

Their hearts beat lazily in their chests as they mull about, and it’s the only thing you can hear. You grimace and grit your teeth, trying to stay in control of the bloodlust that consumes you.

Astarion notices your unease. He had spent two centuries with it, after all.

“Hold my hand, little love. I’ll keep you safe and them.”

He holds his hand out to you, and you look at it tentatively, unsure if you should take it. A child runs past you, chasing his friends, laughing hysterically, and you grab Astarion’s hand in a death grip. You clamber and hug tightly to his side as you fight the urge to chase the gleefully playing children.

Gods, what have I become? 

“Eyes on me, darling. You’re alright.”

“Astarion, I can’t.” Your voice is panicked, pleading, “I need to get out of here before I kill someone.”

He nods and looks around, “Do you see that rooftop?”

“Yes.”

“Can you make it up there?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“Go.”

You cast Misty Step and disperse into a fog, reappearing on the rooftop. Astarion is already there waiting for you, no doubt turning himself into mist as he had done in the forest to subdue you. He holds out his hand again, and this time, you take it gratefully. Despite the fear he has instilled in you, there is solace in his touch as there always was.

Astarion leads you over rooftops, jumping from section to section and catching you when you inevitably nearly fall. The breeze up here is unhindered by obstacles and remains fresh and mostly void of the smell of the living, allowing you to calm your raving mind.

Walking into the palace courtyard, you eye the statue you had thrown him through in your rage just a few nights prior.

So much can change so quickly.

The square base of the statue remains largely intact, but the rest of the marbled-grey figure lies in large, jagged pieces strewn haphazardly on the ground.

Astarion follows your gaze and smirks, “I didn’t like it much anyway.”

You follow him into a large, lavish sitting room, obviously meant to occupy the spawns’ guests before Cazador came for them. Looking around the dim, dreary palace, you shudder.

I hate this place.

“Darling, do you mind?”

“What?”

He points at the fireplace, “Would you be so kind?”

With the flick of your wrist, fire springs to life, igniting the kindling and logs, crackling and popping. A soft, tawny glow casts across the room. The tacky paintings and art he hated still embellish the walls, and the furniture remains the same.

Why has he not changed any of this?

He sits down and watches as you glide through the room, inspecting it. You finally shake your head and bring yourself back to the matter at hand.

Let’s get this over with.

“I have stipulations.”

He chuckles, “I would not have expected any less.”

“I don’t want to live in this horrid place.”

He waves his hand dismissively, “This is my home.”

“It’s not mine. Let me be perfectly clear - I will not live here.”

He sighs, “Alright, but please tell me you are not asking me to move back in with Shadowheart and Gale?”

“Absolutely not. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“I will purchase another then.”

“I don’t want to see your lover. If you must be with her, you can go elsewhere. Return to this palace for all I care as long as I don’t have to see her and you together.”

“It upsets you.”

Your anger flares, the fire in the fireplace pulses and sputters along with it, “Yes, it fucking upsets me. Does that make you happy?”

He stands and walks over to you. You cross your arms over your body and keep your eyes off him, not wanting him to see just how much it breaks you.

Astarion uses his fingers to gently bring your eyes up to his, “Why does it upset you so?”

You scoff at him, “That’s a stupid question.”

“Be a dear and humour my stupidity then.”

“You wouldn’t even touch me after you turned me into… this. You barely laid a finger on me.”

His eyebrows knit together, “Did you want me to?”

“… Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

I wanted you to want me...

“It hardly matters now. Let’s move on.”

“I’d rather like to know why you care so much about the, what did you call her?” He cocks his head, eyes upcast, “Ah yes, my “purple-haired hussy.” You left me, remember?”

“You didn’t give me a choice. It was either run or be ruined by you, but I don’t wish to drudge this up. Let’s move on.”

He grabs your robe aggressively, tugging you close to him with a threatening sneer, “I said tell me.”

Well, that didn’t last long, did it?

Here goes nothing.

Reaching up, you grab one of his fists holding you, and you burn him. He winces, recoils and throws you to the floor.

“You little shit!”

“Stop listening to whatever is whispering to you in your head, Astarion.”

I need to snap him out of this, but how?

Your words in the forest float through your head, “Focus on something that calms you.”

Me… He anchored himself with me…

In a swift motion, you throw yourself up and wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace, “Don’t let it win.”

He growls menacingly, and you squeeze him tighter. Your whole body is trembling, terror-stricken, and you clench your jaw hard and wait for whatever comes next.

He’s either going to throw me off, kill me, or….

Astarion stills. His muscles flex and relax chaotically. You look up at him, and his eyes are tightly shut with his teeth grit together so harshly they rasp sickeningly. The tendons in his neck jut out unnaturally. His hands are balled into fists at his side. You reach up and cradle his face, and he snarls threateningly, but you sweep your thumb across his cheek.

“Hey, eyes on me, Astarion.” You echo his words from earlier when he had saved you from your own morbid, intrusive thoughts.

His eyes open slowly and meet yours, “Easy now. You’ve got this.”

Quiet minutes tick by without a word from either of you. You watch the war raging inside him through his eyes. They flash from cold and dead to the crimson warmth you recognize and back again while he battles with himself.

With a slight shake of his head, his whole body relaxes instantly, and his eyes warm again.

“I… I apologize. I…”

“Lost yourself, I know.”

He pushes you back and looks you up and down, “Are you hurt?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me, but I burnt you. Apologies.”

He looks at the reddened marking on his pale hand, “Think nothing of it. I heal quickly.”

“Yes, I’m well aware.”

Astarion’s eyes look at the floor, ashamed of himself, “Are you going to leave? I’ll take you home if you wish.”

“No. I believe we still have terms to discuss.”

“You’re still going to help me?”

You smile, “Always.”

“You truly are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

His confession at Moonrise rings through your mind. The memory is overlayed in sorrow, and your chest clenches tightly, remembering his words, “I want us to be something real.” 

You thrust the thought away as quickly as it reared up, “Are you okay now, or do you need a moment?”

“No. I’m fine. We can continue with your demands. You will not live here, no lovers, what else?” He smirks, “You are a particularly demanding little thing tonight.”

“You need to teach me how to hunt so I can feed myself.”

“We’ve swayed to this particular song already, love. Don’t you remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I will endeavour to be a better pupil this time.”

He chuckles, “You may get the hang of it in a century or two or three. Fine. I will do my best to educate you. Anything else?”

“When this is over, I want my freedom. I know you won’t turn me into a True Vampire, but I want to be free to decide my fate.”

“Why do you think I won’t?”

“You told me as much. “Trust me, it doesn’t happen.” After you turned me, I was too blinded to realize you were saying what I wanted to hear in honeyed lies. I am not so naive anymore."

He scowls but takes a deep breath, “Then you will have it, my dear.” 

Big thank you to everyone who takes the time to read/follow/like/reblog/comment/etc. I'm honoured to know you're enjoying reading my fics!

I'm sorry this chapter took awhile to come out - I've rewritten it so many times I've lost count, so I hope you like it!

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

AO3 [Crossposted]

[loz-furbies]

Breath of the Wild / Age of Calamity / Tears of the Kingdom Zelda, part 2/2

Role in the story

BotW, AoC and TotK stand out among the LoZ games in that they're specifically Zelda's stories in a way only Spirit Tracks can rival. Or Skyward Sword also did a similar thing where you first try to figure out what the deal with Zelda is, but I'd say that in that game Link's own journey to becoming the hero he needs to be is just as important, while BotW Link's is feelings about his adventure are more implied that explicitly shown in his games. While the actual story of BotW and TotK is pretty similar to most loz titles as far as Zelda is concerned (she is in some kind of trouble through the whole time and only clearing the game can help her, and she has minimal impact to the actual gameplay of the final fight), since we get to see so much of her own story, her contributions still feel a lot more meaningful than just doing something fancy in a cutscene after the player has done all the actual work. And despite being absent for the whole game, Zelda still has a lot of presence, since searching cutscenes about her is the main quest, and so many side characters talk about her.

I prefer Zelda's story in BotW over TotK, because in BotW she has internal conflicts and character development, while in TotK she is more about dealing with the external conflict that the plot throws at her. Or you can say that she is unsure about what to do at first and has grown more confident by the final Dragon Tear cutscene, but I don't think this was motivated by any personal growth about her. Also I'm not a fan of how the Master Sword just shows up on its own in the past, because it makes it feel like she's just acting on someone else's plan and the whole draconification is pushed on her. The scene where she eats the secret stone is really good, but I would rather have had her also intentionally pull the Master Sword to her after she comes up with the dragon plan to give her more agency about the whole thing.

TotK also has the issue that while the scene where Zelda sacrifices her humanity in order to restore the Master Sword is incredible, when it comes to gameplay impact, it comes across as underwhelming. Like this is a reincarnated goddess who gave up her all and has been pouring her strength for a billion years into this sword as a culmination of the dramatic flashback story, and what you get out of it is... a base power 30 weapon. I get why it is like this for obvious balance reasons, but from a pure story perspective, there's so much narrative weight on the Master Sword that at this point it should be able to one-hit-kill anything that isn't Ganondorf.

Showing the cutscenes about Zelda in mostly random order is a somewhat risky way to tell the story. I got a satisfying story in both BotW and TotK, but I figure that your opinion about Zelda might be coloured if the first BotW memory you see about her is the one where she acts rude towards Link. But I do like how any of the memories being optional naturally plays into the ending of the game where Zelda asks if you remember her; how well the player knows Zelda probably factors in how they feel during this scene, so I'd say that each player gets the ending they deserve.

Meanwhile in TotK I feel that after getting the geoglyph where Zelda makes the decision to turn into a dragon, the rest of them become less meaningful when the mystery about where she disappeared has already been solved. And speaking of which, I really wish the game handled the mystery about Zelda in the present time better because all red herrings about her become incredibly awkward when Link already knows where she is. I can still sort of buy that he wouldn't want to discuss this with Penn, but the main story missions really should have had an alternate version if you already did the Dragon Tears quest. And puppet Zelda in Hyrule castle towards the end doesn't work too well either, like what am I expected to feel about this suspiciously behaving Zelda when the game has already made it clear that it can't possibly be her?

Also it should be noted that as has become somewhat of a tradition, Zelda also gives you the Bow of Light in BotW. Which feels a little superfluous there since it's not really related to the rest of her story, but whatever. She also takes part in the TotK final battle as the Light Dragon, though she's not a very active participant when she just automatically carries you higher when you fall down enough, and later she has no memory of her time as a dragon anyway. But it's nice that she was included in some way at least.

AoC tells a similar story about how Zelda goes through failing to awaken her powers to confidently wielding them in a battle, but it feels completely different since the player is present through these events instead of seeing them in a flashback cutscene. And I would argue that Zelda just flat out is the main character of that game, sure you start as Link but Zelda already becomes a playable character in chapter 2, and story-wise Link is feels very much like an afterthought.

AoC makes her a badass fighter like all the other characters, which is totally at odds with the rest of her characterisation, but it's just something you have to accept for this type of game. And of course it would have been super disappointing if she wasn't playable. I like her Sheikah Slate and Bike movesets, but I never liked the bow for too complicated for me to handle (and somehow the bow tutorial is like the hardest level in the game?)

