#outside of like being a large part of my life for a long period of time and having to mourm that loss

[greenlighted]

i just remembered that eugene left the try guys so now they're not even tre tri guys anymore (which is like SO okay omg) and it does make me sad to see both ned and eugene go (for wildly different reasons, of course, but like both reasons contribute to the main point (and also both of those reasons are my own issues to deal with, not theirs - they have no obligation to make decisions regarding the prioritization of their personal life based on the emotions of their fanbase)). but the constant unrest in all of these subconsciously developed parasocial relationships ive found myself in is like actually so fucking much to process? like jenna marbles last video felt like saying goodbye to my best friend with all the love in my heart and then never seeing her again (i saw her wedding photos and it made me want to cry. i am so happy she's happy and healing and i wish her nothing but the best). but having to let go and mourm the loss of all of these relationships (the good and the bad ones) and process everything that comes with it is so overwhelming (which, again, is like not their issue - i am the only one with any deep emotional devotion to this relationship (not to say that these online personalities can't have genuine care for their audience, because they totally can, but its literally impossible for them to constantly be expected to develop and nurture connections with each an every single one of their fans on a persom level and they also have like literally no obligation to either. the loss of this relationship will literally give me emotions that ill have to bring up to my therapist while they literally do not even know i exist at all and that is entirely my own issue to process and heal from).

[b1asho]

While it's on the mind, here's my wings of fire designs too. Not as much of a brainrot but still fun. Bad take or am I cooking with some of them? Let me know in the comments. Here's some (too many) notes:

I really liked the original designs when I first read these books, but I wanted to try my hand at uhh changing them a little. Mainly making them more distinct from each other (even if this irreversibly breaks canon XD)

-Sandwings live in a mixed savannah and desert habitat and have bodies adapted for resource scarcity, effective hunting, and heat dispersion. They have large ears to help cool off and listen for stuff. They can fly, but pretty weakly in comparison to some others, mainly using flight to navigate their large territories , get onto cliffs, and scan for prey. They typically climb up somewhere and then jump off. They are built like felines, and use a solo stalk and rushdown hunting approach coupled with a sting instakill. They live in family groups, with a ‘queen’ title going to the alpha female 💪 and everyone else hunting and living together. They are immune to their own venom, which acts very similarly to a scorpion’s but in a massive dose, causing numbness, breathing difficulties seizures, and eventually death. It takes time for them to make more once they’ve expended the dose, so they rarely use it outside of hunting or life/death situations (though the prospect of being stung is very scary to everyone else, and they will instinctively raise their tail when startled or threatened)

-Skywings live in high mountainous and forested areas, with some living in the lowlands. They are powerful flyers and very acrobatic due to their tail, though this comes at the expense of their agility on land and the strength of their non wing arms. They have long legs with powerful talons for grasping prey midair or snatching them from off the ground. They hunt and live alone unless they have a partner. Communities are made up of a loose group of related individuals who rarely collect in one place at once(queendom structure are a more recent and ‘unnatural’ thing for them, but very useful for organizing military efforts and empire building). They stay aloft for long periods of time and usually only land on their cliff homes. They need a sprint or a takeoff point to get flying, though. Unlike every other tribe, they have a noticeable difference between male and female (being a nose horn and red face for males.) males are prized for these features, and having a pretty husband is seen as an attractive trait for a queen.

-Seawings live along the coast. They normally only venture out of the water for trade and other resources, since they can get everything else they need underwater. Their large neck houses gills protected by thick pads that will close when on land, while their lungs are in their mid chest. Primarily adapted to swimming, they have very strong tails and webbed fingers and toes. They will also use their wings to steer and paddle, as well as manipulate things their other arms can’t reach. They will hunt in packs, corralling fish and other animals into a kill zone. They are very clumsy on land and in the air with their short limbs and weak wings. Their bioluminescent spots can be flashed for communication, and compared to the other tribes they have pretty poor vocal ability (due to the gills in their neck getting in the way) and will supplement with other spot/sign signals. Every individual has unique spots, though their glowing ones come in consistent numbers, sizes, patterns, and places on their body so they can use them for common language across their group. However, Different groups from different parts of the ocean have different numbers of spots in different areas, making cross communication via only spots difficult. Their whiskers help navigate in close or dark areas, and are seen as a status symbol.

-Mudwings live in warmer areas, specifically marshes and other wetlands (though sometimes in some forested areas too). Their thick armor helps protect them from other mudwings/competition, while also acting as an insulator that allows them to easily venture a wider range than other tribes from warm climates. Physically, they are the strongest and bulkiest. They typically use the element of surprise and their overwhelming size and strength to take down large prey. However, unlike other tribes they tend to eat more plants too due to their large size (all of them are technically omnivores, but meat makes up the dominant part of their diet because of their energy needs and their ancestors). They are also the poorest flyers out of the bunch, having sacrificed that for size and strength, though they can do short bursts similar to a chicken to get to hard to reach areas or to surprise attack prey faster than them, they’re similar to hippos and are adapted to living in the water too, using powerful webbed arms to propel themselves and dig through the mud, and their large lung capacity to stay submerged and hidden for long periods. Their nostrils, ears, and eyes are located near the top of their head, which also gives more room for Tusks. They use these to root around occasionally defend themselves. Tusk maintenance and appearance is very important to them. They live in large groups of families in the same area and have more communal social standards than other tribes.

-Rainwings live in tropical areas and have a very small habitat range. This has caused them to look and act very different than most tribes, leading to poor perception of them. They use their long claws, strong grasping fingers, and prehensile tail to climb around, and are pretty much arboreal. They have wings meant for quick takeoffs and flight in dense areas, and are pretty agile and swift. They and aren’t that great at sustained flight or dealing with high altitudes and winds though . Their frill is delicate and used for emoting (probably originally for mating purposes) Their skin is packed with chromatophores that they can use to match their surroundings, and they have loose ridges in their skin that they can raise to enhance the effect. Their skin is constantly changing color due to their brain activity, though they have set patterns/colors for emotions and communication. They can also choose to focus on organizing their skin patterns to get coordinated colors and patterns, since normally it’s pretty disorganized. They eat a lot more plants due to their environment and due to social standards, but arent herbivores. They have the ability to spit acid out of hollow retractable fangs, and use precise shots of this coupled with their camouflage ability to get prey. They can also spray it at higher velocities for defense and offense, though this expends their supply much quicker. They don’t recognize a queen in their communities and are fairly disorganized into different cooperative groups.

-Nightwings are the result of a group that split off onto an island, though the volcanic activity on their original island escalated to the point where they had to emigrate. They are great fliers, using their wings and tail extensions to travel great distances to track prey and ambush from above. When on land, they aren’t particularly fast or strong, and instead are built for persistence. Their hunting tactic involves getting an initial bite onto prey, then waiting for it to succumb to infection. Their spines, horns, muscles, and talons are mainly for defending their kill from other Nightwings rather than hunting it in the first place. As a result of this competition, they aren’t naturally very social like other tribes, They are mainly nocturnal.

-Icewings live in the colder tundras and snowy forest environments. They are pack hunters, using their speed and persistence to take down prey, similar to wolves. Their long overlapping scales help them trap heat and survive in the cold, and while the guy i drew here is pretty skinny they also store fat much more readily than other tribes. Their bowed wings are mainly used to swoop in in prey, and like falcons they often take steep dives to grapple it. Their antlers only grow in at a certain time in the year, but royalty will wear embellished artificial ones in the meantime.

[apollo1three]

Hello! can I plz request the obey me bros with their children, you can choose if u want them to be their daughter, son or multiple. i just really wanna see them as like dads, like a scenario maybe when they learn to walk or say their first word you dnt have to if you don't want to! and if it's too much can i have just Beel Mammon or Lucifer :3

AHH MY FIRST REQUEST!!! I’m sorry for taking so long! I haven’t checked my dusty musty crusty a$$ inbox in a while ;-; also nonnie u don’t understand how much I love domestic, sappy, fluffy af stuff like this <3<3

Ofc I’ll do all of em, but I’ll do them in parts so you don’t have to wait for me to finish all seven ^^

------

An unimaginable type of love (Lucifer x f!reader)

The demon brothers with their babies (1/7)

Demons are not born, he once told you; they manifest – either as a product of great sin or demonic energy. Demons do not feel the need to procreate, they cannot- they do not get pregnant, and they certainly do not give birth.  

So how is it that the Morningstar finds himself staring down into sparkling crimson eyes, reminiscent of the deep shade of his, with a softness akin to yours? How is it that he cradles a squirming bundle made from the love between him and his human wife?

With a life only ever dedicated to servitude, Lucifer would’ve never dreamt of creating a family of his own. Never in his time in the celestial realm would he have imagined small, fragile little arms, reaching out for him to hold them in his. Never could he have imagined the possibility of a being regarding him in the sentiment with which he had once regarded Him.

He eyes your sleeping form, snuggled into the comfort of the large bed, and he’s overcome with a fondness that words could not explain the level of. To be loved unconditionally by you, and to be given the most precious gift of all. What had he done to deserve such a thing? - something that was once an unfathomable idea - did he deserve it?

He cradles his daughter in his arms, stroking her little face, and the giggle she lets out is so precious, so much like you, and has him nuzzling his nose into her puffed up little cheeks. You had once light-heartedly complained to him about carrying her in your stomach for nine months, only to have her come out identical to him. Though he'd never admit it, your husband was proud of the notion (at the time, you swore you could see puffed up feathers behind his form), but it was irrefutable how the child carried herself with a poise that was undeniably like yours: a mischievous, yet endearing glint in her eyes that surely meant trouble in the foreseeable future. Lucifer didn’t mind, though.

He mutters, “my darling, what are you doing up so late at night?”, to which his only response is a squeal and few kicks of tiny feet. He tuts back, playfully. “So noisy, my love. Won’t you let your mother sleep?”

There’s a slight breeze from the open balcony, and he gets up from his side of the bed with your daughter rocking gently in his grasp. “Let’s go outside for a bit, come now.”

The way he carries her is careful, protective, and much more assured than the way he had first carried her after her birth. He wasn’t used to dealing with humans, let alone any living thing, in their infancy. Angels and demons did not have an infantile period, and it shook him inwardly the first time he held her, so small and breakable. You, a fully grown human woman, were fragile enough as is – but a human infant? It took some stern reassurance that the child he considered so small and breakable was his just as much as she was yours for his paranoia to waver.

‘She’s ours, Lu.’

(Fatherhood. Such a human experience, and he had only you to thank for it.)

Ushering to the Devildom fireflies, she blows raspberries that makes him want to litter his daughter in even more kisses. So he does, far more unreserved than if it were in front of you (while he loved you and trusted you with his heart and soul, showcasing such unabashed doting was still awkward for new to him). So disgustingly affectionate; the past him would’ve laughed at the notion of such outwards display of emotion directed towards anyone or anything – a hit to his pride, to the very thing he embodied. But to the him right now, such a thought never even crossed his mind.

“Do you see that, my love? Aren’t they pretty?”, he smiles softly, tenderly, eyes creasing at the corners. He pokes at her mouth, now endlessly razzing. “Alright, who taught you to do that? Was it Uncle Mammon? Belphie?"

To the him right now, his pride was in the form of his beautiful wife, and his darling little girl.

“Daddy will always protect you two, I swear on it.”

Absentmindedly stroking her head, a thousand thoughts run through his head. He contemplates heading back inside as the wind picks up, worried you might be getting cold. You’ve been all over the baby since she arrived (and even before then, too), insisting that her crib be placed in the both of your bedroom (much to Asmodeus’s chagrin, adamant that your old room would make the most beautiful human-realm-esque nursery) – while your motherliness was extremely attractive (or rather, all of you), and despite your daughter being an unusually well-behaved little thing, you deserved some quality rest.

He heads back, moving to lower her into her pink-embellished, Avatar of Lust™, crib, but freezes.

“Da..da!”

His movements are miniscule, microscopic, as he looks down at the cooing and giggling tot.

“Say- say that again, darling.”

“Dada!”

Time seems to slow, and he’s overcome with so much fondness, so much love.

“Haha! That’s right, here’s Dada..!” He practically throws her up into the air, accompanied by more squeaky giggles, and if anyone asks: no- his eyes don’t water (it’s merely the brightness of the Devildom moon).

Amidst childish laughter, she says it once more.

He lets out a shaky laugh of disbelief. His eyebrows are furrowed, and there's an uncharacteristically toothy grin on his face. Slowly, trembling hands (a fault of the temperature, obviously, despite him once mentioning the immunity of demons to things as 'trivial' as the weather) press his daughter's small body to his chest.

His daughter. His. His daughter. His wife. His brothers. His family.

It was then that he realised, although perhaps he had always known, that the love he felt for you and the life the two of you had created was different from His love. It was unconditional. The sort of love that allowed him to understand Lilith, the sort of love that he would gladly die for, kill for, be destroyed for. The sort of love that was once unattainable, unimaginable, was now closer than ever.

Lucifer wanted to share this moment with you.

“M-MC!”