In the golden ending of TotK the sages pledge their loyalty to Zelda, and the scene cuts to a flashback of the ancient sages doing the same for Rauru. Honestly I don't really get what they're trying to say with this; Zelda doesn't have any kind of character arc that would need to culminate in her becoming a leader or accepting help from others, and while the ancient version of this can be taken as everyone joining forces to fight evil together, at the end of TotK the world has already been saved so I don't see what the other races would get out of, I dunno, reinstating the monarchy that fell a hundred years ago? And the sages are already personal friends with Zelda anyway so the whole scene just feels weird.

Relationships

In addition to having a lot of development to herself as an individual, this Zelda also gets to have a lot of relationships with various NPCs that are worth mentioning.

As usual Link is among the most important relationships for Zelda. Zelda and Link obviously have the connection that they both have a predestined role in the Ganon thing, and the fact that they have such different starting points (Zelda struggles at her job while Link is pretty much already ready for his) gives them an interesting contrast. And when they eventually start getting along better they’re probably the only people who can understand each other’s situation properly.

Out of the Zelda and Link duos I've seen, I think this one has the most well defined relationship. For comparison SS Zelink comes second, and while I do like them a lot and I think the game makes it clear they care about each other as people, I don't think there's much else to their relationship than "childhood friends". Or like stuff that makes them unique among the many anime childhood friends. Meanwhile in BotW we get to know some actual specifics about their relationship (at least from Zelda's side), primarily about their shared fate. Zelda being jealous of Link's success at his job is a notable part of the story, and this comes up a lot. In her diary she describes how she is unhappy about the king appointing Link as her knight, how she is unnerved about how he is so silent and unreadable, and how she speculates about how he must despise her for her failures. And her jealousy doesn't just affect her own self esteem, but also impacts her behaviour when she lashes out at him for just doing his job.

Once Link saves Zelda from the Yiga clan, she becomes more friendly towards him, apologises and puts an effort in getting to know him more. I think it's a cute detail that the first thing she learns about him is how gluttonous he is. Eventually Link confides in him about the pressure he feels about his duty and Zelda presumably talks about her own fears (or at least she writes in her diary that she wants to and I assume she eventually did). So I really like that they get to connect at a very personal level and open up about their insecurities, and the game explicitly points out this connection.

I do have some issues with how the turning point of their relationship where Link saves her from the Yiga clan is executed. Like the reasons Zelda starts to see Link in a more positive light is because he did the one job he had as a bodyguard, like that comes as a surprise to her. On an intellectual level sure I can get that it's different for her to know that Link's job is to protect her from theoretical danger and actually experience that moment, but I don't think the story works in the moment. The scene itself is pretty weak, like Zelda writes in her diary how Link put himself in danger for her sake, but it's just two Yiga footsoldiers so as a player it's hard to relate to the idea that Link was at any kind of risk.

Age of Calamity changes Link's character significantly in that he finds the Master Sword during the game after he has already been appointed as Zelda's knight, and this also changes their relationship to a less interesting direction. As someone who is on track with fulfilling their role in the grand plan, Link still works as a foil to Zelda who struggles with hers, but all of this is depicted as Zelda's frustration at herself and all the the envy and animosity towards Link is missing. In general Link is pretty boring in AoC and most of what he could be able to contribute towards Zelda have been moved to Impa. But I do like how consistently he acts as her bodyguard in AoC, there are multiple scenes where he moves in front of her to protect her. Which of course is very appealing to someone who really likes the princess-and-knight trope.

Ultimately I think Link and Zelda make for a good couple not just because they have so much shared history together, but specifically because both are canonically kind of weird. Zelda makes people eat frogs, and Link is someone who eats rocks. I prefer to imagine that even before the Calamity Zelda could fully be herself around Link. And in TotK it's clear she has a high opinion of Link, considering how much she brags about him to Rauru (which was a super cute scene).

Since we've been taking note of any hand holding instances between Link and Zelda it should be noted that there's some of those here as well, though none of them are what I'd classify anywhere near romantic. As the bodyguard Link drags Zelda by the hand when they run away from enemies, and the ultimate hand holding game TotK also gives one hand holding moment to Zelink too (though Link holds hands in pretty much every important character in that game). And we also get a little princess carry moment at the end so that's cool.

While I don't think any of the games confirm that they are canonically a couple, I think there's a lot that points in that direction. Kass relays his teacher's observation that Zelda was in fact in love with Link, and while this is third-hand information and either Kass or the teacher could have misunderstood something, but that just feels like a really strange thing to put in the game especially when it isn't challenged in any way. Then there's the TotK house debate which has been discussed to death, so I'll just state the often listed things that Link can only sleep in the bed of this house, and if Zelda lived alone she wouldn't have as much need for a private study. And also the process of elimination: the game doesn't really give Link any other house where he would have lived during the years between BotW and TotK.

The previous Zelda dads have been pretty boring (either just generically nice or lacking any proper characterisation), so I welcome King Rhoam to this group. He's a pretty hated character for obvious reasons, but I like him because even though he was a terrible father, as a character he is interesting. The story also has more bite to it if everyone isn't just besties with everyone, and Zelda's distress feels more personal when her inability to awaken her powers doesn't affect just faceless masses and instead the constant reminder of her failures has a face. There are many scenes where he impedes or belittles her research or forbids it altogether, and in general the two appear to have a pretty formal and distant relationship.

Many in the audience want Rhoam's head on a stake for his horrid parenting, but I'd say that in canon Zelda is more willing for reconciliation, at least if AoC is anything to go by. According to his diary, Rhoam had been a strict father ever since the queen died (so Zelda was six) and there is little material on them actually having any positive interaction, but I figure there must have been something at least, or at least Zelda appears to value his approval. I do wonder how Zelda feels about her dad after the events of BotW since she probably got to read his diary and Link must have told him about the "old man".

In TotK Zelda gets more competent parental figures in Rauru and Sonia. It's a shame the game itself doesn't bring this up, but at least there is an interview that compares Zelda's parents to them. Through the power of magic and plot convenience they instantly sense that Zelda is trustworthy and become incredibly supportive of her. It really makes a huge difference for Zelda when she gets some actual guidance for unlocking her new magic powers, and unlike her BotW experience where she's constantly reminded of how necessary her contribution is to saving the world, this time she is told that this is not her fight and she is allowed to focus on her own issues. She eventually becomes a part of Rauru's inner circle and anti-Ganondorf team. I really like how Rauru treats Zelda, in that he consistently acts like the adult in the relationship and always remains supportive, but also doesn't baby her either and lets her make her own decisions.

While the other Beast Pilots primarily have a notable relationship with Link, Urbosa is more about Zelda as a mother figure or a "cool aunt" type. Urbosa is consistently supportive towards Zelda; she consoles her when her powers fail to awaken, was present to help when kid Zelda almost passed out from praying in cold water, puts her hand on her shoulder when she's stressed, and tries to do something about her strained relationship with Link. It's clear that the two are very close and go way back and Zelda has opened to her about her feelings. Zelda also acts more relaxed around Urbosa, like in the cute scene in Champion's ballad where they laugh together about having to put up a formal act in front of an audience.

Zelda also writes that she was surprised that Mipha was quick to learn to control her Divine Beast, whatever that means. Other than that Zelda doesn't share much of a specific relationship with Mipha, and Zelda's situation isn't contrasted with Mipha's at all even though both are princesses who are in a conflict with their king father. Even if Zelda does share personal and character-focused cutscenes with all champions, in general there's not much to say about her relationship towards the non-Urbosa Beast Pilots; while each of them has their own unique feelings about Zelda, from Zelda's side it's more just that she considers them her friends.

AoC Impa is in a similar boat. Impa's title in the game is "Royal advisor, loyal friend", and she indeed is included in many of Zelda's scenes where she's troubled over her lack of progress with her powers. Third-wheeling the Zelink from a shipper's perspective, but makes sense from a narrative perspective to have someone for Zelda to play off so she doesn't have to monologue for an entire cutscene since Link (or Terrako) doesn't talk as usual. So Impa gets to deliver some important pep talk to Zelda, so she can continue to trudge forward despite all her failures. Still this is mostly from Impa's side and I don't get a lot out of Zelda outside obviously seeing Impa as a friend.

Mind you even if I don't think Zelda's relationship with Impa or the Beast Pilots is particularly special, I'm not really complaining. Like there is effort to put them in character focused scenes and have them have some sort of connection with each other, and in almost any other LoZ game they would be a high point in Zelda's relationship list. It's just that the bar is way higher with this iteration of Zelda, so stuff like this becomes even worth mentioning.

The TotK sages have disappointingly little to do with Zelda, even though they should have known each other for years. We get nothing from Zelda's side towards any of them, and the sages are primarily concerned about the environmental disaster affecting their homes (which okay is fair) and Zelda is just a footnote in their story. Only Riju brings up Zelda being her close friend, and is the only one to refer to her as Zelda, while the other three use princess Zelda.

AoC gives Zelda her own companion character in Terrako, which I guess is fitting if you see her as the main character of the game. Unfortunately for me Terrako inhabits the character type that I categorically dislike and is my least favourite character of the franchise, but is still relevant enough that it warrants a mention here. And if Zelda has to have a mascot, making it a little robot is a good pick. We even get to see a flashback where kid Zelda builds Terrako, which of course ties well into her characterisation as a scientist. Through the story Terrako is present in Zelda's important moments encouraging her, and Terrako being (temporarily) destroyed just before the grand finale is the final big moment for Zelda where she repeats her resolve to win the war. And of course the true ending of AoC has Zelda set out on her own with just Terrako, which I guess helps to really sell her as the main character of her own life (compared to if she left with her whole friend group or a bodyguard).

Purah is brought up together with Zelda a little; apparently Zelda used to cover for her when her research got too explosive back before the Calamity, and Zelda took part in the ancient Sheikah technology research and writes in her diary how she thinks it's best not to try to argue with Purah. But since being a scholar is such a big part of Zelda's character, I really wish her relationship with Purah was more developed. She doesn't get much out of Mineru either other than a mention that she visited her and rode her construct.

We also get to know about how the public perception of Zelda, in BotW Rhoam tells about how there are rumours spreading about her inadequacy, but in TotK there are NPCs in every corner of Hyrule who have something nice to say about her. I think this is cute development, and I find it believable too given how much of the talk about her is how she actively goes around helping people.

[mythicamagic]

Purple tremors: a Xiaolumi fanfic (Genshin Impact) ~ Chapter one ~

Summary: Xiao's expression shuttered, before his fingers curled to clasp her hand equally tight. He stepped in close as if to hide her inside his shadow.

"Give your body over to me. The wind will take you. Nothing will hurt you while we travel."

Aka: Xiao finds an injured Lumine on a beach in Liyue after her encounter with the Raiden Shogun.

---

AN: I've been playing Genshin for two months so I haven't completed every main quest yet- hopefully I don't make too many lore mistakes (go easy on me!) I just really love this ship's potential.

Rated M for some mild suggestive themes. Read on Ao3 - here.

-----

There is a beach she likes to walk across in Liyue. Intimate and hushed like a lover’s rendezvous point, it lies South-East of Wangshu Inn; perfect for a quick glide from the inn's Waypoint if one felt like letting the wind comb through their hair.

Tonight she took off her heels and wandered barefoot over the white sands of Yaoguang Shoal. It slumbered quiet and undisturbed at night. Whatever Hilichurls or enemies that usually prowled the shores were absent or sleeping at the foot of the cliffs, posing no threat.

Closing weary eyes, Lumine tilted her chin up to the cool, gentle fingers of a sea breeze. It ruffled her hair playfully, briefly inspiring a half smile when it reminded her of Venti. Mondstadt and all its residents felt so very far away right then. Even as she walked in Liyue, her mind was back in Inuzuma.

Lumine watched with a kind of detached awareness as surf climbed up to tease her toes, eventually swallowing her ankles in cool rolling waters with each new push and pull of the tide.

Her fingers shook, and she curled them into loose, trembling fists, tightening a thin shawl around her shoulders that Thoma had given her. The sea looked so tranquil at night, kissed with tender moonlight. She envied its calm and serenity.

Paimon had been left behind at Komore Teahouse, taking a much-needed rest. Lumine absorbed the heavy silence left in her wake. Sometimes the floating spitfire's constant presence could feel a little exhausting, but most of the time Lumine was eternally grateful for her chatter. Because without Paimon everything stopped. The ceaseless unending quiet and nothingness threatened to pull her in with the force of a yawning void.

Aether…

Another twinge, this time like needles in her shoulder- bit deep. Lumine hissed out a tight breath, touching her tender arm. The skin felt raw and fragile, as if it could split open at the slightest scrape. She could handle pain if it meant being one step closer to finding her brother, but lately…it had all felt exceedingly hopeless. A goal constantly out of reach. She was becoming fatigued by straining for it.

Her lips thinned and bent down at the sides. Soon they trembled. Her hand began shaking again, fingers jolting from tiny spasms. Lumine wasn't sure she could command them to lie still this time. The ringing in her ears was only just beginning to subside.

"It's unusual to find you alone."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Lumine turned. She hadn't sensed anyone in the area, but that wouldn't do much good when trying to locate-

"Xiao," she murmured, taken aback.

He stood a little ways away on the beach, arms folded. Something hard was in his eyes, the luminous yellow flicking over her face quickly, as if concerned.

Lumine faced the ocean once more, hoping to hide her expression. "What are you doing here? It's late."

"Adepti don't require the same amount of sleep mortals do," his curt, even tone reached her ears. As she listened, she picked up on the soft crunch of footfalls upon the sand. "If you're going to chide someone about staying out late, I can think of a better candidate. You look as though you need rest far more than I do."

"Hm, is that your way of telling me I look awful?" she quipped.

"No, never."

When Lumine glanced at him next, she found him closer than expected. His gaze was direct and serious, until he seemed to realise how the fervor in his words might be taken.

"That is to say- you seem tired. More than tired, honestly," he uttered, stepping closer. "Are you alright?"

They were side by side now, a respectable distance between their arms. Lumines skin cried out for contact despite the pain it would probably bring.

There are a thousand things Lumine wants to say. She's surprised he's here and wants to ask about it. Xiao never approached her first. She always called him, and he'd respond. A request and an acceptance. Always- without fail, he’d appear, no matter how busy he may be. It was in those moments she felt his kindness most keenly.

"More than tired sounds pretty accurate for what I'm feeling right now." She forced a smile, pretending to watch the ocean's horizon with her full attention. The silence felt so loud as she waited for him to speak, wanting it. Wanting the soft, solemn cadence of his voice.

"…I might not be the best at conversation," he muttered, a faint rumble in his tone that belied his awkwardness. "But if you want to talk I will listen."

She didn't miss a beat. "I'm fine."

Xiao just stared at her, that intense air about him softening with each passing moment. His brows pulled together briefly, before he sighed. "Lying to an adeptus. I'm sure there must be some kind of karmic punishment for that."

Lumine’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes stung. Everything ached. "Karmic punishment? I think the Archons can dish out punishment personally rather than waiting for karma to do their bidding."

She could feel his ageless attention settling on her again. "Is this about the Raiden Shogun?"

Lumine couldn't hide her flinch. She turned to face him fully, unable to hide her reaction. How did he know? She’d mentioned she’d be heading for Inuzuma but that was the last time they’d spoken.

Xiao watched her pensively for a moment longer before gesturing to her shoulders. Something firm and hard entered his usually calm tone.

"You're trembling. Show me your wounds, Lumine. Now."

"I'm f-"

"Enough," he growled, their faces inches away now. Xiao's lashes were dark yet tinged with teal, just like his hair. Lumine started as he grabbed her by the shawl. "I never took you for a fool that would ignore their own condition if they were injured."

"Xiao, hey-!"

She'd wanted to stop him, had grabbed his arm too late. Her shoulders sang with relief against the cool night air in contrast to Xiao's sharp inhale. The shawl pooled at her ankles.

His own hands trembled the longer he gazed at the damage painting her back with multiple branching marks. Lightning burns wrapped around her bare shoulders, the unique pattern of skin lesions feathered into tree-like splinters that shot down her spine, hinting at the true level of damage her flesh had endured. The red, angry marks disappeared under her backless dress.

The shore began to blur, becoming a murky mix of blended colours as Lumines eyes stung. Hot droplets ran down her cheeks- only to be halted by rough material.

Xiao shifted his fingers, wiping the tears away with rough, awkward scrubs. Lumine blinked, her heart constricting at the gesture.

He looked grim, yet understanding. There was nothing damning inside those eyes despite the punishment he administered to foes. There was only acceptance. For these reasons, Lumine was eternally thankful no one else had found her in such a state. She stifled a sob, bowing her head and trying not to lose it.

"Come with me," Xiao muttered. His hand was offered more gently this time. "I don't know what happened and won't insist you tell me. Still, the fact remains: you need those wounds taken care of," gloved fingers softly nudged hers. "You can admire the views of Liyue some other time. Come."

At his third gentle prompt to take his hand, Lumine internally mused that Xiao had never acted so insistent before. Really though, he needn't have worried about dressing up the offer.

Lumine would always accept his hand.

She took it, cradling it tightly between both of her own like a lifeline.

His expression shuttered, before his fingers curled to clasp her hand equally tight. He stepped in close as if to hide her inside his shadow.

"Give your body over to me. The wind will take you. Nothing will hurt you while we travel."

Xiao was obviously not considering the fact that Lumine had put herself through pain just getting to the beach from Inuzuma’s waypoint, and so fully accepted the idea of experience more just to get to a safe place. She bit her lip briefly, finally inclining her head and admitting defeat. “Alright,” she murmured quietly.

Gusts of gentle winds swept blonde hair back from her face. The air currents gradually picked up into strong gales beneath her feet, lifting her body. Lumine felt herself be cushioned, spirited along via the currents and bursts of air- carrying her right across the waters like a skipping stone until they strengthened, lifting her to new heights above jagged stones. Xiao was a constant presence at her side, occasionally brandishing his spear to guide the winds, but mostly following with quick bursts of speed mid-air. Adeptus energy wrapped around her like a tender embrace.

True to his word, Xiao ensured she didn’t feel an ounce of discomfort. It wasn't long before she glimpsed the tall outline of Wangshu Inn looming closer.

Instead of dropping her off as expected in her guest room that Verr Goldet had picked out for her and Paimon once upon a time, Xiao lifted a hand and unglamoured a previously hidden floor at the inn. Lumine watched with wide eyes as he stepped down onto the highest floor’s balcony, weakening the winds buffering her body to stay afloat until she eventually lowered completely- falling right into his waiting arms. Lumine stiffened, but not for the reasons he likely thought.

“We’re almost there, hang on,” Xiao muttered, guilt passing briefly over his face as he carried her further into the unknown floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and marvelled at the foreign feeling. She wasn’t used to being carried by anyone. The sense of closeness that body heat provided made her hunger for something inexplicable. She didn’t know what she was feeling: only that she suddenly didn’t want to let go. Feathery strands of dark hair tickled her arms as they tightened, looped around his neck. Lumine looked around to busy herself, spotting a bed and several shelves of books as they moved into a private room. Shattered spears lined up against a wall, discarded.

“I’ve never seen your room before,” she observed a few scattered things lying around, as if he’d been in the middle of sharpening his weapon. “It’s messier than expected for the vigilant yaksha.”

Xiao scoffed. “Why am I not surprised that snooping is your main priority in this situation?”

Despite his words, she glimpsed his lips twitch at the corners.

Lumine let herself be placed onto the soft surface of his bed. Xiao pulled away slightly, and reluctantly, she let her arms naturally fall away- hissing soon after at the white-hot sting of agony the shifting muscles evoked.

Xiao’s brows pulled together. His gloved hand caught her chin, tilting it up so that their gazes met. “This next part isn’t free from risks, but if you do exactly as I say, I can help,” he said, something in his solemn expression faltering- exposing a glimpse of true worry. “Do you trust me?”

She gave a faint nod. There was no hesitation. “With my life.”

“Good. Undress.”

----

TBC

[yupuffin]

My previous "Alhaitham is great, actually" post discussed my read of Alhaitham as an understanding, trustworthy man who operates on the principle that emotion and logic are both valid and informative ways of knowing. I wrote said post back in 3.1 and I believe that overall my points held up well into the progression of the 3.2 Archon Quests.

[obviously, spoilers ahead for the 3.2 Archon quests--specifically Chapter 3, Act 5]

I've seen it pointed out, rightfully so, that Alhaitham's role as the strategist behind the "overthrow the Akademiya" mission is a strong indicator of his shrewdness, one of the most immediately obvious aspects of his character.

I'd also like to point out two other aspects of his character that I think his role in the plot as an actor emphasizes: his understanding of others' perspectives, and the deep trust he shares with his teammates. Genuine, convincing acting--like Alhaitham pulls off--requires both of these factors.

Of course, by formulating the plan of attack and casting each "actor," Alhaitham already demonstrates a deep understanding of his teammates on a logical level (the "shrewdness" mentioned earlier). As an actor in the plan, Alhaitham draws a lot of attention as the primary antagonist of the Grand Sage Azar, the the team's main target for subjugation. Alhaitham is just one component of a staged "scene"--one intricately designed to elicit a highly specific series of subsequent responses from Azar in order to succeed.

For the "scene" to reliably execute its intended function, Alhaitham has to anticipate Azar's thought process, feelings, and reactions--or, what Alhaitham might call in his own words, Azar's "behavioral logic," of which emotion is a key part--with pinpoint accuracy, which is not an easy feat. Alhaitham then has to compose his own role as Azar's antagonist (and, to a lesser extent, that of the Traveler and Paimon) with meticulous attention to that behavior logic. It's a multi-layered process that wouldn't be possible if Alhaitham didn't harbor a deep understanding of how "behavioral logic," in all its nuances--purely rational and otherwise--functions.

(Reusing this screenshot from my last post for emphasis.)

This is essentially an extension of the point I established in my first "Alhaitham propaganda" post, about how Alhaitham, while a highly logical and realistic person, also recognizes and respects the role of emotion in the formation of a person's perspective. Furthermore, I use Azar only as a case study; while he's a more prominent example of Alhaitham demonstrating his recognition of emotional processes, of course, I think this understanding can apply more generally to Alhaitham's character, in other situations as well (for example, harking back to the offscreen conversation with Shani in Aaru Village).

Which brings me to the second point about Alhaitham I want to make in this post: the trusting relationships he forges with other people. After all, my initial inspiration for "Alhaitham propaganda" was the widespread suspicion of Alhaitham, and the almost universal anticipation of his potentially malicious intent or ulterior motives--suspicion that I don't believe is entirely groundless, but I think undermines some aspects of Alhaitham as a character and his role in the Sumeru storyline.