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Somewhere only we know

Part 1

Young Daryl Dixon x Reader (no apocalypse AU)

Read part 2 here

Synopsis- No outbreak and modern ish day AU (set in 2007-2010 era) Reader moves to the Georgia mountains, to live with her dad for her final year of school, as her mum is going travelling with her new husband. She meets a shy redneck boy with a tragic background, who immediately captures her heart.

Warnings - mentions of abuse, tragic upbringings, mentions of injury, feelings, friends to lovers, judgemental town people, readers dad is a sweetheart, reader has good relationships with both parents, but her mum is described as flakey and free spirited. My terrible writing as always (this is me practicing 🤣) slow burn, no outbreak, not cannon at all obviously, love confessions, reader sticking up for Daryl, both reader and Daryl being protective, smut in later chapters but not this one.

Let me know if I’ve forgotten anything

Word count - 3.8K

It was the start of fall, leaves were beginning to change and a cooler breeze was starting to hit the small town you were now going to call home. Green valley resided in the mountains of northern Georgia, population 680 people. It was where your Dad had bought a mountain cabin, just outside of town with a 100 acre orchard. He had purchased the property just over a year ago, in hopes of a slower life. He sold his Californian condo, and made the lengthy move to Georgia.

Your parents divorced when you were 12 years old, it had been a long and lengthy process, and they hadn’t left on the best of terms. Your mum took sole custody of you, but you stayed holidays and the summer period with your dad. Even so you had a great relationship with both your parents, growing up had been pretty uneventful, though your mum was somewhat of a free spirit. Now you were 18 years old, in your final year of high school and full of life. You’d inherited the free spirit of your mother, but the hard working mind of your dad.

Your mum had moved on with her life re marrying a lovely man called Ari, he was also very much a free spirit, and they’d planned a two year travelling trip together. This is what had lead you to leave your shared home in Arizona, and move in with your dad at his new mountain home. You had a good feeling about this move, maybe small town life would suit you? Would it be quieter life or an adventure? You didn’t know, but you were excited to find out.

Perched on the passenger seat of your dads Chevy truck, you drove through the valleys and mountains in comfortable silence. Taking in the sights, the gorgeous autumn colours and breathing in the fresh air. You wound down the window letting your arm fall out, pushing your fingers through the wind.

“It’s good to have you home kiddo” your dad admitted, “It’s going to be nice having you with me again” he continues, nodding contently to himself.

“Yeah” you smile, “I’ve missed this, the two of us hanging out”. He turns to give you a genuine smile, it must be lonely being in the mountain lodge by himself, you decide. Pulling up outside the cabin you gasp “wow” you exclaimed, it’s much bigger and prettier than the pictures he sent you showed. A beautiful stone wrap around porch and neat log exterior, there’s a few planted trees out the front, and gas lamps adorning the entry way. It looked like something out of a fairytale, and you were incredibly excited to see the inside. Taking your phone out, you quickly snap a few photos to send your mum.

Your dad smiled at your childlike wonder as you admired the cabin. “I’m glad you like it honey bee, let’s get you all settled in”. The inside was just as lovely, large brick fireplace and open planned living downstairs, three large bedrooms with en-suites and a study upstairs. Your dad showed you to your room, then gave you space to unpack and settle in. Once unpacked and showered you came down to your dad serving dinner, “I don’t know if your hungry, but I made your favourite, at least I hope it’s still your favourite?” Your dad asks with a small laugh.

“It most certainly is! Thanks dad”

“Good” he nods.

“Ummm God, this is amazing” you groan happily. Your dad huffed a laugh, “I forgot how good your cooking is! Mum’s terrible, we end up with burnt dinner or takeout most nights” you laughed.

“Well I’m glad to get a proper home cooked meal into you then!”

“Soo I spoke to your new head teacher and the school is giving you this next week off, to you know settle in. Then you start a week Monday, so I thought you could spend some time this next week, getting to know the town and the area. We can go for lunch tomorrow in town if ya like?” Your dad explained.

“Yeah that all sounds great dad” you agreed.

One whole week to settle in, yeah that sounds ok you thought. Gives me time to maybe get to know some people too, get to know the route to school. You ate in comfortable silence, before helping your dad clean up and get an early night, it had been a long day and you were exhausted.

_______________________________________

The next morning you woke to birds chirping and leaves rustling. Golden rays were casted through your window causing a warm glow, floating dust particles visible in the streaks of light. A soft breeze was filtering in through the small crack you left open last night, hoping to remove some of the evenings humidity. You determined right then that waking up like this in nature was wonderful, no cars honking or children screaming like the busy neighbourhood you lived in back in Arizona, just peace.

You spent the morning folding your clothes into draws, setting up your laptop and organising your desk space. Before getting ready for lunch out with your dad, you decided faded jeans and a band tee would work, it was exciting to get out and see your new local town, but a little overwhelming too. It was a big change from your life before, and an adjustment period would definitely be needed. Nonetheless it was nice to be spending some quality time with your dad.

“You ready to go kiddo?” You dad calls up the stairs.

“Yeah! Now coming” you yell back, bounding down the stairs.

Driving to town didn’t take long, you watched out the passenger window paying attention to the area and the amenities. The lakes, mountains and colourful leaves were so picturesque.

The town centre was small but well equipped. From what you could tell there were a few restaurants, at least three coffee shops, a hardware shop, a post office, a supermarket, a couple of convenience stores and a surgery. Not including the school and garage on the outskirts.

Pulling up outside a small timber clad diner your dad parks and grins at you, “Your gonna love this place! They have the best pie and great views of the lake” he stated. “Awesome!” You reply hopping out the truck.

Walking inside you take in the place, there’s large windows placed all along the back of the diner, looking out directly onto the lake, there’s warm lighting and the whole place has a very cozy feel. An older woman about 60-65 years old you guessed came bouncing over. “Well hi Allan it’s good to see you, this must be your beautiful daughter I’ve heard so much about?!!” She gushed

“Hey Susie how are you? You’d be right, this here’s my daughter y/n” your dad replied to the bubbly woman.

“Hey it’s nice to meet you” you added

“Isn’t she a sweetheart Allen, you must be so proud, you know y/n your dad here hasn’t shut up about you coming for weeks now” she sang, playful glint in her eyes. You smiled kindly back at her, feeling relatively embarrassed by the attention. “Well you choose a seat hunni, and I’ll be right over to take your orders” she continued before walking off.

“She seems friendly” you stated. Your dad lets out a laugh at your uncomfortableness, “Yeah, small town honeybee. Everyone knows everyone here and they all talk, a lot” he emphasises. “Hmm” you sigh this was something you’ll need to get used too.

You chose a seat with a view by the large windows, and as if reading your mind he hummed “You’ll get used to it.

After lunch you both walked through the town, while your dad stopped at the convenience store to collect some necessities, you busied yourself looking through the aisles, choosing some snacks for yourself. You could hear your dad chattering to the woman on the cashier, everyone in this town really did know everybody. When you looked up your eyes met a pair of bright blue, belonging a boy around your age with scruffy light brown hair, worn clothes and a couple of cute moles adorning his face. You smile at him, he offers a small smile back before looking away bashfully. “Hi, I’m y/n” you offer, “Daryl” he mumbles back.

“It’s nice to meet you Daryl, do you live around here?” You ask.

“Yeah umm not too far, jus down by da creak” he replies. You offer another warm smile, “I’ve just moved here with my dad, maybe I’ll see you round?” You add. Daryl nods looking at his feet, he seems incredibly shy you think.

“Y/n, you done?” Your dad calls, you follow his voice to the checkout and hand him the two candy bars you’ve chosen. “Just these please” you confirm. You look back to the other end of the shop seeing Daryl chatting with another guy, probably in his late 20s.

“I wouldn’t talk to that boy if I were you” the lady on the cashier interrupts your thoughts. You take the time to read her name tag ‘Wendy’ “Hmm” you reply “why not? He seems nice enough, awfully shy” you continue.

“They are the Dixon’s the taller one is the older brother Merle, he’s always causing trouble, in and out of jail. Their dad is a drunk, and lord knows he hits those boys. The older ones left home now but comes back frequently. Daryl’s in school still so he still lives with his dad. It’s only a matter of time before he starts behaving the same way, I’m sure of it” she rants in whispered hush. You frown, you don’t like that. He’s done nothing wrong yet, but already branded by the town because of his family. But before you can say anything your dad pipes up “Well we best be going, lots to do before this one starts school”. “Well good luck sugar just pay mind to what I said, you seem like a sweet girl, and this town talks” the cashier lady implores. You give a tight lipped smile before leaving with your dad.

The walk back to the car is deadly silent and you are stewing your inner monologue ‘how dare she’ and ‘if she knows he’s hitting the boys, why hasn’t anything been done?’. Your dad turns to you reading you like a book, “Hey I get it, you don’t like injustice I know that” he interrupts your thoughts, looking up at him you sigh “It just doesn’t seem fair”. “I know baby girl, if you want to befriend that boy, you do it. I know we raised you to be kinder than that, and hey you could use a friend” he replies. You smile at him “Yeah maybe I’ll see him at school” you nod agreeing with your dad.

_______________________________________

Three days pass in a blur, you sign up to the local surgery and check all your medical details have been passed over correctly. You find the local library and spend most of Monday getting lost in books, you try a local cafe and enjoy drinking your coffee while walking around one of the lakes. You even chat to a few locals, getting to know the town better. But your mind keeps reeling back to the boy with the blue eyes, Daryl Dixon, you’d never met someone so painstakingly shy before, and your a bit shy yourself hating being the centre of any attention.

Wednesday comes around and you need to pop by the school to get your class schedule, your dad takes you so he can get any needed information too. Stood in the principles office, going over everything you’ll need, your mind wonders off. While your dads chatting up a storm, your gaze wonders out of the window.

You spot him sitting under a tree with a sketch pad or writing book in his hands, it’s too far away to really make out. But he’s sat all alone, while all the other kids hang out in their favoured groups, Daryl just sits by himself quietly. This boy has really intrigued you, does he not have any friends to sit with? Are the kids in this school as cruel as the narrow minded adults who roam this town.

“Excuse me miss” you interrupt, “Could I please have a wonder round? Get my bearings before Monday?” You ask politely. “Yes of course you can dear” she replies handing you a piece of paper “Here’s a map, so you don’t get lost, take half an hour or so, there’s a lot I need to go through with your dad here anyways” you explains. You nod thanking her before exiting the room, one mission in mind, finding your way over to Daryl.

Navigating the schools corridors wasn’t too difficult, and you found yourself by the back doors which lead the the playing field fairly quickly. You spotted the large tree smiling to yourself when you found he was still sat underneath its shady branches, lost in whatever he was doing. You slowly approached trying to not startle him, when your figure casts a shadow he looks up squinting from the suns rays, slight frown between his brows. “Hey” you hesitated, worrying now that you had overstepped. But once he realised who you were he visibly relaxed, “Hey yer the gurl from da store Saturday rite?” He questions, his southern drawl thick ‘and adorable you find’ “Yeah that’s me, do you mind if I sit?” You ask, he gestures for you to go ahead, so you ungracefully plop down next to him. “What year are you in if you don’t mind me asking?” You request, smiling at him slightly hoping to put the shy boy at ease.

“I’m in ma final year, tho this is ma second time tryin’ I’m nineteen. You?” He replies, he’s nervously fiddling with a small twig on the floor, cheeks tinged pink. “I’m in my final year too, I’m eighteen. I’ve just moved here from Arizona. I was living with my mum, but she and her new husband wanted to go travelling, so umm I came here to live with my dad for a while” you explain.

“So wat ur ma just made you leave?” He questions small frown returning.

“Oh no no, not at all” you reply crossing your arms in motion with your reply. “No I decided to live with my dad again, I’ve missed him and it’s quieter here, I was ready for the change” you continue. Daryl gives you a Quick look before nodding at your statement.

“You startin' here soon den?” Daryl mused, “Yeah I start Monday” you reply with a smile, your eyes meeting his blue. Daryl looks forward then his brows pinching together, “Well I wudnt be seen wiv me if ya hopin’ to fit in wiv everyone here” Daryl sighs. “I don’t care what anyone here thinks, and you shouldn’t have to feel like that Daryl” you affirm. He turns to you worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, you can tell he’s not used to this, kindness, and it breaks your heart. He makes a small grunt, before fiddling with the twig again. “Anyways I like you Daryl, I’ll look forward to seeing you again Monday” you smile, before getting up to head back towards the school to find your dad.

Daryl watches after you as you leave, face as red as a tomato. He’s never had someone actively seek him out before, and he doesn’t really know how to take it. But he likes you too, you seem sincere and kind, there’s not many like that in this town. He smiles thinking that maybe he himself is looking forward to Monday too.

_______________________________________

It was Friday morning and by now you were becoming a little stir crazy, your dad was great he really was, but he was aloof at times. You think he was trying to give you some space, maybe you were just so used to your erratic mother constantly talking your ear off, and her demonstrative personality. Therefore making your dad seem rather quiet and distant, he checked in to make sure you had what you needed though, and he always spent meal times with you.