In particular, I'd like to point out a notion about acting that I think is important: it necessitates a very deep and solid trust among fellow actors (and between actors and a director and/or other teammates, when applicable). Essentially anyone who's done it can assert that acting is a daunting task; authentic, convincing acting, especially with high emotional intensity and impact--for which I believe the scene in Azar's office qualifies--requires proportionally great vulnerability on the actor's part, so it's imperative that the actor irrevocably trusts everyone involved in the production to make a performance seem genuine.

This is especially relevant for Alhaitham's role in the "scene," as he suddenly and thoroughly reverses the calm, collected demeanor he has invariably demonstrated to the other characters so far and appears to "go berserk," flying into a fit of rage, raising his voice far above the usual volume and charging at Azar with brute, terrifying force that betrays the finesse he's previously seen wielding in combat. Of course, Alhaitham's physical vulnerability in this scene (being captured and knocked out) is also a factor. Such a drastic performance with potentially grave consequences would not be possible if Alhaitham did not have complete faith in his fellow actors--and in turn, if his teammates did not also trust him.

Incidentally, this scene takes place under a delicious layer of reverse dramatic irony, as, at this point, while all of the protagonists involved are aware, it hasn't yet been explicitly stated to the player that the entire scene has been scripted in advance as part of Alhaitham's plan, and Alhaitham's "frenzy" is completely fake--further necessitating that Alhaitham's acting must be thoroughly convincing, as it must fool not only Azar, but also the player beyond the fourth wall. It's only at the end of the scene that it's revealed that every word and action that took place in Azar's office was "all part of the plan."

Alhaitham has asserted himself that he doesn't make empty promises, and that he doesn't have complex motives beyond "I do what I want and I oppose whatever opposes the simplicity and stability of my mundane life," so, in my opinion, his demonstration of the mutual trust he shares with the other characters, as well as of his willingness and capability to understand others' perspectives in all their complexities, should be more than sufficient to conclude that he is a reliable and trustworthy character.

And yes, I do still think he's beautiful, and I do still love him, even though he scared me half to death. He's amazing.

[slothquisitor]

I Know the End

Confronted with a final choice to defeat the Netherbrain, Astarion is sure he knows how this ends. Major endgame spoilers. Work title comes from I Know the End by Phoebe Bridgers. Astarion x Liv, 4.1k, mostly angst.

Also on AO3.

The elder brain is close. Astarion knows this because the damned thing won’t shut up. The closer they draw to the morphic pool, the whispers layer over each other, crescendoing until he feels as though its commands are echoing through his entire mind.  

–OBEY– fulfill – anomaly – BECOME –

As the brain rises from the morphic pool, Astarion wonders if it was this big the last time they saw it beneath Moonrise. The pain in his head feels like it might cleave him in two, the way it reverberates all the way through his teeth. He clutches his head on instinct, but it doesn’t seem to help. Liv staggers forward, the netherstones floating above her hand, and she throws everything she has at the brain. Her magic glows, great bolts of red, crackling energy flow out of her and straight for the crown.

And he watches it not be enough. 

It had never occurred to him that they might get this far and fail. It had never occurred to him that Liv could fail. At every juncture, he has watched her do the impossible. He doesn’t believe in much, but he does believe in her. When he watches her fail, it feels like the cruelest of jokes. 

The brain mocks them then. Tells them they had been just another cog in the Grand Design. Gods, he’s so tired of being a pawn in the games and machinations of others. 

He rushes to Liv’s side as he sees her crumble, falling to her knees as the final blast from the netherstones does nothing, again. There is a screaming, clawing pain in his mind, it is staggering, it orders him to give in, to become . It is taking all of his energy not to give in. He is trying to help Liv up when the brain blasts them back, and he braces for an impact that never comes. Instead, he finds himself floating in the soft blue expanse of the Astral plane, the Emperor interceding once again.

I pulled you out just in time. The situation is worse than I thought, the Emperor says, voice echoing in their heads. It has always been strangely disconcerting, the way the Emperor communicates, mind to mind. This is an elder brain no longer, the magic of the crown has caused it to evolve. It has become something more - a Netherbrain. 

Astarion almost laughs then and there. Of course, it has. This whole bloody quest of theirs has just been one complication after another. First, they looked for a healer for their tadpole, and then no healer could help, and neither could the githyanki creche. And then all the answers were supposed to be at Moonrise, but instead, they discover it’s all one big plot put together by the Chosen of the Dead Three. On and on and on. He feels stupid for assuming that simply wielding the netherstones would bring them victory. It has always been more complicated than that. He thought he knew better than this. 

“I thought the netherstones were supposed to allow us to dominate the brain,” Liv says, her words hold no curiosity, just barely contained rage. 

I thought so too, but that was when I believed it was still an elder brain. It has been anticipating our every move from the start. I underestimated it. We will need to rethink our plan, the Emperor says before floating down towards Orpheus’ prison. 

Liv glances at him, frustration clear on her face. “Something isn’t right,” she says, voice low. 

Of course, something isn’t right, the brain should have been destroyed by now. “We don’t exactly have a Plan B.” 

She nods and looks thoroughly resigned before jumping down to join the Emperor. He and the rest of their companions follow. This is an arena they know well, the corpses of Orpheus’ honor guard still lay scattered amongst the rocks. 

As they approach, the Emperor regards them impassively. I have assessed our encounter with the Netherbrain from every angle. I know why we failed. The problem was not the stones. The problem was you . You can make only one move at a time, but the Netherbrain calculates every possible move at once. It knows what you will do, it knows everything you could possibly do. You cannot outmaneuver it. To defeat it, you would have to think like an illithid. Better yet, be one. Your mind is not capable of this. Mine is. You will give the stones to me. I will assimilate Orpheus, and then I will be able to leave this prism to face the brain. 

Liv steps back, and Astarion recognizes the look on her face. She’s figured out something. “So this was it? Your plan all along? Use me to retrieve the stones for you and then send me to fail so that you could claim them for yourself. It’s obvious, really. Only ask me to turn them over when it’s clear I can’t use them.” 

If they weren’t so totally fucked by this reveal of information, Astarion would want to cheer Liv on for so completely laying out the plan. She’s right, it is obvious. Especially now that it’s too late.

You still don’t trust me, after all we’ve been through. Remember, I have been your salvation from the very beginning. Your knight in shining armor. I freed you from the nautiloid, prevented you from crashing to your death. I have protected you ever since - at no small cost to myself. 

Liv’s eyes narrow. “Oh yes, you are always quick to remind me of everything you’ve done on my behalf. On how we have no more secrets between us, and yet I still keep discovering things you haven’t told me. You claim we’re allies, but I’ve seen how you treat your allies. What you did to Stelmane and Ansur. Is this where you kill me too? Or will you simply turn me into a puppet like Stelmane and force me to do your bidding?”

In a blink the Emperor closes the distance, tentacled face just inches away from Liv’s. She holds her ground, and Astarion represses the urge to draw his daggers, to step between them. He has never seen Liv be cruel, but there is an edge to her words, she is looking to be cutting. He knows she has been suspicious of the Emperor’s relationship to Stelmane since finding that book in the cellar, but she has never told him her theory, never said it out loud in case the Emperor was listening. But its reaction gives the truth away, Liv has guessed right. 

That was the alternative relationship we could have had. Aren’t you glad I finessed my methods? Make no mistake. You are my puppet. Without me, you have no value. Now, release the netherstones to me. 

Gods, he hopes she doesn’t do it. Doesn’t give in. She had argued with the Emperor over Ansur’s corpse, gone to the House of Hope despite its protests, but this is something else. This means abandoning their best shot at defeating the brain. He’s glad the choice isn’t his. 

“No,” Liv spits out the word, glaring up at the mind flayer. Astarion prepares for a fight, and prepares for the Emperor to force her to give up the stones. But then, it surprises him.

  Fine. I told you that the githyanki would want to kill you for what you are. Even united the Netherbrain was going to be an impossible enemy. But apart, we have no chance of survival. Since you will not work with me, you work against me. You leave me no option but to join the Netherbrain. 

And then, just like that it is gone. Portalling away. Liv stands tall until the portal closes, and then she doubles over, clutching her chest as breaths come in great gasps. For a moment he worries that she has been injured, but he can see no injuries, magical or otherwise. 

“I sure as hells hope I didn’t just sentence the entire realm to death with that choice,” she manages around gasping breaths.

Ah, so it’s panic then. “It wasn’t to be trusted,” he says, but his words come out far less reassuring than he hoped. He’s never seen her like this, so…unmoored. She is always calm, always steady. He used to find her utter unflappability annoying, gleefully awaiting the moment she might break. Now, her obvious panic almost scares him more than the Netherbrain.

Liv straightens, looking at their stunned companions, still breathless. “Well, let’s hope that Orpheus isn’t actually interested in killing us. Lae’zel?”

Drawing the Orphic Hammer, Lae’zel approaches her prince and frees him from his prison. Astarion stands beside Liv, wishing he had words to combat the rising panic he can feel in her. He takes her hand, an attempt at comfort he suspects they both need. 

Her grip is tight as the githyanki prince crashes to the ground and takes up his blade. And then their minds are ripped apart, a silent cry piercing their heads. It’s all Astarion can do to remain upright. 

“You reek of illithid,” Orpheus snarls. “You slaughtered my honor guard and abused my power. Nonetheless, it seems we must be allies.”

“Your Majesty, The Prince of the Comet, Gith’s true heir. It is an honor,” Lae’zel says, bowing her head voice full of awe. 

The Prince glares at them. “Do not patronise me. You rejected the illithid when it no longer suited your needs. No doubt you freed me because it suits you now. I will neither forgive nor forget your abuse of my powers.”

Liv lets out a breath. “I’m sorry. We were deceived…we should have attempted to free you sooner, but we believed that without your powers, we would die.”

“That is true, and it would have been the honorable outcome for one destined to become ghaik . You had the opportunity to surrender yourself to my honor guard. They would have given you a noble end. They would have freed me, and I would have stopped the elder brain before it evolved into a Netherbrain. All that suffering - avoidable. Were it not for the choices you made,” Orpheus’ words are laced in accusation and righteous anger. 

A sort of devastation shadows on Liv’s face. He’s never seen her be this open with her emotions. It’s almost as if rejecting the Emperor has broken something within her, and she cannot seem to rein in back in. “We…we cannot change what is past. We can only move forward. We need your help to stop the Netherbrain.” 

“In this we are aligned…I am obliged to overlook your transgressions. We will destroy this Netherbrain together, and put a stop to this nascent Empire before it expands into the stars. The ghaik was right about one thing - the Netherbrain’s power is beyond us. At this point, it will take an illithid to unleash the full power of the netherstones. You have the rare opportunity to right your wrongs, to sacrifice for the greater good.”

“What? You can’t be serious.” The words escape him before he can stop them. Orpheus isn’t really asking this of her, is he? 

“One of us must become illithid, I am afraid it is the only way,” Orpheus says, and the githyanki prince has the audacity to sound sorry even as he asks Liv to surrender her soul. 

Liv glances his way, and there is fear there, real genuine fear. She turns back to Orpheus. “I…I suppose if it’s the only way…” Her words are reluctant, edged with regret. She doesn’t want this. She can’t want this. 

He steps between her and Orpheus. “Let’s not be hasty about this. I think this warrants a more private discussion, away from our new friend.” 

Liv looks to Orpheus and then back at their companions apologetically. “If you’ll just give us a moment.” 

He stalks away, trusting her to follow. He’s looking for somewhere, anywhere they can have a semblance of privacy.  There aren’t a lot of options here, and a glance back at their companions shows him that they’re in a deeply heated discussion themselves. 

They come to a stop and he rounds on her. “Tell me you’re not actually considering this.”

Liv’s face is pained, brow furrowed. “You heard Orpheus. The fact that the Grand Design made it this far…it’s our fault. But I can make it right, I can wield the stones and save the city and…I…I can fix it.”

“There are other options.” Like Orpheus for one. He doesn’t give a shit if the prince lives or dies. He could be the illithid. It should be someone, anyone else. Just not her. Not her. 

Liv shakes her head. “He has been imprisoned here for so long…to ask that of him…or of any of our friends. I can’t do that.”

Damn her and her selflessness. This is it, this is where he loses her. There is yet to be a heroic choice she has been faced with that he has seen her flinch away from. Liv is the type of person who would set herself on fire to keep everyone else warm. He just wishes he had told her more often that she doesn’t have to. No one is requiring that from her. But he knows how this ends. 

He knows her. And he knows that no matter what he says, she’s going to do this. 

“I wish I was surprised you’d volunteer. But I’m not…it’s just so perfectly you . Tell me that this is what you really want, and you have my unwavering support.” He hates the way his voice quivers, the way it gives his every emotion away. He’s trying to mean the words, to force them true. If this is really what she wants then well…he’ll try. 

There are tears pooling in her eyes as she stares up into his face. The moment catches, drags on horribly. Her eyes close, the tears running down her face. Finally, she whispers, “I don’t want to be a mind flayer.”

He cups her face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “Then don’t. Let someone, anyone else do it. Please .” He rests his forehead against hers, and when she reaches for his forearms, he can feel the way she trembles. They stay there for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. He can see the turmoil in hers, and he hopes she can see the pleading in his.

“Astarion-”

“Don’t,” he says because he cannot bear to hear her apologies, her justifications for this. 

She kisses him then. It tastes like goodbye.

***

The end of the world feels a lot different than she thought it would. She feels a hells of a lot more guilty than she thought she would, for one. She also feels as though something has broken inside of her, the ability to repress, to push emotions down, and simply keep moving, keeps eluding her. She’s aware that every emotion she feels is too obvious, too open, but she cannot seem to fix it. 

Perhaps it is for the best. With the Emperor’s true nature exposed, their alliance in shambles, and Orpheus explaining that someone must become illithid, a deepset resignation joins the chorus of emotions all demanding to be felt, all at once. Of course freeing Orpheus means sacrifice, as if they all haven’t given enough. 

Which is why it must be her, mustn’t it? She cannot possibly ask any of her friends to do this. She has led them across Sword Coast, to the Hells, and across planes, and they have followed her. And it had all been wrong. They have been misled and manipulated at every step, played into the plans of the very entity they sought to destroy. She could make it right, with one last sacrifice.  But she doesn’t want to. No part of her wants this. 

When Astarion pulls her away from the group, he begs her not to do this. She wishes she could tell him she won’t. She wishes that this was all different. She has no words to make this okay, so she kisses him instead and tells herself it’s going to be okay. 

She’s aware that Astarion is trailing a few steps behind, but she’s doing her best not to look at him. She’s sure if she does, she’ll lose her nerve. As she approaches the group, Wyll steps forward, looking earnestly between her and Astarion. “We’ve been talking. We have an idea.”

Karlach nods. “Maybe you don’t have to. It…it should be me. I’m dying. My heart feels like a living grenade - gonna blow any minute. You still have a life to live. I don’t. If this is the end for me, let me be the motherfucker who saved the world.” Karlach’s words say she’s willing, but Liv can see it in her eyes, Karlach wants this about as much as she does. 

“I adore you,” Liv says, echoing the very sentiment Karlach has so often expressed. “But we’re going to find a fix for that engine of yours, Karlach. I won’t let this be how your story ends.” Liv just needs time, and Karlach doesn’t have to die, not if she goes to Avernus…not forever…just long enough for Liv to solve this problem. She knows she can do it.

Gale steps forward. “I think it’s time we reconsider the orb then. With its power, I could put an end to this whole thing. Crown. Netherbrain. Absolute. Everything. No one will have to surrender their soul to become an illithid.”

“No one is blowing themselves up!” Shadowheart says, heatedly. 

Their group dissolves into a myriad of conversations. Everyone talking over everyone. Liv tries to follow them, but somewhere she loses the thread of it, and the conversations have taken on an angrier tone, arguments rising. 

She turns away from her friends, and takes a few steps closer to Orpheus who stands watching the exchange with sharp eyes. He doesn’t seem thrilled at his would-be saviors, and who can blame him? They have apparently stumbled their way here, blundering along, losing the forest for the trees. And yet, she doesn’t regret it. She has done what she thought was right all along the way, even when it cost her. Sometimes, especially when it cost her. 

But perhaps…perhaps she has given enough. Perhaps she deserves her life, her future, her soul. Astarion had asked her this morning what she wanted to do after this was over, and she hadn’t had an answer, not a real one. But faced with this choice, she is shocked by how much she wants to live her life. She wants to see her future as it happens to her. She wants it more than she’s ever wanted anything. 

It is the most selfish thing she has ever done, but she slowly approaches Orpheus and asks, “Are you willing?”

The arguing behind her immediately ceases. Some part of her is disappointed in this moment, that she was unwilling to accept Karlach’s sacrifice, that she’s unwilling to do this herself. She hates that she is asking Orpheus to become a thing that he despises, the very entity he has been fighting against for millennia. But another part of her keeps insisting: enough. She has done enough.

The githyanki prince closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Just as I was free…” And then he raises his chin, noble and dignified. “I will become - illithid. I will sacrifice my soul for my people. I will end the Grand Design.”

“My Prince, you cannot. It is not your burden to bear,” Lae’zel grabs at her arm. “Please, my people need him.”

“Do not ask this of her!” Astarion snarls. “I don’t see you volunteering, Lae’zel!”

At that, Lae’zel pulls away, head down. No…she doesn’t like this, but she’s not willing to sacrifice herself either. Liv looks back at Orpheus. “You are a true hero.” And she is not. 

She watches the ceremorphosis process take Orpheus. She forces herself to stand witness to every snapped bone, every elongated limb. She will not allow herself to look away from this. This is her doing, and her doing alone. She wishes that it hadn’t come to this, to a choice between giving up her soul and saving the world. But as Orpheus straightens in his new form and the netherstones float into his open palm, all she feels is a profound sense of relief. 

She doesn’t know what that says about her.

All to wield these… Orpheus stares at the stones. Let us seek out the Netherbrain and finish this. Once the Grand Design is ended, kill me. It is the very least you can do. 

“You don’t deserve to die.” 

Orpheus floats close, orange eyes flashing menacingly. I took this burden so that you did not have to. You will grant me this . 

She glances over to Lae’zel who only gives a small, dejected nod. “Alright.”

Orpheus opens up a portal for them, but Liv hesitates for a moment, casting one last glance over the tranquil beauty of the Astral Plane. She takes one final moment before she is thrown back into chaos and battle and unknown. 

Astarion steps in front of her, his eyes full of relief, pride even. He captures her lips in a kiss that is not soft or careful. This is a kiss for the battlefield, all passion and teeth. It burns bright and fierce and fast, over so quickly, she almost questions if it happened at all. 

“We’d better survive this because I never want to stop doing that,” he says, and then he’s gone jumping through the portal. 

She follows and finds herself thrown directly into the mess and chaos of battle. The Netherbrain floats over the Upper City, nautiloids fly beside it, and the streets and gardens are filled with the Absolute’s forces. It is a long and bloody fight up to the Watch Citadel. 

When Kith’rak Voss intercepts them on the steps of the Watch Citadel, she worries that their luck has finally run out. Lae’zel has accepted Orpheus, his new form, but Voss has been planning and plotting for so long to free Orpheus. How must it feel to finally see your friend, your prince, free only to discover that they are a mind flayer? To lose the best chance for githyanki liberty? 

She expects it to feel as if the guilt will swallow her up, but then they open the doors of the tower, and waiting behind them are allies and friends they’ve made along the way. Dammon and their owlbear cub, who is a cub no longer. Jaheira and Halsin. Valeria. Ulma. Arabella. The Gondians. Duke Ulder Ravengard and Counselor Florrick. Dame Aylin and Isobel. Barcus Wroot. Mol and Rolan. Volo and Zevlor. Nine-Fingers Keene…and Percy.

“Liv!” Percy calls, and then her brother appears out of shadow in front of her, arms pulling her into a tight hug. It shocks her, and it takes a moment for her to return the gesture. He holds her close. “No one had seen you since the fighting began. We feared the worst.”

His concern feels real and genuine. “We…uh…had to make a stop and free an ally.” She pulls away and gestures to the mind flayer beside Kith’rak Voss, hanging back from this scene. Their allies are understandably concerned about having a mind flayer in their midst, but Withers, appearing as always at the strangest of times sets everyone at ease.

She turns back to Percy. “What are you doing here?”

Her brother grins. “I promised I’d come when you called, but well, you didn’t call, so I took the liberty of showing up anyway. I’ve got your back.”

And it doesn’t erase all of the hurt and the pain and all of the years of suffering, but it is something. “Thank you.”

“Your little group has managed to amass quite the collection of allies,” he says, a sense of awe in his voice. 

And as she looks around, she realizes it’s true. All these people, friends, and allies. Oh, they might have made mistakes along the way, but they’ve also built this. It is a relief and a comfort to find that they are not alone here at the end of all things. “Yeah, we really have.”

“Credit where it is due, darling,” Astarion says, stepping close. “This is almost entirely Liv’s doing.”

Her brother nods as if he believes it. As if he’s not at all surprised. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Some sort of understanding passes between her brother and Astarion, but she’s not quite sure what it is. It’s gone in a moment. “Now, shall we go kill a brain?” Astarion asks with a smile. 

She nods, as ready as she could ever be, even though she doesn’t know the end.

[marginal-notes]

And another thing, I love your worldbuilding so much. You only give a tiny glimpse of how things work. it gives me the sense that the rest of the world is that detailed(I know you are desperately holding yourself back from including more), and it makes it seem so vast. You include lots of things that just aren’t for Zuko. Like the kid that got so worked up because he didn’t know what an earth rumble was. It makes the world seem alive on its own. I love all the little side quests Zuko goes on to try and regain his name. Because oftentimes life is meandering and you stumble out of your own quest into other people’s story for a bit. Makes it feel realistic. I think it’s funny how you made the Gaang feel like a side quest. On that note I love all the ocs you include, no matter how small their role is. I am a firm believer part of the magic of life is interacting and getting to know strangers. I keep coming back to this fic it is so interesting and beautiful to me. I feel like a zoo crow with an intricate puzzle.

Huauauauaghghgh you’re too niiiceeeee

The first time I read Watchmen in high school, I didn’t fully get all the themes and nuance in the story, but one thing still stands out from that reading to this day years and years later. In one of the chapter commentaries from the artists, one of them mentions that towards the end of the comic series, they stopped being as interested in the main characters and started caring much more about the background characters inhabiting the world.