This morning he was tending his orchard, getting it ready for the autumn harvest, you knew he had hired some helpers to help him sort things, he’d said this may take most of the day, so you needed to find a way to entertain yourself.

After sipping your morning coffee peacefully on the porch, watching the trees rustle in the breeze, you decide maybe a hike in the forest would do you the world of good. So you pack up a bag of necessities, grab your hiking boots, a map and set off.

As you walk through the forest trails, the sun casts through the trees causing halos of soft glowing light, dew drops hang off branches and it’s all breathtakingly beautiful. You pause for a moment breathing in the forest air, and listening to the sounds of nature, until you hear a soft sniffle. You quietly pad yourself in the direction of the sound, it was definitely a person softly crying ‘what if someone’s hurt or lost’ you think. So you hastily make your way over, coming to a small clearing, where there’s a beautiful tiny meadow tiny flowers and fluffy dandelions fill the space. But there sat in the middle is Daryl, he has his head in his knees and his arms are hugging his legs.

You slowly walk over towards him treading as lightly as possible to not startle him, but he hears you instantly, his head snapping up in your direction. “Wat do yer want” he snaps, you recoil slightly, however you can see he’s hurting so you swallow it down and continue your way over. “I heard you from back there, I was out on a walk” you reply hesitantly. Daryl nods wiping his eyes with the back of his hands ferociously, you can see he hates to be seen in such a vulnerable moment.

You plonk yourself down next to him “Want to talk about it?” You ask. He debates this for a moment, he hates being open and vulnerable, but he can’t remember the last time he had anyone to talk too, Merle was never emotionally available, hell he was barely ever physically available these days. So he swallows down his pride “Ma dad was out last nigh drinkin, came in about three this mornin’ I woke up from his bangin, tried ta help him ta bed. He didn’t take it too well” he sniffled, Daryl looks at you then and you can’t help the small gasp when you see his eye, which was clearly hidden by his mop of hair before. It was black n blue and very swollen.

“Oh my goodness Daryl! One second I have a iced water bottle in my bag” you swallowed, you search through your back pack pulling out the bottle and the spare vest top you carry, wrapping the bottle in the fabric you place it over his eye as gently as you can muster. He still flinches, like you were going to hurt him and your heart shatters. “Here it will help with the swelling and bruising” you offer, and he lets you help him then, carefully watching you as you hold the iced bottle over his bad eye. He’d never had anyone look after him like this before, never been nobody who cared enough to help him. He finds himself leaning into you then, and you have to hide your smile by biting your bottom lip. You notice then his lips bust too, dried blood around it “Here hold this in place, I have some alcohol wipes in here for those cuts” you affirm, letting go of the bottle and searching you bag once more. Finding your small first aid kit you pull out the wipes, ripping the packet before shuffling closer to him again. “This may sting a little sorry” you sympathised, he lets out a small hiss as you gently place it on his lip, dabbing the alcohol into the cut and cleaning off the blood, before doing the same to the cut on his eyebrow.

“There all done, just keep that ice on your eye for a bit ok” you advise. “Ok” he agrees. You spend the rest of the day with him, chatting about everything, even if it was you doing most of the talking. You find out that the meadow is halfway between both your homes, he tells you more about his dad and how nothings ever been done because people don’t care about rednecks like them, Merle got away, got involved in drug deals and fights, left Daryl to deal with their abusive father on his own.

Daryl tells you how he spends most of his time in the forest when he’s not at school, to get away from his dad, but that his father barely notices when he’s gone. He hadn’t gone into school today after his dad beat him, he just ran here. You decide then you’d do your upmost to help him, there was just something about this boy, he captured your attention that first day in the shop, but just a few days in and he’s already stolen part of your heart.

By then time you arrived home early that evening, you had a unmissable smile on your face, your dad notices straight away “You enjoy your hike honey bee? Thanks for the note I’d have worried otherwise” he comments. “Yeah it was nice, I spent the day with Daryl, bumped into him on the trail” you smile. “Ah I see, I’m glad you’ve made a friend” he answers “You hungry? Dinners almost ready” “Yeah starving!” You declare.

Laying in bed later that night you pull out your phone, you’d exchanged numbers with Daryl earlier and couldn’t wait to message.

‘Hey, fancy a walk around the south lake tomorrow?

Y/N’

‘Yah sure, thnks fer today, 10am ok?’

You grin instantly at his reply,

‘Yeah perfect, meet you there? Or I can pick you up?’

‘Nah I’ll meet ya there’

‘Ok see you tomorrow, goodnight Daryl’

‘Nite y/n’

You were really looking forward to tomorrow now.

_______________________________________

[therealieblog]

A big part of Intuitive Eating involves the de-stigmatizing of food. How do we de-stigmatize food? By not assigning it moral qualities, and by not using derogatory, negative language when we talk about food.

Examples of moralizing, derogatory and negative language we, under diet culture, still use regularly when talking about food:

"Sinful"

"Fattening"

"Unhealthy"

"Deadly"

"Bad for you"

"Clean"

"Pure"

"Healthy"

"Good" "

Junk/Junk food"

"Crap/Crappy"

Words to use instead of: Instead of "Sinful", or "Fattening", use "Decadent", "Rich" or "Delicious". Avocados and dark chocolate and many organic, "healthy" foods will make you fatter if you eat them often enough. Is this really about health? Or is it about fatphobia?

Instead of "Unhealthy", you can just say what it is about the food that impairs your health. "It hurts my stomach," "It makes my skin greasy/makes me break out", "I'm allergic to it" "I feel nauseous when I eat that." That at least is honest. Saying any food that isn't on some diet culture list of approved foods is "unhealthy" is just not scientifically accurate or backed by anything other than fear mongering.

Yes, eating foods high in fat and salt and sugar in large enough quantities, for long enough periods of time can negatively affect your health, but the vast majority of studies done on exactly how it affects your health, do not control for participants' smoking, drinking, drug use, genetic predispositions (genetics makes up a significant portion of health by the way), sedentary lifestyle, exposure to chemicals in the environment, mental health status, or literally anything outside of what they eat, so... yeah... f@ck that.

Ditto with "Bad for you." It's just so formless and un-researched and based in fatphobia. What does that even mean? In what amount is it "bad for you?" would it be equally bad for anyone to eat "unhealthy" foods at any time? Is there a magic threshold past which one's donut consumption goes from infrequent to "bad for you" levels? Or, are human beings a wildly diverse group of people, who all have very different bodies, metabolisms, genetics, tolerances, tastes and needs.

"Clean" is just as bad as "Bad For You", only worse, because it's so moralistic. If food is made out of animals, plants and grains, and is considered edible by human beings, it's fucking clean. Now if you're talking about gross things falling into the food by accident during the process of making it, or if you're talking about pesticides being used on your fruit and vegetables, then I get wanting to make sure the food is "clean". But if you're putting food on some sort of angelic pedestal for being free from sugar, or saturated fats, or carbohydrates, then you are still stuck in diet culture.

Instead of "Junk food", which implies that the food itself is garbage, which is honestly just a horrifying way to think about and talk about food, you could say "play food", "fun food", "snack food". These foods: chips, chocolate, cookies etc. aren't meant to fulfill your nutritional needs. We eat them for enjoyment, or to pick us up when we're blue, to calm us when we're stressed, or just because it tastes good and we like eating it. I think gentle nutrition is important, and paying attention to how food makes you feel is obviously important, but the way we perceive food and talk about food, reinforces what we think of ourselves when we eat it. If we are eating "bad" and "unhealthy" foods, then we are bad and unhealthy people, and that is a mind-fuck, believe me.

I've performed a 25 year longitudinal dieting study on myself. I know what it feels like to absolutely hate myself for what my body tells me it wants to eat. Not fun. So please have a care with the way you speak about food, and the way you look at yourself in relation to food. Food is sustenance and life. It is meant to be enjoyed, not feared. Lets not talk about food as if the thing meant to connect us to life also makes us inherently morally deviant.

[falmerbrook]

Snow Elf culture?

*pulls up a chair*

Perhaps...

A wee disclaimer that I'm not particularly good or creative with developing cultures or societies, but my brain has just latched on to the snow elves in a way where I can't stop myself. But anyway

I developed a lot of this because of a big ass draft for a fic I've been writing on and off about Gelebor and Vyrthur, so a lot of my headcanons are religion heavy. I'll start there:

Gelebor seems to place Auri-El and the Chantry of Auri-El as having significant importance to the Snow Elves over the other gods/temples. He's probably got a bit of bias in that regard since he's devoted his life to Auri-El, but in order to differentiate their religion from the other elven ones I like to think that their religion in general worshipped Auri-El as not even just as the figure head of their pantheon, but almost monotheistical, while the other gods (Trinimac, Syrabane, Jephre and Phynaster according to Gelebor) were like minor divine figures or just legendary heroes even more than in Altmer myth, depending on the interpretation. My idea is that if their culture had been allowed to continue on, it would've eventually become monotheistic, but by the arrival of the Nords they were in a bit of an awkward transition period with it.

I also like to lean into the sun motif with Auri-El that they established in Dawnguard and with Auriel's Bow, partially because it's another thing to make their depiction of him more unique, and in part because it makes some very juicy irony for Vyrthur. Some ideas include:

- The more religious folk tend to pray at noon when the sun is at it's highest. - The two biggest snow elf festivals happen on the summer and winter solstices. As far north as they are, the summer solstice is during a time of year where the sun barely sets and the winter one is during a time of year where it barely rises. The summer one is more jovial and celebratory, with a grand feast. With almost 24 hours of daylight, the festivities last up to three days straight, with folks commonly staying awake for over 24 hours. Most of it is spent outside, with the celebration being focused on making the most of the weather and daylight hours to spend as much time in the sun and the light of Auri-El as possible. The winter festival is as large scale but lasts longer and is lower-key. It also involves a feast but features more winter foods and meat and alcohol. It is more pensive. At this point in the year, there is no full daylight, and so this season is seen as a test of one’s faith and mental fortitude. This festival acts as a break from this trying time, taking time to relax, build community (a strong community will allow them to make it through the winter and strengthen their minds), and bond with family and friends. It is about a weeklong break, where leading up to the festival everyone works harder to prepare for it and allow themselves to have the break. There are activities and festivities, but they remain indoors for the most part and are smaller. - I've referenced this before, but with long winters with little sunlight (due to harsh weather and short days), they see that time of year as a reflective test of will and faith.

Due to their proximity to dragons, it was hard to miss the connection between Auri-El (/Akatosh) and dragons, and so their depiction of Auri-El is either much more influenced by the iconography of dragons, or is a dragon (although their depiction of dragon Auri-El is much more benevolent than the Nord/Atmoran one). I got the idea for this one from this Reddit post (i know I dog on Reddit a lot but this one has got some fun stuff in it, even if it's a bit out there)

^On that note, later in the timeline (post Dragon War (the timeline is very fuzzy on when this and the Night of Tear happens. They are both sometime vaguely in the late Merethic Era I believe, but it's unclear which happens first or how long each conflict is)) some Snow Elves see a sort of unreturned, unofficial comradery with dragons, seeing themselves as both on the receiving end of the Nord's/Atmoran's brutality (disregarding whether it was warranted or not in the context of the Dragon War).

Ok here's some more general cultural ones:

I mentioned my reasoning for this in this post, but I like to think their general settlements were not as permanent, with a larger focus on wood and building into the sides of hills (good for warmth), while their temples tended to be made of stone and much more permanent. This is why there are so few identifiable Snow Elf ruins across Skyrim. Their cities and towns were easy to wipe out, scavenged for resources, or were in good places for Nordic cities (perhaps Bromjunaar was originally the site of a Snow Elf city?), and their temples were either very hidden (e.g. the Chantry of Auri-El) or eventually converted to Nordic temples.

I love this journal in general for gleaning ideas for Snow Elf headcanons for, but one interesting this is the use of "Old Ones" and "Young One". They're treated like established titles. From that I like to think they place a lot of emphasis on the respect of those older than you. The social hierarchy and whose opinions are most valued is heavily influenced by age. Folks call anyone older or more revered “Old Ones” as a term of respect, and anyone younger than them “Young Ones”. Old One is almost never used in a demeaning way, but Young One can be (not always). Typically, “Old Ones” is used in the third person (e.g. you wouldn’t refer to someone directly as “old one”) whole “Young One(s)” can be used as an epithet for someone directly or in third person.

When thinking about death/"burial" customs (needed for some scenes in the fic I'm planning), you have to consider that there probably wasn't a lot of land in a place like Skyrim where someone can be buried. Nords intern their dead in crypts or burn them to get around this, and I like to think Snow Elves participated in something akin to sky burials (at least sometimes). After preparation, the departed's body is left outside on a ledge, cliff, or the temple balcony to be scavenged by birds. This is seen as a metaphorical return to Aetherius, while their soul literally returns to it. They do this even in poor weather or deep winter. If it doesn’t thaw and rot/be scavenged until months later, so be it. The length it takes to rot is considered indicative of how long it takes for the spirit to let go and move on (not in a bad way though. It’s interpreted more in the way of the soul or body grieving). It's seen as if they may wish to wait until spring to finally rot if they want to experience one more warm, sunny day.