What were their lives like? What mundane dramas were they dealing with, divorced from all these superheroes messing things up? What were their hobbies, their dislikes, their family squabbles, their friend hangouts? How were they dealing with the rippling consequences inflicted on their worlds by the main characters’ actions?

It’s a sentiment I’ve carried with me since.

This is also something I appreciate ATLA for doing well. I love the charm of the Aang impersonators trying to get into Ba Sing Se. I love the kids of the Southern Water Tribe. I love Omashu’s deranged mail system. And the swamp waterbenders and the community suffering from the Fire Nation’s war factory dumping waste into the river and the uniqueness of each Air Temple and - this is a very good show and I love it a lot.

So yes, I love working on all the little side things that contribute to the world that Zuko and the Gaang live in but might not notice. I love contemplating where the hell Ba Sing Se gets its food from and how the war impacts the diets of the inhabitants in the different rings. I love musing about what a mess continental trade must be on the Earth Kingdom when the Fire Nation navy overwhelmingly dominate the sea routes and the safe zones for travel by land keep shifting. I love pulling on real world fun facts and finding ways to embed them into the story, like Doctor Mihuang sharpening her needles because she can’t afford to replace them and the dumb thing about a food’s nature being too hot.

[baileyboo2016]

1/3

It was a nice evening. The sun was bright but not harsh, the scent of the grass was sweet but not overwhelming, and the breeze was strong but not unpleasant. It was a wonderful evening to celebrate the second anniversary of when he was finally reunited with his beloved Zelda. Other, less pleasant events as well, but Link chose to not dwell on that. It was a nice evening, after all.

Link had decided to stroll along the stream till sunset, when the plan he had in mind would come into action. He had the best surprise planned for Zelda, and oh, she would love it! All the love that he had poured out of his heart into a carving of her loftwing… All that was left to do now was wait. There was no way this could go wrong.

That is, until Link spotten the familiar yellow and brown blur in the horizon. He couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him.

Look, Lanayru was a nice guy. The best of the three dragons, in his biased opinion. But he tended to be a bit… overenthusiastic. Especially since Link had gifted him a small fledgeling as a thank you present for helping him on his quest.

Before Link could think much else, the dragon soared over his head and landed a few yards in front of the skyloftian. Link prepped himself with a deep breath, and turned to face the ancient being.

Lanayru looked around for a moment, maybe looking for Link, before he spotted him, roared “LINK!!!” loud enough for Hylia above to hear, and rushed forward to embrace his favourite knight.

Well, embrace was a soft word. With a dragon his size, plow would be a more accurate word. Link braced himself for impact. It still felt like he broke a rib.

Now that the worst was over, Link beamed up at the dragon. “Lanayru! How are you? I’ve missed you, how’ve you been?”

“Missed me?” Lanayru laughed. “It’s only been three days!”

“Long enough.” Link grinned. “How’s the birdie doing?”

Lanayru’s face darkened considerably. His voice dropped to a solemn, almost mournful tone, as he said, “Well, about that…”

Link frowned. “Did it… did it die?”

The dragon scoffed. “By Nayru, of course not! But… well, see for yourself.”

Link watched, curious and mildly concerned, as Lanayru reached into his robes and extracted the fluffy grey ball of feathers, slightly ruffled looking but otherwise unharmed. Healthy even. Link raised his eyes questioningly towards the wise old eyes of the dragon. Lanayru just nodded, telling Link to watch.

“Hey, Birb?” Lanayru said cautiously.

Link bit back a bark of laughter. Birb? That’s what he had named the fuzzball?

Birb seemed to have no qualms with its name, however, as it looked up to the thunder dragon with a cute tilt of its head. Lanayru glanced at Link as though asking for permission. Link narrowed his eyes, well aware of the dragon’s good natured pranks, but nodded.

“Birb?” Lanayru said again.

Birb looked at him expectantly.

“Zinga-dingding?” he muttered hesitantly.

If it was possible for a little grey ball of fuzz hardly as big as Link’s palm to grin evilly, then that was exactly what Birb did. Link looked at Lanayru, panic written all over his eyes. No, he said silently.

Yes, the dragon said with heavy eyes.

No, Link tried to argue.

Yes, Lanayru tried to tell him.

No! Link was not ready to accept it.

Yes, Lanayru knew Link was fighting for a lost cause.

No! Link was in denial.

Yes, Lanayru had accepted his fate.

All other arguments were snuffed out when a shrill, but clear as a crystal, voice rang out in Link’s ears. “ZINGA-DINGDING!!! ZINGA-DINGDING!!! ZINGA-DINGDING!!! ZINGA-DINGDING!!! ZINGA-DINGDING!!!”

Link clapped his hands over his ears. “LANAYRU!!!” he roared as loud as he could over Birb’s chant.

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT!” Lanayru attempted to defend himself. “I DIDN’T KNOW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!”

“YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE?!” Link was flabbergasted.

“ZINGA-DINGDING!!! ZINGA-DINGDING!!! ZINGA-DINGDING!!! ZINGA-DINGDING!!!” Birb chirped merrily.

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO, I SWEAR!” Lanayru pleaded.

“WHAT THE FUCK LANAYRU?” Link yelled, one second away from pulling his hair out.

“ZINGA-DINGDING!!! ZINGA-DINGDING!!! FUCK!!!” Birb sang.

Whatever retort Lanayru had died down in his throat as he heard Birb’s words. Based on how he looked down at him, Link guessed that he was equally convinced as the knight that Doomsday had indeed arrived.

Link held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Nope. Nu uh. Not today. No. Nope. Never. You deal with this. Your Birb, your responsibility. I’m outta here.”

“Link–” Lanayru began, but the skyloftian was already walking away. To his house. Where he had a surprise planned for Zelda. Which did not involve talking or swearing balls of fuzz. Link had already saved the world once, and he did not want to see it end again. He was too old for this, and that was saying something, seeing as he was barely into adulthood.

He could still hear the ZINGA-DINGDING!!!s of the cursed bird when he slammed the door shut and slid down against it to the floor. He shouldn’t have ever gotten Lanayru a living creature, let alone one that could imitate speech and–

OMG I AM GIGGLING SO MUCH RN THIS IS AMAZING LMAOOOO 😂😂😂😂 DONT GIVE LANAYRU A BIRB YALL

[prysmartin]

Ready Player One's stuck on my mind again, so

I made this account to post long, ramble-y things occasionally that wouldn't fit on other social media sites. Might as well put it to good use!

Fair warning - Ready Player One spoilers ahead. It's been out long enough that I doubt anyone would care, though, especially after taking a brief look through posts with the tag.

It's a story that's a sort of boogieman for me. Every couple of months, my brain meanders back to this part of the woods, sees the beast, and roasts it relentlessly for how ineffective it is, despite its promising appearance. ...Promising appearance? Shoulda gone Intimidating instead, maybe? I dunno, this metaphor was a weird choice.

A few years ago, our teacher forced us to read it and we all went out as a class to watch the movie. The entire class - teacher included - absolutely hated the book, but found the movie fine. Well, outside of the plot holes, at least... What do you mean no one drove backwards in a race for FOUR YEARS? I'd do that in Mario Kart if I was doing poorly! It's funny!

We unanimously hated the book not because most people hated reading - everyone was pretty invested in the class, as it was "writing and literature in video games", and everyone was more than willing to participate and invest a lot of energy in the class - we all hated it because it was poorly written. We had some other points, but I don't want to get too side-tracked from the main thing I wanna focus on.

In the latter half of the second segment of the story, our Protagonist goes out of his way to play Pac-man. There was, like, an entire page or two dedicated to this. I decided to skim this part, since none of it seemed relevant. That is, until the very end, when our protag gets revived by the random quarter he got doing this sidequest. Turns out, the coin was just a free in-game insta-revive you got for playing pac-man on the buggy 256th stage?

This book was filled to the brim with reference slogfests, and every one before this one was basically one-and-done, having little to no impact on the story as a whole, or even the scene it was tied into. How was I supposed to know this was going to be any different? And even if I did know, why would I want to read through all this when it's not obviously moving the story forward in some way? The coin wasn't even mentioned between its introduction and the final battle! (At least, from what I remember. Maybe I skimmed that over too when it was buried in another reference I couldn't care less about.)

The movie, meanwhile, took the coin and tied it into a relevant point. Our protagonist didn't get it from some random side-quest - he got it from the museum's curator, who gave it to him after he went out of his way to research the guy who set up the main plot about acquiring ownership of the virtual reality world. He learned about something impactful to the guy's life, found a relevant piece of information that would help move him forwards, and THEN got this seemingly innocuous coin that would later save him in the final battle. Sure, it wasn't mentioned until the very end either (at least, not that I recall), but because it was better introduced, it felt like an actually earned moment rather than pulling plot armor out of his rear-end.

...maybe that's where he was hiding the coin in the book?

The weird thing is, the basic plot outline of the story was far more impressive. The movie didn't include any segments of the main villains, IAI, blocking off access to one of the keys with digital Wizards and using the fact that the key was in a no PVP zone to their advantage. It didn't include the main character turning himself into IAI under a false name in order to get high in their ranks and sabotage their grand plans. It didn't include one of the five major key-holders getting thrown off a thirty-story building to his death.

The book had all this and more. Its premise was AMAZING and I love the story it was trying to tell. Emphasis on trying. What the book had in potential, it lacked in execution. The movie, while dulled down in its concept, was better built for its creative medium and better realized as a story, even though it was more of an action movie.

If there's anything to take away from all this, tl;dr: Worldbuilding will only do so much for you. As with any sort of creative medium, it's good to dream big, but better to practice with smaller, more manageable projects.

...that last bit is more just good life advice rather than a real takeaway from everything I said before. Eh, whatever. I could ramble more, as I have MANY more problems with the book, but I think that's enough for one post. Plus, this is only my second post on this site...

[misireads]

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

[ physical book, read in english ]

an old, blind man dies, and a junkie with mental health issues goes loot his apartment with his friend. he finds an extremely convoluted manuscript, left behind by the dead man who recited the entire thing to random people who then wrote it all down for him on any surface available. the junkie decides to compile the writings into a completed work and they turn out to be a full academic study, complete with footnotes from numerous academics and authors, on a found-footage horror film called the navidson record. the film is apparently one of the most critically acclaimed and culturally impactful product of its time -- in some fictional alternate universe, that is, which doesn't exist and neither do any of the sources cited in it. in this alleged box-office hit, a family of four moves into a new house in the countryside to start a new life only to one day discover that a brand new doorway into nowhere has appeared in the house. behind the door is only a pitch black hallway, and despite the mother's objections, the father of the family begins exploring it. he manages to pull in a family friend, his estranged brother, and eventually a whole caver group into the mix, resulting in exponentially escalating quests into the depths of the evidently never-ending and ever-changing house. while compiling the navidson record, the junkie keeps adding his own anecdotes and life stories between the story, gradually losing his own grip on reality in the progress as he starts thinking some monster is after him. oh, and apparently the junkie's work was then taken by a DIFFERENT editor who put it together into a book titled house of leaves with THEIR own footnotes.