Food (I mostly wrote this in my notes in the context of the Forgotten Vale and Chantry of Auri-El, but I think it could work elsewhere as well to an extent): Plant-based food is grown in gardens in the spring and summer, and that that is able to be stored is carefully preserved through the fall and winter. Winter foods include some nuts, dried vegetables, and dried and preserved/fermented grains (like wheat, barely). These foods must be eaten slowly throughout the winter to last, and winter diets are more meat based. Summer foods include apples, cabbage/lettuce, leeks, tomatoes etc. Snowberries can be found in the wild out of season of most other fruits, and provide fruit in very early spring. Occasionally, fungus from caves is harvested, but this is seen as a delicacy (foreshadowing).

Ok, that's it for now. I gotta go to bed. Thanks for the ask!!!! :D

[brucewaynehater101]

Oops my last ask got sent in the middle of me writing it, sorry 😅😅

I was mostly done, but, I was saying:

Jason would think Tim is Bruce's favorite, and Tim would think Jason is Gotham's favorite. Both would be pretty upset about it, no one would be happy for a while.

Also, since Bruce basically agreed in the name of all bats to reside in Gotham, Bludhaven getting Nuked would be the City saying "Okay Nightwing, back to your nest". Like it's Deathstroke, yes, but under Gotham's influence.

Jason would cave instantly and explain Bruce's deal to Dick. Dick would, understandably, be massively pissed at 1) the deal being made without his consent 2) not being informed about it and being indirectly responsible for the death of a lot of people. He obviously respects the deal from then on because he loves Jason, but he always resents having his wings cut out.

Jason would also feel extremely guilty for the Bludhaven incident. Maybe he goes after Slade, maybe not, but now he has the weight of all of those deaths on his shoulder. Is his life worth theirs?

Since the deal, any of the Bats that spends too much time outside of Gotham starts to feel weakened by the pull of the City. Jason has it particularly hard, and whenever he gets too far or spends too long outside Gotham he looks progressively more corpse-like (pale skin, dead eyes, coagulated blood ...)

That's basically all I have! What are your thoughts? Especially on how would Bruce and the rest of the Bats react to it.

Hi!!! The first part of this ask is here.

Imma answer the full ask in this post, though ^^

Dick would be *wrecked* by the idea that he unintentionally caused the death of thousands (I'm not sure about how large Bludhaven's population is). Bruce and Jason would also both feel extremely guilty and upset about this as well. It's almost as if Bruce passed along his tendencies to blame himself.

I'm curious who is considered Bruce's children by Gotham. Do Barbara and Steph count? Are they limited as well?

And Dick. I hope to gods he just gets his own place in Gotham and doesn't move back into the Manor. I don't know how much Bruce and Dick's relationship could recover from this.

Yeah, this is typical Bruce behavior. However, that was Dick's city. The city Dick swore to protect. That was so many lives.

Dick may never trust Bruce ever again.

Bruce, on the other hand, is probably going to try to hunt sentient Gotham down for causing all those deaths (depending on how intentionally it was). This will cause tension with the family because: what if stopping Gotham kills Jason?

I'm curious how Bruce would judge Gotham? Gotham isn't human and doesn't have human ideals. It's a sentient eldritch being and shouldn't be held to human standards of morality. It has helped and harmed the Bats in equal measure. Does Bruce even have the right to try to punish or end it?

As far as Tim... I'm curious if he is as affected by the need to stay in Gotham. Maybe it only affects him after Bruce adopts him (and for that short period during Jack's comma where Tim was Bruce's ward). Would it thus get nullified when Tim gets emancipated (and another leading cause for him to do it)?

Also, if Tim gave back Robin, was that temporary or permanent? Did Steph take the role in the meantime? Did Tim become his own hero?

Interesting concepts all around ^^

[dr-trafalgar-law]

Law X CisFem Reader - NSFW - 18+

- Prologue -

Heavy rain thrummed against the large display window of your shop. The streets had darkened sooner making it feel later in the evening than it was. Your staff cleared out just after closing leaving you behind to work on this large order alone. You preferred it that way with special orders.

This cake wasn't special because it was a high-profile client or a family friend. It was because it was his.

A massive three-tiered chiffon cake with alternating raspberry and white chocolate fillings sat before you dirty-iced and ready for sheets of fondant to be spread over.

The groom's cake, finished that morning, already sat in the refrigerator. He hadn't ordered anything specific just simply saying, "Whatever you decide will be fine, yoi."

As sort of a joke you went the unconventional route making a small layered pineapple upside-down cake. Dabs of purple, teal and yellow Italian buttercream smeared out to look like flames with an offset spatula decorated the outside. Not your best prank against the blond but his brothers would think it's funny

You slipped into the flour dusted hoodie kept in your office and approached the thermostat, turning it down to combat the humidity seeping in from outside.

After rolling out some fondant you headed to the sheeter losing yourself in thought.

__________

The screen door bounced against the door jamb as you passed through the back entrance of the Newgate house. Ace chased Luffy through the room flailing a ruined shirt and shouting curses at the younger male. There was never a dull moment in that house.

Reaching the dining room, you finally located the blond you'd been hunting for slouched over the table, head resting in his left palm while he flipped through pages in front of him. The room felt heavy making your guts twist. He knew you were standing there but couldn't bring himself to face you.

"Babe?" You called in an unattractively weak voice.

Half-lidded sapphires swayed in your direction, a cigarette pressed between his lips looking unamused as ever. You'd been together for six years and despite his nearly void expression you could tell whatever he was reading wasn't good news.

"I got my match today, yoi." He removed the smoke to speak.

Your heart dropped.

It was foolish to think he wouldn't be matched just because he was older, glitches happened all the time.

This was a new era law of the New World Order. A few generations before you the world had come together in peace forming this new world government. For the most part life carried on as usual, until people stopped marrying leaving reproduction in a rapid decline. The NWO stepped in making arranged marriages law. You were matched with someone of 85% compatibility or higher. Weddings were to be held after a six-month grace period allowing pairs to get to know each other and adjust living arrangements.

Dating prior to being matched was frowned upon but not illegal and required by law to end the moment you received your partner's information. Most non-matched relationships didn't last as long as yours. Generally, arranged couples were excited and threw huge weddings. You had friends who waited for their matches rather than dating around.

Marco was special; he could handle your sass and loved you without condition. Who needed a match? You already loved each other.

With a shaky sigh he rose left arm outstretched to catch you. Reeling you in so he wouldn't have to watch your heart break he buried his nose in your hair for probably the last time.

"W-hen?" You sobbed, makeup staining his white t-shirt.

"We meet later today, yoi."

All contact was severed the day he met her.

For a while you just went through the motions, taking on the biggest projects alone so you could work into the night and wake after only a few hours of restless sleep to start the process over. After a few months you even began to smile again, but it was just a weak facade.

You were taking a short break in your office when your head decorator, Usopp stepped into your open doorway.

"Uh - hey F/N, your tasting appointment is here, b-but I can take care of it if you'd like."

You rose brows furrowing, "Why would yo-"

Your sentence was strangled by your jumping heart when your eyes fell over Marco standing in the entry with the woman you hoped to never see.

She was terrifyingly beautiful; half-lidded seafoam green eyes complimented her perfect complexion and full lips. Teal waves lapped at her waist, a few locks draped over her shoulders framing the two heart tattoos at the base of her throat.

Usopp's fidgeting pulled you from your spiral.

"Lovely to meet you Ms. Charlotte," you stepped forward to shake her hand pausing unsure of how to address the blond.

"Hey F/N." Marco smirked saving your stumbling brain.

"H-ey." You greeted turning back to his fiancé, "The flavors you chose are all set up in our tasting room. Usopp will show you the way and I will be right behind you."

The intimidating woman's green eyes dropped down to you briefly before she nodded and followed a frantic Usopp to the back of the shop.

"Warning would be nice." You sneered at your ex.

"This way was more fun, yoi." He glanced at you sideways digging his elbow into your side.

"Are you having a good time Mr. Newgate?"

"A little," he admitted with a shrug, "I didn't think I'd get to see you again until her mother suggested your shop, yoi."

A flustered groan pushed passed your lips as you picked up your pace.

The tasting went as well as it could with the exception of your stumbling. You hated that his future wife only saw you as a fumbling idiot.

"Thank you again Amande, we're honored to create your cakes." You shook her hand again glancing over at your ex, "Nice to see you again Marco."

The blonde nodded calmly.

"Usopp will you please see them out, I've got another appointment to set up for." The decorator nodded at your request as you nearly sprinted to the safety of your office.

As you were catching your breath at your desk there was a tap on the door.

"What." You sighed face down on your keyboard.

The door opened slowly, "That's not a nice way to greet a client, yoi."

"Shouldn't you be with the ball and chain?" you sat up.

"I'm not tied down yet," he smirked holding up one of your bags, "and Pops wanted one of your tarts."

"Well if that's all." You rose to see him out, but he stepped forward meeting you in the center of the small space.

"It isn't." He bent down pressing you against the desk.

Your breaths mixed in short anticipated pants as his nose brushed against yours sliding down to nuzzle your cheek. Strong arms slithered around your waist pulling you flush with his torso. The two of you stood there for what felt like hours breathing each other in.

"You look good, yoi." he whispered, lips resting on your earlobe.

Tears welled on the edge of your lashes as you choked out a bitter laugh, "I'm a mess."

"I miss you."

Sparks lit up your spine when he shifted, lips grazing your damp cheek. Your hands shot up, fingers gently covering those lips you craved so much. Marco looked down at you honestly surprised by your reaction.

"Don't," you sniffled, "we both know what happens if someone finds out."

He very sweetly kissed your digits and palm bringing his hands up to wipe away your tears. It hurt. It hurt that he'd had no choice but to come in with her, that there was nothing you could do, that neither of you could handle it, that after the last few months your feelings hadn't changed.

Finally, he stepped back.

"Tell the boys I miss 'em." You voiced shakily rubbing your wrists under your eyes.

"I will, yoi." he opened the door, "See you around."

___________

Now you sat alone on a rainy night layering gum paste into fifty different but similar dahlias. It was quiet save for the pounding rain and the hum of the A/C.

You shouldn't be making this stupid cake and supporting his marriage to another woman, but the Charlotte family was enormous and a big client of yours so sadly business played a small factor. The least you could do was make sure it was perfect and hope you didn't have to see either of them at delivery the next day.

After giving the white flowers a pearly finish with some luster dust you began arranging them on the cake you'd covered a few hours ago. It turned into a fight to keep your hands steady as the closer you were to finishing the more real the situation became. It didn't feel like your poor heart would ever recover. You couldn't help but wonder if Marco felt the same. Probably not. He had that gorgeous distraction. You winced at your tortuous thoughts.

The tinkle of the storefront bell caught your ear. You placed the last flower on the cake and stood.

"You usually text before..." You trailed off entering the front room to see the blonde you'd been agonizing over all evening.

"Expecting someone else, yoi?" he slurred passed the cigarette clamped in the corner of his lips.

"You can't smoke in here." You scolded moving forward.

"Isn't lit." He tossed it in a nearby bin, "You should keep that locked this late, yoi. Anyone could walk in."

"Can I help you with something?" You asked trying to sound unfazed as you stepped closer to the blond.

In two quick strides he was enveloping you, fingers running up the back of your neck and pulling you in. Bourbon and tobacco filled your senses as he devoured you in an aggressively hungry kiss. You submitted immediately clinging to his drenched plum button down.

He knew if he wasn't fast enough you'd stop him like last time and that wasn't an option.

This felt normal.

This felt right.

All these months without you were horrible. If he wasn't drunk he was chain-smoking, no vice filled the void you left. After spending the evening drinking with his brothers he'd gathered the courage to drop in. He knew you'd be here late, after all he knew what cake you were working on and it was a habit when you were stressed to take the workload on by yourself.

Tugging at the collar of your hoodie his lips trailed down your jaw and neck allowing you to gasp for air. Goosebumps erupted in his wake as you tried to gather your composure.

Was this some sort of dream? If it was you have a pretty sadistic subconscious.

His name left your lips in a sigh when he aimed for the weak spot just at the base of your throat.

"This fucking hoodie needs to go, yoi." He grumbled sliding his hands under the thick cotton fabric covering your torso.

A tiny voice in your head was shouting at you to stop but was quickly stifled when his lips gently came back over yours. Continuing to tug at the hoodie until your left arm was free, you reached up to cup his cheeks and pull away.

"Not here." You breathed nodding toward the display window.

Though it was well passed midnight you didn't want to risk being seen.

An amused laugh rumbled through the male as he turned taking your wrist and dragging you toward your office. Once inside you closed and locked the door for good measure. You hardly had time to turn away from the door before you were met with those lazy blue eyes and a sexy knowing smirk.

There was a lot he wanted to say, but now wasn't the time to speak. As you wiggled the rest of the way out of your hoodie he pushed you up against the dark wooden surface bringing his left knee up between your thighs causing warmth to bloom and spread through you. This time his name took the form of a needy whimper sending a shiver down his spine. How he'd missed your voice.

Deft fingers stripped you of your shirt allowing his sleepy gaze to drink in your curves. You fumbled with the buttons on his shirt giving up midway as the tattoo that covered the expanse of his chest came into view.

Lips still crashing together desperately another shiver wracked through the blonde as you ran your hand roughly over the front of his jeans. If you were that ready he was no longer going to hold back, quickly he stepped back to make work of your leggings while you unbuckled his belt. Once your clothes had been disposed of and his jeans hung loose on his hips he moved forward running his hands down your rear to pick you up by your thighs. Not wanting to waste another second, he adjusted you slightly before sheathing himself completely in your warmth.

You gasped gripping his shoulders as he attempted to set a steady pace, quickly finding the wall didn't allow enough leverage.

Clinging to his neck, lips brushing over his ear you spoke, "The desk babe."

Your lust filled tone made him shudder and quickly lift you away from the wall. Once the back of your thighs met the metal surface you released the blond to rake whatever you could onto the floor.

"Ah, like old times, yoi." He chuckled forcing you to lie back.

Soon soft moans and the clap of your hips meeting reverberated off of every wall. What items were left on your desk shifted with every thrust, some eventually falling to the floor.

Marco cursed between ragged breaths as his pace grew sloppy. You gnawed on your lip to hold back from shouting his name. Digits dug into your hips and ass as he bent down to lap at your throat.

Long teasing thrusts turned sharp and deep sending you into a euphoric haze. He felt your legs tighten and knew you'd reached your limit.

His lips trailed teasingly up to your ear, hot uneven breath fanning over your flushed cheek, "Just let go, yoi."

One final intense kiss was all you needed, it worked every time. He reveled in every lewd sound you made as you unraveled just for him eventually pulling him into his own orgasm.

Half-dressed you sat on the floor between Marco's legs, back pressed to his chest, head resting on his shoulder. Assessing the mess you'd made his gaze dropped to a familiar pink legal sized envelope.

He nudged it with his foot, "Who is he, yoi?"

"A doctor if you can believe it," you sighed, "we don't see each other much. I suppose that's my fault."

"Is he good to you?"

You chuckled, "He can be an asshole, but that's kind of how I like 'em."

He smirked kissing your temple, "This is it huh?"

"I guess." you frowned.

You stood and finished dressing. His arms wound around you pulling you close to savor your warmth one last time. Gently he tipped your chin and tenderly kissed your lips. There was no more urgency, no more need just a sweet finality laced with understanding. For the first time you didn't feel like crying as you watched him dip through the doorway followed by the jingle of the storefront bell.

Your phone buzzed in your hoodie pocket.

Law: Shift just ended. I'm coming by the shop with bad cafeteria food.

[intheholler]

I was born in Georgia and raised in Virginia. My grandmother on my father's side was born and raised with her 12 siblings in West Virginia by my great grandmother who was born in Tazewell, VA before moving to WV at 7 or 8 years old. She spent the rest of her life there and died there in Bluefield. Her parents were Appalachian, too, being from WV. When I was growing up my father and his mother would take me to see my great grandmother in her tiny house at the foot of a mountain and I would spend my time wandering the mountain, brushing her long beautiful hair for hours, reading her Saturday Evening Posts for the Norman Rockwell art. My grandmother would read playing cards and tea leaves and when I tried talking to her about it, she'd just laugh it off and never would indulge me. My great grandfather wasn't from Appalachia when he married my great grandmother. He was from VA but from Pitsylvania. When they moved to WV, he worked as a coal miner to support their large family. I'm saying all this because I've always felt tied to Appalachia as a result and like a part of me, if not all of me, belongs there. I was wondering what you, an honest to God born and bred Appalachian thought about it. With the history I've given you, would you say I have ties there? Or am I just another outsider in the grand scheme? (Ignore that I accidentally privately messaged you this please).

hi family, this was a beautiful and nostalgic read, first off. secondly, i of course am not the sole owner of appalachian identity, so don't put too much weight on my opinions. what matters is ultimately how you reckon with the land and how you are connected with her culture and people. i have no right nor business to decide that for you, and don't let nobody, me or otherwise, try n gatekeep you in or out of your own identity <3 all of that said! my thoughts on this are what my thoughts always tend to be: you're appalachian if you've spent meaningful, extended periods of time here and consider yourself changed by the culture and entwined with the land. ii don't mean like, a single road trip through the mtns one summer, obviously. i'm talking ties to the land, meaningful and sustained interactions with appalachian culture, junk like that. which it sounds like you have. appalachia is already in your blood by birth, and in your breath by frequent involvement in our culture as you grew.

besides, all of the states you mentioned host parts of appalachia as you know, and you spent lots of time with your family getting embedded in the culture. sounds appalachian to me <3

[ouroboros-hideout]

WIP WHENEVER

@chevvy-yates tagged me for this. Thank you a lot 💚

This will be a huge wall of text aswell, since I am not really of the „visual“ side of creating atm.

Writing // Worldbuilding

I'm still writing the next two chapters for my fanfiction, but would rather briefly introduce my other OCs here (yes, Aon isn´t the only one by now). Maybe I can create all of them ingame at some point, depending on how stupid I´ll act with modding etc. when I start. Since things can change quickly in the story while I'm writing, I wouldn't say that everything is 100% set in stone, a lot of it isn't finished yet. But it's a good base. Most of them appear in my „Like Napalm“ fic. Some of them will be in my main GARMR fic aswell. So prepare for half backed character data entries and some rambling.

Gan

Gan Tomobataar, or Iron as he is usually called, is a mysterious man. Many stories surround the Mongolian giant and it always depends on who asks him whether he affirms or denies these tales. It is therefore uncertain which of them are true or fictional and he really enjoys keeping his past in the dark. He is said to have served in an elite military unit. The metal teeth that earned him his iconic nickname are said to have been lost in numerous boxing matches as he tried to turn pro to make a better life for himself and his family, and he is allegedly a descendant of Ginghis Khan (which is probably one of his favorite rumors). One can assume that his closest confidants have more clarity, but none of them would dare say a word about it. Undeniably true is that he has two brothers, of whom he is the second-born. Together with them, he leads one of the largest nomadic clans in eastern Europe and Asia. The Tomobataar nomads are divided into three large families, each led by one of the three brothers. Iron's family stays mainly in Mongolia and Russia, but he would also travel to more distant parts of the Soviet Union for profitable contracts. He doesn't have many vices, but one of them is definitely greed.

By sheer luck, at least that's what he claimed, he picked up Aon on the street when she was trying to flee Moscow on her own. He promised to protect her from the Secret Police and other bounty hunters if she proved to be a useful member of his clan. However, his methods for testing her worth would put the young woman to the test.

Yakov

Yakov always had problems finding his place in the world. He grew up in St. Petersburg, studying or an education other than working in his father's car repair shop were never an option financially, but the young man always yearned for something greater than being stuck in the alleys and streets of his childhood. He decided to join the military when he was old enough, but was discharged immediately after basic training for insubordination and general unsuitability. What remained for him was to work in his father's garage until he died after a long illness. Yakov tried to keep the store running on his own for a while, but he found it difficult to do good business without proper management and eventually had to sell the store. This was followed by a relatively dark period. He saw himself as a failure, was unable to find a new job and drank away the money he had received for the workshop in the bars in his neighborhood. One evening, a man came into his local pub. His car had broken down outside, he wouldn't get any further that night and kept him company for a few hours. The next day, Yakov repaired his car for the man called Gan and left the town with him to live with the Tomobataar nomads.

Gregori

Gregori's mother, a singer from New York, came to the Russian capital for a gig and met a military officer there. The two got together and the result was little Greg. Shortly afterwards, however, the couple fell apart and she took her son back to America, where he spent most of his childhood and youth being raised by babysitters and nannies, while the singer preferred to spend her time on tour or in the recording studio. Gregori at least inherited much of her creativity, starting to make music himself at an early age and drawing a lot. Just what small children do when they need to keep themselves busy.

When he was 16 years old, his mother died of an overdose. As she never bothered to write down a testament or anything similar, her entire fortune goes to her greedy manager, who leaves Gregori penniless.

The boy, who has spent his whole life sheltered without much contact with the outside world, is left with nothing and doesn't know exactly what to do. So he scrapes together the last of his money and buys a ticket to Moscow, where he tries to find his father, but in vain. He quickly goes off the rails, barely speaks a word of Russian, is recruited by a gang and gets exploited. An arms deal with a group of nomads goes wrong, a shootout ensues and Gegori is the only one left of the gang because he hides instead of fighting. Yakov, who was on the other side of the deal, takes pity on him and eventually takes him to his new family where he tries to find his place within the group.

Anna

Anna grew up with the Tomobataar nomads from an early age. Her parents were killed in a botched mission when she was just four years old. Iron, who in a way blamed himself for this, took on a guardianship for her and looked after the little girl like the apple of his eye. As the years passed and Anna grew older, the relationship between her and her foster father changed. He became increasingly demanding, punished misbehavior and put the still young girl under pressure. Aon, who had already earned her place in the clan by this time, could not tolerate this behavior as she herself had grown up under similar circumstances. No one else in the clan interfered with Iron's "parenting methods", which is why she ended up doing it. Anna and Aon then became inseparable and she naturally followed her later when they left the clan along with many others.

Anatoly

Anatoly, or Tolik as Aon calls him, belongs to the Russian working class in Moscow and cannot claim to own much. As a boy, he dreamed of studying mechanical engineering in order to open his own workshop or business. A dream that his father would never have been able to afford in this life. So after school, Tolik started working at his father's scrap yard on the outskirts of Moscow, not an easy job. He regularly drives into the city to pick up old components and scrap metal from SovOil and other big corporations, where he meets Alyona one day. The two strike up a conversation, exchange banter and hit it off straight away, which over time develops into a teenage love story. Aon spends a lot of time with him at the scrapyard, where she can test and improve her skills on old machines and has a place to hide from her hated stepfather. He, in return, benefits from the knowledge she brings with her from university, and his dream of building his own big thing soon becomes her dream too. Together they consider leaving the city at some point and make plans for the future

unnamed_chromed_up_terrifying_SovOil_Secret_Police_agent

Yea well, I don't know yet how to call him. After Aon has fled Moscow, the officers of the normal police force give up the search for her, as it theoretically no longer falls within their area of responsibility. However, since Kristof claims that Aon stole the data he wanted to sell to Petrochem, SovOil is naturally very interested in finding her and the data chip. So they send a Secret Police agent after her, who, together with a small unit, tries to track her down. He actually already had a kind of "Easter Egg" appearance in my other AU. He would have been the agent sitting next to Kurt if he hadn't switched the cards on the table. Funny how differently things can go. Anyway, he doesn't really have much of a backstory other than he used to work for the KGB and is a bloodthirsty hound dog who chases Aon halfway across the country (spoiler: and finds her). If I were to compare him to another character from movies etc, he would probably have the closest vibe to Hans Landa from Inglourious Basterds. The character was very well written, even though I would probably make my namesless_pig a bit younger than him. But since he'll be pumped full of cyberware anyway, it probably doesn't matter much in the end. It's just supposed to be a fucking horrible character and Aon's nightmare.

Robert Walker

Robert is one of the key-characters in my main fanfiction. I haven't thought about him in depth yet, but the general concept is there. He's a British journalist and photographer who wanted to go high by exposing wrongdoings in society. For him, there is nothing more exciting than achieving "fame and notoriety" as a whistleblower. He's not necessarily stupid or doesn't know what he's doing, he's just unlucky. He gets into trouble with the wrong people and upsets the even worse ones, which is why he has to flee the UK and ends up in NC. There he tries to start over and stay out of trouble. However, he soon develops an "unhealthy" obsession with Kurt Hansen. He is incredibly fascinated by him and spends every free minute in Dogtown so that he can perhaps take a photo (or two, or ten) of his idol. At some point, he goes so far as to seek direct contact and wants to interview him. Kurt is flattered at first, but has little desire to reveal information about himself in some strange blog or gossip magazine. But that didn't stop Robert from continuing to stalk him and even trying to become a member of Barghest. At some point, Hansen got too pissed off and gave him the choice of leaving Dogtown or catching a bullet. Robbie chose the second option. After all, he hadn't forbid him to camp outside the gates of Dogtown, had he?

Technically I could tell something about Aon´s mom and her stepfather too, but I don´t have that much yet. So will keep em for the next WIP together with the other OCs for my main fic. There will be three more. A general, a corpo guy and the last is still up for discussion with my brain. Considering somekind of warlord or a netrunner.

Art

I tried to do something different than a full rendered piece of artwork. I am not yet confinced that I like it. I like, that it was finished really fast lmao but...I dunno.

Aon and Tolik - 2055

But happy that Aon is actually recognizable in the end. During the process she looked so much like So Mi at a point that my brain went: WHO ARE YOU GIRL. But I like the long hair. Will give it back to her in her 2078+ appearance. Not exactly like this, but longer than her normal style.