➕ no way to adequately summarise this book in any fewer words tbh. it's a story in a story in a story that loops back to itself. i was so not prepared for this book, it's the strangest one i've ever read -- not for the layered storytelling (cloud atlas says hello) but for its form and for feeling more like some kind of experimental performance art in writing than a novel. it was a rollercoaster in both the good and the bad, but the good part was definitely never knowing what you're about to get. sometimes you have two pages of footnotes that have all been striked through, sometimes text starts crawling around the page, sometimes it's backwards and/or upside down, sometimes in an increasingly tiny rectangle in the middle of the page. i enjoyed all the creative ways the form of the text reflected what was being said. never before have i been spinning a book around in my hands just to read what a page says. and the chapter talking about labyrinths where you have to go hunting for the footnotes and go back and forth the pages and sometimes it takes you back to what you already read. that was so fun.

➕ surprisingly quick to read despite all the Big Words Whose Meaning I Don't Even Know (and was too lazy to use a dictionary, i can more or less deduce the meaning from context in english). when i first picked this up from the library i was like, no way i'm going to be able to finish a 700-page book in four weeks. but i finished it in two. that's partially thanks to all the pages that only had like 1-5 words of text or just tiny quotes or whatever, but partially because i genuinely couldn't stop reading some days.

➕ i'm so impressed by the author's imagination and dedication to all the details with all the footnotes and their sources. i mean the contents are absolute horseshit pretentious gobblygook but you have to admire the consistency. does danielewski perhaps have autism

➕ this whole thing reads to me like a criticism and satire of academic publications and their long-windedness and grandiosity and excessive use of unnecessary sources, i don't know if that's the purpose but i want to think it is. i'm also very enamored by this fictional universe where professionals all over the world are obsessed with studying a found-footage horror flick. like, this is the equivalent of if paranormal activity was a critically acclaimed piece of art in our time that has a thousand-page academic studies written on it. it only charmingly adds to the absurdism because it's so fucking silly that this would ever happen

➕ finland was referred to like, four times. on the page-long lists of names. there were some alvar aalto mentions in the architecture part. yes i read all of it

➕ that all said, by far the best part of this, the navidson record. that's what i read this book for.

➖ what i did not read this book for is johnny truant. in the first half of the book, his narration keeps cutting the actually interesting parts with his dumbass stories, which clearly is a deliberate choice that comically stretches the excitement with cliffhangers and suddenly inserting two pages of random shit in the middle. but god how little i was interested in reading about him having sex with random hookers. like truly. honestly. sincerely. i Do Not Care and do not want to read it. in the latter half his parts turn into some kind of pseudo poetry and it's not much better than reading about his thoughts on some old woman's breasts and vagina. there's a point where the funny gimmick of cutting the actually worthwhile part of the book off with this gunk stops being funny or interesting.

➖ speaking of which, the gimmicks in general, while entertaining, got old fast. more than five pages of the same, tbh, and you lose me. this author didn't understand to stop when things were still fresh.

➖ i also didn't super care for the chapters where the point is just going on tangents about some minor detail in the navidson record, like pages and pages of what academics have written on echo and, what, greek poems?? about it, only because there's an echo in the hallway that's appeared in the house. and also the entire chapter for what researchers and writers have said about navidson choosing to return to the house. it's insane and not in the good way some parts of this book are. and why so much french

➖ maybe it's intentional since there's apparently ""pages missing"" in that chapter but [spoiler] WHY DID WE NEVER GO BACK TO THE FACT THAT SAMPLES TAKEN FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE HOUSE APPARENTLY DATED BACK TO BEFORE THE UNIVERSE WAS BORN ??? JUST CASUALLY BRUSH THAT ASIDE HUH

➖ i almost forgot one of my biggest criticisms. this book was another one i picked up because some reddit thread on "books that are actually scary" mentioned it many many times. many people said this is the scariest thing they've ever read. was it scary at all? no unless you're scared of french-- alright to be fair the concept of the house was plenty spooky, but there's so much everything else piled on top in this that it's impossible to be scared at any point. the only moment that i could say i got some minor Horror Tingles from was towards the end where [spoiler] johnny suddenly says that his friend is dead, and his death is described in extremely gruesome detail, and then a couple pages later he's talking about his friend again as if he were alive. i liked that one.

➖ the appendices are so boring and disappointing and unnecessary. too many letters from the dead mom. and i was ready to give this book a four but when i had to live through the fucking insufferable pelican motherfuck poems i decided this is a three because fuck you i fucking hate poems, FUCK you

⭐ score: 3½ -- well it was an experience. memorable in both the good and the bad. this after throne of glass, my reading habits are so unhinged

[slowpoke272]

“DRACULA” by bram stoker

finished: march 2, 2023

DRACULAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the best and only way to pronounce the title of this book is ALL CAPS AND WITH MUCH ENTHUSIASM. oh my GOD did i love this book. so much to unpack here, WHEW. let’s start with how it suddenly popped into my queue...

on a weekend away with family, my husband and i stumbled into a bookstore in this quaint sleepy town. what kind of books would this place even have? we wondered around and soon discovered many of the books there were classics. great expectations, oliver twist, a tale of two cities, crime and punishment, vanity fair, the odyssey, twenty thousand leagues under the sea, frankenstein, gulliver’s travels, the jungle books, war and peace, the adventures of huckleberry finn... such a stunning group of classics. i have personally only read crime and punishment, i think my husband has read several of these. alas, we were both milling about the store looking at all its trinkets, but we both kept coming back to this display, mesmerized by the covers which all had a matching aesthetic. it’s funny, being in such a small town as this, where these are probably the most popular, timeless, common books in america, yet these are the ones for sale at the bookstore. there were more, sure, but the classics were screaming at us. also if aliens came down and first went to this town and bookstore, they would be set on books for a while.

my husband chose dracula and i chose the jungle books. he started reading dracula right away and got 3/4 of the way through the book in one weekend, i didn’t start the jungle books until a week or so after that. my husband became ecstatic with dracula and would share how well written it was. we both like vampire lore, to me it’s always just been a character(s) we are told about and there’s no one pinpoint of where it came from or what started it; vampirism is so ingrained in our culture, even people who aren’t into it at all know all the tropes. i had known of dracula just by word of mouth, but i  honestly didn’t even realize until this weekend that dracula was, commercially speaking, the first vampire novel. this is the one that started it all, and GEE GOLLY WHIZ is it a great start. so needless to say, i had to read it, too.

this is exactly the kind of book i’m questing to discover; something i’ve always heard of or known about, but never took the time or had any particular interest in taking the time to actually delve into the actual story. by this point, i’ve heard so much about dracula, i might as well read the actual book and get on with it. this book is timeless, it takes you to another time and place but the language is easy to follow and the writing pulls you in. you feel immediately invested in the characters.

my favorite part, actually, was the beginning when harker is trapped in dracula’s castle. we have no idea what’s going on, how long this will last, but i’m pretty sure harker’s not getting out of here alive. i love how dracula is always a few steps ahead of us, he’s swift enough in the novel just like he would be IRL, escaping from your field of vision just as you believe you’ve been able to focus in on him. despite the narration being shared, we never actually hear from dracula and we never get dracula’s input on anything. the most dialogue we get from him is in the beginning when he’s luring harker in to his realm and castle. then it’s no more mister nice guy, but he still plays it off well enough to get harker to stay.

as far as narration goes, this is probably my favorite format. i love hearing from multiple characters, even if their sides don’t mesh, sometimes especially when they don’t make sense together. this novel also includes newspaper articles that helps keep us informed on the community’s impact of the goings on. the pace is so fast but the letters and articles never feel rushed. even when a character is reporting on an action scene, they have been able to collect their thoughts to properly regurgitate all the pertinent information we need.

van helsing. wow. in my audiobook he was voiced by tim curry which just automatically means i’m gonna adore him, but van helsing as a character was someone i had always heard of in like a metalhead, motorcycle gang kind of way??? but i never knew the context or had any idea he had anything to do with dracula. now i totally get it. doctor van helsing is a total badass and usually the  only one who has any idea of what to do or how to try getting ahead of dracula. he comes up with the plans but also executes. he is the guy. i get it now.

i would read this book again in a heartbeat. the themes and characters will stick with me for some time. i will miss hearing from jonathan, mina, dr. seward, lucy, and the gang. i also appreciated the short but sweet epilogue. this book was just absolutely perfect and thrilling and a great story for anyone, i would think.

rating: 10/10 this deeply resonated with me, i will re-read it again numerous times and recommend it to anyone i know, the story and characters will stick with me forever; crave discussing it all the time and bring it up unprovoked

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Could I order a Ready-Made, Loose Leaf Ginger tea with Cloves and Lavender (Foul Legacy) in Enameled Pottery please with some additional customizations.

S/O didn't originally roll for Childe because they didn't expect to get him and hadn't finished Liyue yet, but got him anyway. So they would lightly bully him (like mocking his voice lines, calling him 'the child' or war criminal. All affectionately) and ended up kinda falling for him. Then their crush ramped up because of the Foul Legacy fight (moth pretty)

Thank you

Requests for this event are CLOSED!!

We have our first customized order! And what a lovely order it is, with lavender and ginger tea!

Let's see what this wish entails...

~ * ~ Digital AU Scenario, inspired by the terms "Discovery" and "Foul Legacy", set in Liyue

Fluff

Digital AU- An AU where Genshin Impact and its characters are seemingly no more than the wonderous programs we know today

Warnings for allusion to battle and fighting

~ * ~ Ten pulls. Ten pulls was all it took for the glowing stars to rain from the clouds, blue and purple and one, to your surprise, shining gold; all it took for several weapons to fall into your grasp, admiring the new four-star sword you received; all it took for stardust and constellations to drop towards your hands, grateful for the improvements to your already decent characters. All it took for him to come home, carried by the one golden star amongst the blue. You stare at your screen, mouth hanging open at the sight of Tartaglia staring back at you. At least, you think that’s his name- you didn’t read the banner very thoroughly to be honest; in fact, you only pulled because your friend dared you to, both joking and laughing about the newest character’s name. Tartaglia; Childe, you think, and snicker. It’s still funny. You just never expected to get him in ten pulls on no pity- how’re you even supposed to build him? He hasn’t appeared in the Mondstadt story or any of the in-game events, to you, he’s an entirely blank slate. One that you didn’t particularly want or need, but the mysterious ginger-haired man was here all the same. You furrow your brows, then set your shoulders. Well. If this is how he wants to play, so be it. With a few clicks you plop Childe into your team, right next to your healer, clinking on his character profile and scrolling through his talent descriptions with your fingers laced together This was going to take a lot of grinding. You loathe to admit it, but Childe quickly became one of the best damage dealers of all your characters. With his Hydro bow and blades he was a force to be reckoned with- it helped that you happened to be a particularly good shot with a bow, although you certainly couldn’t say anything good about Childe’s posture, it was so bad it made you burst out laughing when you thought too hard about it. A lot of things about Childe make you laugh, actually, including when you finally met him in-game. You were so caught up about how wonderfully funny everything involving him was that the Liyue archon quests went by in a blur; something about a dead god and Zhongli and Ningguang and the Fatui. Anything, from Childe’s voice to the way his name was pronounced to his own laugh, made you smile and chuckle. Sometimes you talk to him, or more talk at him, standing there on the screen. You enjoy teasing him, words witty and sarcastic but laced with affection as you call him names, “evil little war criminal” and “child man” being your favorite, and he simply stares back at you, eyes dead as ever and ever-present smirk still on his face. Your friend says Childe’s model doesn’t passively smile. You had shrugged then, saying it was probably a glitch, or perhaps Childe just liked you more. The Liyue arc is nearing its end- all that’s left to do is head to the Golden House to confront Childe, the story Childe, and fight until one of you drops dead. You laugh, for the hundredth time that day, looking at your own Childe standing strong on your screen, bow floating behind his back. You’re going to fight Childe with Childe. Is it a good idea? Probably not, but it’s funny. There’s a long monologue of lore before the fight actually begins, and you actually listen to it, despite your normal habit of skipping dialogue. There’s an almost enduring smile on your face as you watch Childe reveal himself as a Harbinger, something you’re not at all surprised about, and your Traveler blink in shock. At one point his automated gaze flicks directly to your eyes, and your smile widens fondly. Then he winks. You start slightly, grin fading into shock. But Childe’s back to staring at the Traveler, deadened blue eyes trained on their form. It’s a glitch. It must have been, and you shake your head to clear it as the battle commences, your Childe against him. It doesn’t take long to wear him down, not with your Childe built as far as you can push him- not quite level 90, but certainly getting there. You involuntarily wince at game-Childe’s shouts of pain as you whittle down the last bit of health from his Electro Delusion form. The moment you slice away the last chunk of HP, a cutscene plays and you lean back from your keyboard in satisfaction. The cutscene shows your Traveler getting thrown back and away from Childe, and you roll your eyes before returning your gaze to the Harbinger, now surrounded by water. Suddenly he transforms- first his arms and hands, then his legs, then himself- letting out a roar of rage from his new form. You gape in astonishment, admiring the now twice-as-tall Harbinger, covered in dark violet and black armor, mask now situated over his face with horns and a single, gleaming eye. You inhale when he slams his spear into the ground and your Traveler falls beneath the Golden House, before exhaling. “Woah.” For a while you just run around during Phase Three, trying to glimpse Childe’s new form from every angle- you want to see exactly how tall he is, admire the way his starry cape flows, map out the patterns on his armor. His voice, now deep and growly, makes you full on stop and stare, getting hit with several Electro arrows in the process. Your own Childe attacks back, of course, on your command, movements stiff and unyielding. You wish you could stay forever, but the battle ends all too quickly and you’re tossed out of the domain like a ragdoll, mourning the loss of in-game Childe, of Foul Legacy. Slipping your phone out of your pocket, you shoot your friend a message, something along the lines of “dude have you seen Childe’s Third Phase form yet” before glancing back up at the screen. Your Childe is staring directly at you, an unusual frown creased over his features. You let out a yelp and fling yourself back into your chair, eyes locked with Childe’s piercing gaze as concern flashes over his face. He reaches for you, of his own accord, and all you can do is look from him to your untouched keyboard and back, again and again. This is not happening, this cannot be happening- But your shock quickly turns to amazement and you quietly scoot your chair closer to the computer, still staring at Childe. His worry morphs into a smile, a soft, happy one you’ve never seen before, and his hand raises to brush over his heart. There’s a sudden flash of purple lightning, warping and twirling around Childe in a storm of rain and sparks. When the flood dissipates, Foul Legacy floats on your screen and you almost shriek, burying your face in your hands as you attempt to process the fact that Childe is most likely sentient and saw you admiring his Foul Legacy form. If he’s not sentient, he’s a really good AI. Childe purrs, the corners of Foul Legacy’s mouth turning upwards in a smile as he hovers a few inches from the ground, still looking at you through the screen. He reaches out, as if to cup your cheeks, looking slightly crestfallen when he remembers that he can’t. But a single glance at you hiding your face in your hands is enough to make him rumble in satisfaction again, voice growling low and deep from within his chest as he jerks his horned head towards the Golden House. “Don’t you like your own version of me better than that silly puppet in there?”

[deadbonessinderhellaton]

At the same time, the new live action was kind of bad. 

[talesofsonicasura]

JTTW96! Sun Wukong with a Cyber Sleuth s/o

Consider this my practice for any JTTW fics I write in the future. I'll be using the 1996 iteration for this. The Digimon partner for this will be Herissmon mainly because I want to get rid of the sourness that Digimon ReArise left behind on my favorite Digimon. This is merely the build up as a later headcanon will 'tie the knot'.

You don't need to know anything about Digimon. I'll fill in the blanks when it comes up. Cyber Sleuths are basically a detective that take jobs given by Digimon and Humans. This can be read as gender neutral or preferred gender. This is Herissmon! 👇

How you met Sun Wukong could easily be described as a crash landing.

Your latest client needed help finding parts for an experiment of theirs. It didn't sound hard so you and your partner Herissmon took the job.

What you didn't expect was for the both of you to get swept up in a massive storm that came outta nowhere. At least the job been finished before this sudden catastrophe.

Next thing you knew you were falling out of the sky and landed on something fuzzy. In time to look up to at the unamused face of Sun Wukong. Herissmon fell on Zhu Bajie who had kissed the dirt from impact.

This conversation was going to be awkwardly limited cause you knew Journey To The West by heart and anything digital related would go over their heads.

So with help from Herissmon, you made a reliable half lie. That the two of you were adventurers on a simple quest only to get dragged up by a freak storm right after.

Some of Tripitaka's disciples mainly Sha Wujing and Sun Wukong were a bit skeptical but thankfully bought it. Neither of you wanted an unnecessary fight, especially with the Monkey King.

Herrissmon and you were about to leave until Tripitaka offered to join them on their quest. Bless this kind monk very so but all it would do was make Sun Wukong even more suspicious.

Declining the offer, you and your partner left in hopes of finding a place to think. So imagine your damn luck running into the group once again not even three days later.

Apparently the universe or Buddha wanted you together as you guys kept coming across each other on multiple occasions whether it be in the wilderness or a village.

Whenever that happened, you guys would often share information, trade some stuff or have a meal together. Any info given was more of a heads up like proper clothing or supplies needed. Nothing that could practically illuminate the next big challenge on their journey.

This time Tripitaka had gotten kidnapped (again) by a competent yet cocky yaoguai. This one however, could create a barrier invulnerable to every attack. And the only way to shatter it is with a power that is 'otherworldly'.

You know there would be big consequences if Tripitaka got killed but showing your otherworldly nature would put a target on your and your partner's back.

Thankfully Herissmon gave you assurance to make a decision. That they would be with you no matter what. So, the two of you decided to help them.

Getting to the yaoguai's lair wasn't really difficult. Not surprising as they practically gloated enough to have an open door policy.

You all found Tripitaka being lowered to a bubbling vat of stew as the demon lord in question sat in his throne with an audience.

Seeing you and Herissmon had the asshole mocking all of you especially Sun Wukong. About how low he sunken to get help from a lowly human and pitiful yaoguai.

Consider yourself and your partner royally pissed off. The yaoguai didn't gloat much longer when you activated your unique hacking skill: Biomerge.

An ability that allowed you and Herissmon to fuse into a powerful Digimon known as Rasenmon specifically its Fury Mode this time.

Jaws practically dropping when everyone saw the 'lowly human' and 'pitiful yaoguai' merge to an unholy 9 tailed abomination.

Said demon lord pulled up their barrier thinking Rasenmon Fury Mode wouldn't be able to breakthrough. The two of you practically laughed when you tore the barrier apart with your shared claws as if it was wet paper.

You carefully freed Tripitaka from his bindings and looked at all his disciples with an evil grin. "What do you guys say about getting some payback?"

The yaoguai was practically shitting himself from the wicked gleam in the disciples' eyes. Especially the Monkey King's that burned in fiery light.

In short, they were subjected to an all out pummeling from Sha Wujing, Zhu Bajie, Sun Wukong and Rasenmon Fury Mode. Ending the fight with a team attack using Sun Wukong's clones on all of your tails to unleash a vicious Desperate Vortex.

You and your partner let out a proud roar in your shared body before splitting back to your normal selves. The Monkey King practically shouted 'I knew there was something off about you two! Now pay up!'

Those three assholes must've made a bet earlier from how unamused the Tang Monk seemed to be. Herissmon did get him to crack a smile with your personal saying: 'Sometimes humor can help ease one's own tension after disaster'.

Imagine your surprise when you and partner were about to leave, the Monkey King made an offer to join their group. It was usually Tripitaka that kept offering.

Normally you would've turned them down but at this point, you couldn't lie that you gotten attached. For once, you agreed much to the delight of the group and Herissmon.

Things were bound to get crazier from here on out but it wouldn't be so bad. Although did you imagine a relieved look on Sun Wukong's face? Who knows.

The Monkey King would honestly start a betting pool when it comes to shit like this. I've seen a lot of fics and headcanons involving someone from modern times or the 'real world' get sent into a world where it's a considered story there.

I honestly think that shows/games,etc are glimpses of another world written done into works of fiction. That they are 'real' in their own way or reality. Kinda like a Schrodinger's cat in multiverse terms.

Anyway, stories involving this archetype are quite tricky and I've only seen a few done right. Mainly on the appropriate actions to take but the character's presence subtly changing things without any action on their part.

Something that will happen with headcanons such as this down the road. You'll see, until next time folks. Here's Rasenmon Fury Mode! 👇

My distaste for Digimon ReArise has been put at the bottom. Read if you want.

Now, my beef with Digimon ReArise. It's a mobile game I used to play for years since it first came out. Everything was well and good until recent updates came in.

Removal of every previous plugin from the Clash Battle store. Plugins are basically equipment to boost your Digimon's stats. New plugins made for specific Digimon having a limited time to be bought before disappearing and will only come back if the Digimon comes back in the Gacha.

The Gacha in question feeling more rigged than usual. When the game started, I always had a good chance of getting the main Digimon for it. Sometimes I came out with nothing and it really didn't bother me.

But lately I began to notice my pools started to feel off. Too many repeats of common Digimon despite the chances for the Featured ones being much higher. Or that there been an increase of players with those Featured Digimon who were always on top of the board in the Battle Park or Tournament mode and a very sharp decrease for those in lower ranks.

Then came the Super Digimon. Digimon with extremely high stats that could decimate even well prepared teams. Considering how harder it was to get any Featured Digimon which are now Supers, I couldn't keep up in Tournaments.

I couldn't get any new Digimon, even if I grinded my heart out for the currency needed in-game. I ain't paying real cash. I bulked up my team as best I could and put the best plugins I could get. And all that hard work being demolished in seconds by these new Super Digimon, even if they were 50 levels lower.

Something that honestly hurts cause unlike Pokemon, you can't cheese out with strategies using low level and untouched Digimon. It made all the hard work I've done now worthless.

So I mentioned how the gacha felt off and there was the last straw. Imagine having your opinion get scoffed at by not just other people but one of the moderators to the Discord itself. Told that once you 'get on their level' that you can come back and talk. How someone spent over 2000 and more in game currency to not get anything?

I played this game for fun ever since the start. But how am I supposed when you can't even make any sort of progress? And to be told by an administrator to 'Get on their level then come back?'

At this point, the game I once played for two years had become a pay to win. I've played JRPGs before, a whole lot and I know when something is a pay to win. I've stopped playing stuff like it. And thus, I left the Discord alongside deleting the game.

It honestly hurts when something you spent so much time and been part of your own childhood gets turned into something like this. When the new Digimon you love become sour. Then have that shoved into your face rudely.

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

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

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.