Not quite sure about Anatoly tho. I mean, he looks like this in my head, but I will reconsidere if he will get some cyberarms. He is poor like a mouse, so probably can´t afford expensive tech like this, but he feels kind of „empty“ without anything.

Congrats and huge thanks if you read this far. Brainrot stronk!

Tagging some ppl aswell. Everyone else is invited too to show off some awesome stuff ofc, no pressure as always!

@blackrevell @olath124 @cyberholic77 @cybervesna @pinkyjulien @theviridianbunny @therealnightcity @wanderingaldecaldo @miss--river @barghestapologist @kdval @streetkid-named-desire @aggravateddurian @androgymess

[isshua]

Messianic Aureation

Chapter 13: Battle with the Wind-Borne Champion of the Archon War

Summary: Cara arrives at the Thousand Winds Temple, ready to put her life on the line and steal the Anemo gnosis from Venti. The wind screams as a god's true might is displayed.

Scuttles out of my cave to throw this chapter at anyone who sees it THIS TOOK ME OVER A MONTH TO WRITE AGH I am such a perfectionist when it comes to writing and I REALLY wanted this chapter to be the best version of itself because it's the finale to the Monstadt Arc of this fic. In the end there are some parts that I feel a little iffy about but I'm happy with it overall and I hope readers will be happy with it too! Enjoy! :D

Chapter 14 is here

Up the rough road with large bushes and tall trees growing among the long grass, great stone walls and pillars rose up from a time long lost in Monstadt’s history. They were old, Cara observed as she rode past them. Vines crept over their cracked surfaces and there were many portions that were broken away. When she passed between two of them, she reached out a hand and brushed her fingers against their surface. If these stones could talk, what would they tell her about those ancient times of the Archon War?

  Everything was eerily silent as Epona and her continued. There were no animals scampering about. No squirrels, no foxes, no birds…the only sounds she could hear were the horse’s steady hooves thumping along the dirt path and her own nervous heartbeat pounding in her ears. She remembered there being a large amount of hilichurls inhabiting this area in Genshin Impact, but those too seemed to have vanished without a trace along with the wildlife.

  What worried her the most wasn’t the absence of Khaenri'ah’s lost souls, however. It was the fact that there was no wind. The leaves of the trees were dead calm; not a single one rustled even slightly. In the wilds of Monstadt, the wind was always present. It reached every corner of the nation, and held so much power you could practically feel it in your bones. Even when it was nothing more than the softest of whispering breezes, you knew the spirit of Anemo was always watching over the nation of freedom…or maybe that was just for her, due to her unique connection with the seven elements. But here, now, Cara felt like she was traveling through a windless land. The air was heavy and still, unnaturally so. It was as if Teyvat were holding its breath…or maybe, it was quietly watching her with seething hatred, judging her not worthy to feel its presence swirling around her body and soul. If the second option were true…then she wasn’t dealing with Teyvat.

  Up the crumbling steps of an ancient staircase, Epona’s hooves clopped on a portion of stone road, the sound echoing out into the area. When they ascended a second staircase, Cara saw they were near the large monument of the strange celestial arrow which pointed directly at Monstadt City. The inscription etched into its base arose in her mind: “Seeds of stories, brought by the wind and cultivated by time.” How poetic, she thought. Was that what her story was in this world? She was a traveler from another reality, thought to be the highest of all gods by some and an imposter by others, an outsider and a native at the same time. Her tale began with the wind, and time could only tell how it would end. That seemed to ultimately be up to Teyvat’s people. Or maybe she could write the conclusion to her story with her own hand.

  She could not shake the chilling feeling that the point of the massive stone arrow was no longer pointing at Monstadt, but at her.

  The road became less and less pronounced as they kept going. Soon Epona was walking over less dirt and more grass. The Thousand Winds Temple had been forgotten by many of Monstadt’s modern citizens, it seemed. No one had traveled this path in quite a while. Cara honestly couldn’t blame them. This amphitheater had been used as a gladiator arena back in the Aristocratic Period, where slaves had been forced to fight and kill each other for the amusement of cruel nobles. This whole area was probably stained with blood. It made her sigh with sympathy, then shudder with paranoia. She could not help but let her eyes wander between the trees, half expecting to see the pale phantoms of the dead silently watching her go by.

  When the ruins of the temple were only a few steps away, Cara stopped Epona and hopped off of her. The mare snorted questioningly. She held the reins and stroked her nose. “You can’t come with me there,” she whispered. “I don’t want you getting hurt. Wait at the edge of the ruins and only come back when you hear me whistle. That’ll be the signal to show everything is safe.”

  Epona’s eyes were deeply intelligent, and subconsciously, Cara knew she understood. The horse pushed her head into her hands and snorted again softly, then turned and cantered back down the way they came. Cara watched her go, her smile falling as the animal disappeared from sight. Now, she was truly alone.

  Ignoring her own screaming instincts that were telling her to go back, she forced her legs to move and take those final steps up the last flight of stairs and into the temple.

  It was huge. Larger than she anticipated and definitely bigger than how it was in the game, she had to turn around in a circle to fully perceive the absolutely massive arena she was standing in. When she looked at the weathered seats and rusting metal cage doors that closed off the temple’s lower areas, she could practically hear the cheering screams of an audience and hear the clashing swords of fighters battling for their lives. What a fascinating, yet disturbing place to be in. In the back of her mind, she wondered what might have happened if she had been here during the temple’s prime. With the power she held within her, could she have helped put an end to the tyranny of the aristocrats? Could she have saved the lives that were lost on these very grounds? If she had been sucked into the Teyvat of 1,000 years ago, would she have still been deemed as an imposter by Monstadt’s people?

  The sound of music made her whirl around. Her heart dropped when she saw Venti sitting on the base of a fallen pillar, nimble fingers plucking the strings of his lyre and creating a lovely song. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling gently.

  “1,000 years ago, the Falcon of the West was a noble lion,” he said in a storytelling voice. “With a mighty roar, she fought for the freedom of Monstadt’s oppressed and helped break the chains of tyranny that constricted this nation. After that, she gained her wings, and flew onward to godhood. Her story began here, in a place filled with heartbreak and death. It’s quite the tale, isn’t it? Don’t you think it’s a wonderful example of how humanity’s worst evils can give birth to its greatest goods?”

  Cara didn’t answer. She stayed absolutely still, watching Venti’s every move.

  The bard sighed. “Humans are incredible creatures. There are so many paths they can go down, and they can create so many things within the spans of their short lives. But because they are mortal, the gods underestimate them. They think humans are easy to manipulate and control simply because they think they’re weaker. But you want to know what I think? I think this shows just how weak the gods really are. After all, when you're obsessed with controlling the lives of humans, doesn’t that prove which is greater? If all it takes is for humans to stop believing in you for you to lose your power, just how omnipotent can you, as a god, really be?”

  He opened his eyes and finally looked at her. That smile was so deceiving. “Humans and gods alike worship the Creator. It’s practically one of the only things we all see eye-to-eye about! So how do you think we feel when someone pretends to be the Creator and tries to convince others to worship them? Do you think Teyvat is any place for a false god?”

  “Is that what you see me as?” Cara asked him. “A false god? Nothing more?”

  He giggled and ignored her question. “Did you hear my song?”

  “It would’ve been impossible for me not to.”

  “I knew that. A bard’s talent lies in his ability to capture attention! What sort of performer would I be if you hadn’t heard it?” He put his lyre away, stood up, and stretched. “Where’s the holy lyre?”

  Cara took out her backpack and pulled out the Holy Lyre der Himmel. Venti observed her with the lazy air of an uninterest. “Guess you went through all that trouble of stealing it for nothing, huh? Sorry about that. I could have let you have your great moment of ‘summoning’ me, but, well, I just didn’t feel like going through all of the theatrics of pretending such a trick actually works.” He nonchalantly shrugged.

  “Wait. It…it doesn’t?”

  He grinned cheekily. “Best not to get pivotal information from little kids from now on, okay?”

   Bastard. Cara gritted her teeth. “You’ve been watching me ever since I arrived in Teyvat, haven’t you? You’ve seen all that’s happened, from the moment I was first arrested until now. You know everything.”

  His smile widened. “Just because you can’t feel the wind blowing doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

  “I swear, if you even think about hurting my friends-”

  “Oh, relax. I’m not going to hurt anyone. Well, not anyone except for you, of course.” He chuckled at that. “You would think me so low that I would harm my own people? Shame on you, little imposter! I’m no monster!”

  “I don’t have time for this.” She raised the holy lyre over her head. “Give me your gnosis, or I’ll break the lyre. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

  Venti stared at her for a moment, then burst out into laughter. Cara did not feel the least bit enlivened as she watched him nearly topple off of the pillar. “You won’t break it!” he chortled.

  “Try me,” she countered.

  He continued to laugh. He wasn’t taking this seriously. He wasn’t taking her seriously. She wasn’t a threat to him. Knowing that made this whole situation ever the more terrifying.

  “You won’t break it,” he repeated after finally composing himself. “You care far too much to ever go through with such an action.”

  The hand holding the lyre started to shake. She squeezed its frame and raised it even higher, bracing her arm to throw it down with all of her strength. She only got so far before she stopped herself. Drawing in a breath, she tried again; her hand refused to let it go.

  Venti watched on in amusement. “See? You can’t do it. Your mind is telling you to, but your heart won’t let you go through with the deed.” His voice was sweet and light, singsongy and haunting, a siren call pulling her out to sea so she could be drowned. “You won’t break it because you love me.”

  Her eyes widened and her heart broke. She staggered a little, rocked by what he had just said.

  He laughed again, though this time, he sounded so much crueler. “Poor little imposter, she loves the bard who will bring about her end! So silly, so stupid, to think the enemy could be her friend!”

  “If you know I love you,” she said quietly, “then why don’t you recognize me? Why don’t you remember?” Of course, she already knew the answer to this. It was because of the Madness. Whatever it was doing to him prevented the memories they had made together from making it through. The adventures they had went on when she possessed either him or the avatar of the Traveler…pulling for him, ascending him, fighting domains and bosses with him on her team…any recollection of her, and thus any love for her he had, was locked deep away by the threads of the Abyss.

  His laughter died and he pursed his lips. For a moment, his devious smile softened into a troubled frown.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know why you love me. For some time, I thought it was fake. Just a big manipulation to deceive me and use me against Her Grace. But now I can feel it. Your love is real.” His smile returned. “And it’s going to be your downfall. If you can’t find it within yourself to hurt me, then you’ll be making my job a whole lot easier.”

  Through the temple, the wind began to blow. Violent gusts whipped painfully at her skin and caused her to nearly lose her balance due to how powerful they were. Around the entire temple, to her utter shock and horror, a cyclone began to form, cutting the amphitheater off from the rest of the world. Roiling, screaming, wailing, the wind grew and grew, rising up from all sides in a mighty column of teal and dark gray. Cara looked back at Venti and saw he was no longer smiling. A dark expression took over his face as his eyes and braids glowed a bright blue. His cape flapped madly behind him as he glared at her with enough hatred to make her want to cry. A shadow was cast over him-and then it was over her, and the entire temple as a whole. The tornado containing them was so strong, so fervent, all light from the sun was blotted out and it was as if they were trapped in a perceptual state of developing storms.

  “Venti, please, stop!” Cara’s cry was nearly lost in the wind. “It doesn’t have to be this way!”

  “You knew it was going to come down to this from the very start.” Venti prowled towards her predatorily. Each step he took made Cara take equal steps back. “I’ll admit, it’s been fun watching you run around like a chicken without its head. But now I think it’s time for the hunt to end, and for you to end up dead.”

  Cara looked behind her. The massive tornado encircling the temple was so violently thick, she couldn’t even see past it anymore. The howling of the wind was like the shrieking of the souls of the dead. A foreshadowing to her own possible fate. There was no way out of this. She had bitten off more than she could chew. Albedo had been wrong-she wasn’t ready to take on an Archon. She had never seen Venti display this amount of power before. Terror had her in its grip, and she soon found that she couldn’t move, her legs rooted in place as her chest tightened and panic spread its infectious tendrils throughout her body and mind.

  “Aw, what’s the matter?” Venti regarded her with a tilt of his head, large eyes filled with taunting amusement as he smiled mockingly. “Gonna cry? Is your life flashing before your eyes? Are you afraid?”

  Albedo. Kaeya. Razor and Bennett. Klee and Sucrose. Noelle. Fischl and Oz. Diona. Nick and Casey. Her family. Her own world. Their faces flashed through her mind and fizzled away when she desperately tried to reach out and grab them. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  She was not immortal. She was not the original Caratrice. She was not a god of limitless power who could take on an Archon and win.

  But she was going to have to try to be. Because there was no turning back.

  “Little imposter.” Venti’s voice boomed, loud, threatening. When she looked into his eyes, she saw flashes of dead gods with giant arrows sticking out of their mangled bodies. Battlefields doused in the blood of the Archon War’s losers while the champion hovered above them all, white wings so large they could overtake the entire sky, eyes blazing, wind rising, a primal force of total destruction. Barbatos.

  People back in her world always doubted Venti’s true potential.

  If only they could see the glimpses of the past she was perceiving right now.

  “Little imposter,” Venti rumbled. “I’ll ask again. Are you afraid?”

  “Venti,” she responded. Shakily, begging. “Please don’t make me do this.”

  He didn’t reply, only smiled. The Elegy for the End materialized in his hands. String pulled taut, bow nocked and ready. A pause wedged itself between them.

  She breathed in, and out.

   You love me. You care too much.

  “Forgive me,” she whispered to the Venti she knew was buried somewhere deep inside of the god standing against her. She took off her mask and slipped it carefully into her backpack, along with the Holy Lyre der Himmel.

  She gently pulled away the bandages covering the right side of her face. When they were all gone, she blinked her injured eye open. She could see out of it perfectly; it was fully healed, or at least healed enough for her to see now. For this battle, she was going to need her full vision.

  Venti laughed. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  She pulled out her sword and charged.

  With lightning-quick reflexes, Venti raised his bow and released a flurry of arrows. Cara saw them coming and ducked, dropping to the ground and letting them sail over her before she was on her feet again and running. Venti’s hands moved with inhuman speed, conjuring one arrow after another. Cara dodged to the left when one came dangerously close to piercing her right arm, but unintentionally allowed another arrow to graze the skin of her cheek. A tiny streak of gold followed the arrow’s wake. She winced, but ignored the pain.

  “One score for me!” Venti cheered. “Let’s see how many more scars I can give you!”

  Cara raised her arm and without her even having to think about it, a golden shield was summoned from beneath her skin. Anemo-infused arrows bounced harmlessly against it as she ran forward. Venti laughed. “Oh, so you think your shield will be enough to stop me? Think again, little imposter! Remember that I’m the god of the wind!” He lifted his hand and made a swiping motion, and a gigantic gust of wind hit her and sent her careening backwards, leaving her right back where she started. Cara gasped as the air was knocked out of her. She barely had enough time to recollect herself and hold her shield in front of her so a fresh wave of arrows wouldn’t pierce her from every direction.

  She had to get to cover. There was no way she was going to make any sort of progress if she kept trying to simply run towards him. If she did, he would just continue to blow her away. He wanted to keep her back; on top of being mostly a ranged fighter, it was also integral for him to be as far away from her as possible so she couldn’t get the chance to fight back. Her skills lied within close combat, as did an opportunity to take his gnosis. If she was going to survive this battle, she was going to have to trick him into lowering his guard.

  She pushed herself up and ran behind a fallen column, blocking arrows with her shield as she did so. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her back pressed against the rough stone as she listened to the howl of the wind and Venti’s maniacal laughter. “So you're choosing to hide?” he called out. “How cute! You think that’ll be enough to protect you? I can make this stone crumble into dust!” A blast of Anemo slammed into the column, rocking it violently. Cara lurched forward with a slight gasp. Little cracks splintered across its surface. A few more of those wind attacks, and it was going to completely fall apart.

  “Come out, come out!” Venti sang. Another blast of wind. “We’re not done playing yet!” And then another. “You know this fight can’t last forever! If I don’t kill you directly, then the tornado around us will! Aren’t you feeling a little lightheaded? Finding it hard to breathe, perhaps?”

   Oh god, he’s right. Cara clutched her chest. Being inside a tornado meant lower oxygen levels. She could feel it getting more and more difficult to take in a full gulp of air with each passing moment. How much longer before she passed out? If she did, she would be completely vulnerable, and then Venti would have the chance to…to…

   Stop thinking like this! She lightly hit the heel of her palm against her head. This is what he wants. He wants you to panic so you’ll act without thinking. You're giving him the advantage! She had to think this through, quickly and thoroughly. Her time was running out. All of the odds were against her, so if she wanted to change that, she was going to have to do something soon.

  “Aw, don’t be so worried!” Venti giggled. “I’ll make sure you don’t die immediately! Where’s the fun in that? I want to play around with you some more. Now, come out!” A final wind blast broke the column, sending bits of stone flying everywhere as he split it cleanly down the middle. The moment he did this, Cara took off running, sprinting parallel to where he was standing, staying close to the tornado wall. There was another fallen column nearby. She hid right behind it, waiting for him to react.

  Just as she anticipated, he released another wind slice. She ran forward just as it hit and destroyed the column. Another pillar sat in front of her, this one a little bit closer to Venti than the other had been. She hid behind it, waiting. Surely enough, another wind blast came, slicing the stone apart. With each pillar Venti destroyed, she inched closer, closer, gaining ground and using the columns as a distraction. It was obvious the bard was getting frustrated, because he was no longer laughing gleefully and was now frowning, displeased. “Will…you…stop… hiding?” he yelled, releasing yet another Anemo attack. This time, it hit a pillar that was still standing straight. It shuddered and slowly toppled forward, right for the column he was standing on. Venti swiftly dodged, easily flitting to the side and avoiding being crushed as swiftly as a bird flies through the air. This was what she wanted.

  She pushed forward and ran with all of her might, reaching out with the intention to tackle. She saw him turn towards her slightly, eyes widened in disbelief to see her so close.

  And then he smiled. And he was gone.

  It was like she was suddenly moving in slow motion. With no way to stop him, she watched him sidestep her, raise his hand, and conjure up a whirling ball of Anemo. With a crack ringing through the air, he hit her with the elemental ball and sent her propelling forward. She crashed into the pillar he had been standing on only moments before and slumped to the ground, her ears ringing as she felt nothing but pain.

  He was laughing again. “Oh, that was hilarious! You really thought you could outpace the god of the wind? Did you do any sort of research before you accepted this battle?”

  An arrow replaced the Elegy for the End in his right hand, and he sped forward with incredible speed. Cara raised the Prototype Rancour just in time. The Anemo-strengthened arrow clashed against it.

  “It’s a shame I have to kill you,” Venti sighed, feigning regret. “You're fun to play around with. You were being oh-so predictable, and then you sprung a trick like that upon me! And here I was thinking this was going to be boring!” He smiled menacingly. “You better keep impressing me, little imposter. You don’t want me to get bored too soon!” Too fast for her to react, he jabbed the arrow into her leg, right below her knee. She screamed out in agony and swung her sword wildly at him, but he jumped back and fluttered off with high laughter carrying over the cyclone’s raging winds.

  It was getting more and more difficult to breathe. Each inhale was desperate and shaky. On the precipice of her mind, she felt fuzzy numbness, the promise of unconsciousness growing closer. Gritting her teeth and letting out a strangled cry, she yanked the arrow out of her leg and threw it away. Golden ichor poured from the wound.

  “You better do something fast or I’m going to kiiiill yooou!” Venti sang. He started shooting arrows at her again. Ignoring the pain in her leg, Cara forced herself to run, this time going directly for him. Her time was limited. She had to end this now.

  This battle was unlike any fight she had ever been in before. Diluc, Jean, Rosaria, and the rest of the hunters had fought with the intention of getting up close and personal. Even Albedo, who had obviously been holding much of his true strength back during their practice fights, had done much of the same. She was used to facing opponents with swords. Venti’s attack style left her feeling clumsily unfit for any kind of fight. He released arrows so quickly, barely giving her time to knock them away with her sword. When she did get close to him, he would always unleash an Anemo attack to knock her away. It was difficult, frustrating, and anxiety-inducing. At any moment she could run out of oxygen, and then she’d be finished. This dance between her and him had to be over if she wanted to survive.

  “Your shield hasn’t appeared since we first began,” Venti idly chattered away. “Are you having a bit of trouble controlling those powers of yours? I see the way they react to your emotions. You were so determined before, and now you look like you're really down in the dumps. Are you starting to lose hope, perhaps? You have to have realized by now that there’s no way you can win this. A sword can do very little against a bow…c’mon, why don’t you just give up? There’s no shame in it, y’know. I promise I’ll give you a quick, painless death if you do.”

  Her frustration was rising. She did not reply.

  Venti released another arrow. “Or you can keep trying. I don’t mind it, really! More fun for me!”

  She was getting nowhere. This battle was entirely in his favor. Cara’s veins lit up gold as she roared and charged him. All of her exhaustion, caution, and fear was thrown to the wind, and she lifted her sword and swung it at him with the intention of knocking away his bow. Venti looked quite startled to see her gain so much ground. The Elegy for the End was recalled, and he crossed his arms in front of him while his braids and eyes began to glow. A sigil of the Anemo Archon appeared below him. An updraft of wind helped him float into the air.

  Cara let her sword dissolve away. She reached up and grabbed Venti’s ankle, then yanked him down with all of her strength. The bard was slammed into the ground, hard. She held him down and raised her fist, not even noticing how her entire hand was completely gold. All she could feel was anger, all she could sense within herself was desperation. She was done playing by his rules. Now, it was her turn to attack.

  Venti’s eyes widened. “Wait-!” he started to say, but his voice cut off into a strangled noise when she wrapped her hand around his neck. Cara’s blood was pumping. Her heart was pounding. Now is your chance, she thought she could hear her own voice whisper into her ear. Defeat him. Show him what you are capable of. This Archon is nothing compared to your power. You are above him. Take his gnosis. Win!

   She was about to. She really was. With her left hand still holding him down by his throat, she pressed her right hand against his chest, feeling his own heart beating frantically, and then along with it, an unnatural warmth. The area right above his heart began to glow.

  And then her eyes strayed to his. She saw the fear within him. She saw the pain. She blinked.

   Wait.

  I’m…I’m hurting him.

  Venti was indeed gasping in pain. As her hand sunk into the cavity of his heart and her fingers closed around the shape of his gnosis, she noticed him let out a cry. Her will faltered, and her face fell. The hand around his neck lightened. I’m hurting him. I’m hurting him. I don’t want to hurt him. I love him. I don’t want to cause him pain.

  Her own voice inside her head howled at her to continue. Her life depended on this! He wouldn’t be in pain forever! He was trying to kill her! She had to go through with this or she was going to die!

  But it was too late. Cara hesitated. That single fleeting moment was all the time Venti needed to release a powerful burst of Anemo that emanated from his entire body and send her careening back in a shockwave of wind. The gnosis was lost from her grasp. She crashed into the ground and rolled on to her side, her own breath lost within her.

  All of her anger and frustration with Venti vanished in her pain. She coughed and slowly pushed herself to her feet, clutching her side as she wheezed. Everything hurt. The leg wound Venti gave her had already healed, but now it was beginning to ache again. The light in her blood slowly ebbed away. Once again, her power was lost to her.

  The tornado’s intensity was elevated. Cara’s hair whipped around as she was battered by its winds. Bits of the Thousand Winds Temple were being cracked off and sucked into the cyclone. She heard a growl; she saw Venti slowly rise to his feet, wobbling a little as he panted. His hand was over his heart. He looked at her with hooded eyes, furious, terrifying.

  “You…just made…a very, very big mistake,” he said.

  And then a gust of wind carried him into the air. She watched, in fascinated horror, as white feathers began to sprout from his arms, out of his legs, and then his face and even his hair. The wind ripped them off and caused them to swirl around him until he was completely obscured by a whirling cocoon of feathers.

  Two gigantic white wings broke through and spread to an impressive length. The feathers were swept away with each beat. And out of them emerged a god shining with the essence of Anemo. He hovered in the air, as radiant as an angel. He was so absolutely beautiful, it physically hurt to look at him.

  When the god spoke, immense pressure slammed into her and made her nearly sink to her knees. The aura this being possessed was so incredibly raw and powerful, it made her mind go blank and her body go absolutely haywire. All she could hear was the roar of the wind. She felt like she was being pierced by a million arrows, her flesh being torn, her consciousness being ripped to shreds. She was going insane. Just being in his presence was driving her mad.

  “Imposter,” he announced, and his voice was amplified by the scream of the tornado, so that it sounded like it was coming from every direction and bombarding her. “Say my name. Say it, so that you may remember the Archon who damned your soul to the Abyss for sullying the name of Her Grace, the Almother.”

  Cara had no choice but to comply. The wind gripped her and forced the name to march out of her mouth. “Barbatos,” she breathed.

  The god smiled. “Good. Now die.”

  The Elegy for the End materialized, but this time, an absolutely massive arrow made out of pure Anemo energy was formed and released from it. Cara snapped out of whatever stupor Barbartos’ presence had inflicted on her and threw herself out of the way when the arrow slammed down into the ground and shattered the Thousand Winds Temple’s floor. More followed. She was running for her life as she dodged the elemental arrows with heads big enough to take off her entire arm if contact was made.

  “I told you what Her Grace wanted me to do to you,” Barbatos snarled from above. “And now I’m going to go through with it. Playtime is over. I’ve had my fun with you. Now I want you out of my sight.” He flapped his wings and lunged for her, swooping over the amphitheater like a bird of prey. Cara yelped and dodged. Where Barbatos flew, a trail of destruction followed in his wake. Whatever he swooped over was decimated by Anemo energy. If she hadn’t gotten out of the way in time, she would have ended up like that too.

   I can’t fight this, she realized. Not when he’s in this state. Venti she could just barely handle. But Barbatos? In no way was she equipped to beat him in battle. His power of flight gave him the ultimate advantage, and she could not reach him if he was constantly in the air. How was she going to do this?

   Use your power, the voice inside her head whispered. Take his wind and make it your own. Force him to remember you.

  Barbatos rose high into the air and held out his hand. A wind spear formed, and he hurled it at her with incredible speed and strength. Her first instinct was to run…but then something told her to do otherwise. She raised her hand and watched her palm light up gold. The spear shuddered and slowed. It started to glow gold, and then it exploded. Barbatos was hit by the force and fell back with a shriek.

  She stood there in utter disbelief. What…what had she just done?

  “Seizing control of my Anemo won’t do you any good!” Barbatos yelled at her. The Archon formed more wind spears, throwing one after another at her. Some of them she deflected with her sword. Others she used her own power to throw against him, the golden light blasting him in the face and causing him to screech in pain like a wounded eagle. It made her heart ache to hurt him like this, but she couldn’t hold back due to her feelings and empathy. She needed that gnosis. Whatever it took, she was going to get it.

  “Barbatos!” she yelled at him. “This fight is meaningless!” She dodged a giant wind arrow. “I’m not your enemy! Please, listen to me!”

  He didn’t answer. He dived to attack her again, and she had to run to avoid the destructive Anemo whirling behind him. She kept pleading to him. “I don’t know you as the god of the wind or Lord Barbatos! I know you as Venti! You're funny, you’re kind, and you are not meant to be a puppet of the Madness! You are greater than anything the Abyss can throw at you!”

  The tornado roared. Cara’s knees grew weak as she looked into the face of the god hovering before her. “You need to recognize me!” She dodged the wind strikes by a hair’s length as she ran. “I’m your warrior!” She leapt over a fallen pillar and blocked a series of wind spears. “Don’t you remember? We’ve been through so much together! We’re friends!”

  Barbatos screamed in frustration and sent forth a giant Anemo-infused arrow. It came zooming towards her, but she reacted in time and shot out her hand. Golden light shattered through her skin, and the arrow stuttered to a halt, its tip inches away from impaling her. She grimaced under the weight of the wind bearing down upon her; the will of the Anemo Archon was trying to crush her to bits. “Venti!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “You need to remember who I am!”

  Her power overtook the arrow and possessed it. Cara filled it with all of her feelings and memories, of the joy she felt when she had first gotten him during one of his banners, of the journeys they had been on together, of the events, the festivals, the songs and the love she felt for him deep within her heart. Come back to me. Listen to me. We know each other. Let me set you free. The arrow, having a new target, circled and barreled right back for Barbatos. The Archon faltered, his face falling into an expression of confused shock. He didn’t have enough time to move out of the way.

  The arrow, golden, pierced his heart. Where a wound should have formed, there was light. Barbatos’ eyes widened, and a gasp was flung from his lips. The red was chased out of his irises and was replaced with the healing elixir of aureation. He looked at Cara.

  “Windblume?” he murmured, as soft as a whispering breeze.

  And then his wings gave out and the god of the wind crumpled, his entire body going limp while he fell through the sky like an injured bird or a dying dragon. Barbatos crashed into the ruins of the Thousand Winds Temple with a rumbling boom. Dust and bits of stone sprayed everywhere. Some of the few remaining standing pillars finally fell, adding to the cacophony of noise.

  “Venti!” Cara cried. She ran to where he fell, fear and worry spurring on her actions.

  Within a crater of rubble the form of the defeated god laid, his wings curled around him as if they were attempting to shield him from the outside world. She dared not get too close, aware of just how powerful this form of his was. One wack from his wing, and she would be killed immediately. But was he alive? Was he okay? She couldn’t tell if he was breathing. What if she killed him?

  “Venti.” Her voice was desperate. She felt like she was about to burst into tears. “Venti, please, get up. Please!”

  The god did not move. Cara covered her mouth in horror and stumbled back. She dropped her sword and squeezed her eyes shut. I killed him. I killed him. Oh dear god, he’s dead. This can’t be happening. I’m a monster. I’m-

  A low groan made her eyes fly open. She watched, frozen in place, as Barbatos slowly dragged himself out of the hole. When he stood, he towered over her, much taller than he was in his mortal form. His wings flared as he struggled to keep his balance, giving him an even more intimidating appearance. However, the reality was anything but. Barbatos looked exhausted, his head bent as he wobbled. Cara held her breath, afraid to say anything. The relief she felt at seeing him alive fought bitterly with her fear of him. She wanted oh-so badly to run up to him and give him the biggest hug, but she was too afraid he would try to attack her if she did so. So she stayed put and waited.

  Barbatos looked at her. His eyes were filmed over with tears. And then he fell to his knees.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Cara didn’t say a word.

  Tears streamed down Venti’s cheeks as he sobbed out the same watery words over and over again. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” His wings shuddered and fell to his sides, snowy feathers stained gray from dust and dirt. He descended into a blubbering mess, completely breaking down. Any menace, any fury, any hatred for her vanished in the wind.

  Cara, feeling the full effects of the injuries she had procured during their fight, now that her adrenaline was wearing away, drew in a deep, deep breath. She limped over to Venti and knelt down in front of him. He stared at her with an expression of pure regret and heartbreak, green eyes wide and guilty, little whimpers leaving his mouth as he continued to cry. He spoke no longer; he seemed to be awaiting a reaction from her, most likely a negative one.

  Cara didn’t say anything. She leaned forward and gathered him into a tight hug.

  He stiffened in shock for only a moment before he melted into the embrace and hugged her back, his soft sobs elevating to muffled wails when he buried his face into her shoulder. Warmth encompassed her when his wings wrapped around her, holding her close, soft feathers brushing against her cheeks and back. Cara squeezed him gently.

  “It’s okay,” she murmured to him. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not,” Venti hiccuped. “It’s not okay at all. I-I hurt you. I hunted you. I hated you. I wanted to kill you. I-I didn’t even realize…how could I have not realized? How couldn’t I have known? The Madness…the false Creator…oh, gods, you can’t forgive me. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

  Cara rubbed his back soothingly. “Do you remember me?”

  “I remember everything,” he replied. “My god, my warrior, my windblume, my muse. You came to me in the form of another all of those ages ago and I’ve been yours ever since. I’ve worshiped you for millennia, since before I was even an Archon. Your Grace…you’ve freed me from the corruption.”

  Cara’s cheeks blushed a slight red. She smiled a little and chuckled. “Just Cara is fine. No need to call me Your Grace. Though, even if I tell you that, I’m guessing you're just going to keep saying it regardless of what I tell you to call me.”

  “Cara.” Venti sighed, and a gentle wind blew. The cyclone was slowly dissolving away, and above them, the sun peeked through the clouds and cast its warmth upon them. “I like that name. I’ve never been a god that’s particularly fond of formal titles.”

  Cara chuckled again. There’s the Venti I know.

  “I’m sorry.” Venti sniffled. “I’m sorry. I-I’ve committed horrible acts against you. All of Monstadt has. We-we were cruel. Heartless. The Madness has fogged our minds for so long…”

  Cara gave him one last gentle squeeze before she pulled away. He unfurled his wings and stood up with her. His hand went to interlock with hers, and she accepted. “How long has this been going on?” she asked him.

  With his other hand, Venti wiped his tears away. “Years. The Creator-well, I guess I should say the false Creator now-descended to Teyvat…20 years ago? 50? I-I can’t remember. The exact number is foggy…I distinctly recall her arriving long before you chose me to be a Vessel. But when it happened, all of Teyvat rejoiced…except Teyvat itself. The wind hates the false Creator. It despises her. I should have taken it as a sign back then, I should have realized there was something wrong.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “But by then, I guess it was already too late.”

  “How does the Madness spread?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember when I was infected. I didn’t even know I was infected until you freed me. All I know is that it filled me with a deep anger, a hatred so red it tasted like blood on my tongue. It was a hatred for anyone who might speak or act against the false Creator.”

  Cara sighed. None of these answers helped solve the mystery of the Madness. “It’s so strange…all of Monstadt seems to be infected by it, even non-Vision-holders. And for the people that aren’t infected by it, their fear of the false Creator and her capabilities keeps them in line…just what sort of entity is this true imposter?”

  Venti was silent for a moment as he thought. Then he gasped and flapped his wings excitedly. “I think I’ve got it! The false Creator doesn’t just infect the Madness willy nilly! She targets specific people! National leaders like Jean, ruthless fighters like Diluc, Archons like me! The more positions of power she can indirectly control through the Madness-infected Vessels, the stronger she is!”

  “Holy shit Venti, you're right.” Now that she thought about it, such an idea certainly made a lot of sense. “But then why isn’t Kaeya infected? He’s the Cavalry captain, I’d consider that a position of power. Bennett and Razor know the land really well and would work as excellent trackers…why aren’t they infected, too?”

  “Probably because they’re three of the new Nine Choirs,” Venti answered matter-of-factly.

  Cara stared at him.

  “I’m sorry, what?” she said.

  “The Nine Choirs? You mean you haven’t heard of them? They were nine Vision-holders who were chosen to become Caratrice’s envoys and ascend to godhood. Each of them had a specific ideal they represented so that they could help protect Teyvat from Armageddon’s corruption. When Caratrice died, there was really no need for them, so they disappeared, and were eventually replaced with Celestia and the Seven. But now that you’ve returned, and there’s an obvious crisis happening in Teyvat right now, the Nine Choirs are needed again! Kaeya, Bennett, Razor…you’ve chosen them to ascend to godhood.”

  Another bout of silence from Cara. She felt slightly dizzy as she was fed this information. “H-Huh?”

  Venti looked at her with newfound concern. “Are you alright? Are you going to faint? Please, hold onto me, I won’t let you fall. I know this is, ah, quite a lot to take in after surviving a battle with an Archon.” He chuckled nervously.

  “D-Do Kaeya, Bennett, and Razor know about this?” she asked him.

  Venti scrunched his nose and hummed while he thought. “Mmm, I don’t think so. If they’ve ascended to godhood already, trust me, you’d know. A lot of…physical changes would happen. But don’t worry, it’ll happen soon enough! One of them will ascend eventually, and then the rest will follow! You just need to keep an eye out for the lucky Vessel who will be the first.”

  “I want you to be one of the new Nine,” Cara said without thinking. She blurted out the words with no hesitation. ��I want you to come with us. Please. Don’t stay here. Now that you're free, the false Creator will know, and she’ll come for you. I can protect you if you're with me. Venti, please, come with us.”

  Venti’s mouth dropped. “You…want me to be one of the new Nine? After everything that just happened…after the things I’ve done to you…you’d choose me for such a high honor? Aren’t…aren’t you afraid of me? Don’t you hate me?”

  “Venti. Look at me.” She held his face in her hands. “I could never, ever hate you. I don’t hold any of this against you. You aren’t the person who has to be punished for this. I forgive you for what you’ve done. I forgive Monstadt, and everyone in it who hunted me. I couldn’t get myself to hate any of you even if I tried.”

  Tears started to well up in Venti’s eyes again. “You…you're so kind. So very, very kind. To forgive a sinner like me to the point where you even want me to stand by your side as one of your apostles…you truly are the Creator.” He hugged her again, his forehead resting against hers. “I love you.”

  Cara’s bottom lip quivered. Tears of her own slid off of her chin. “I love you too. I love you so very much, Venti.”

  Venti’s sigh was soft. Reserved. Final. “…But I can’t come with you.”

  She felt her heart sink. He seemed to sense it, because a soft noise that sounded oddly like the coo of a dove rumbled in his throat, and he held her with his wings. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I want nothing more than to accept your offer. But…I’m an Archon. And if I accept a seat with the Nine, I lose my position with the Seven. Then Monstadt will be without a god, and the false Creator will know I’ve been freed. She’ll go after the people in the city… everyone, not just the infected Vision-holders. Monstadt will be reduced to a pile of rubble. I-I can’t let that happen. I just can’t.”

  Thinking of Monstadt being completely destroyed made Cara feel sick. She quickly agreed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring such an idea on you. I should have thought of the consequences-”

  “Don’t apologize,” he quickly reassured. “You have nothing to apologize for. As the Creator, you are allowed to invite anyone you deem as favorable to accept a seat in the Nine. If Monstadt weren’t in the circumstances of today, I would accept. I really, really would. But I can’t. I have to remain here to keep Monstadt safe. Please understand.”

  “I do. I do understand. You don’t have to worry.” Cara gave him a tearful smile. “This is why you're one of my favorites.”

  Venti squeaked and fluttered back. “I-I’m one of your favorites?”

  “What, is that so hard to believe?” Cara laughed when she saw his flustered reaction.

  “K-Kinda!” Venti replied, his hands flying to his face to hide the deep blush settling over his cheeks.

  She laughed again. “See? This is why you're one of my favorites. I don’t think I could get any of the other Archons to react this way.” She sighed and let her shoulders slump a little. “Speaking of the other Archons…”

  “You're heading to Liyue next.” Venti’s wings sagged sadly.

  She nodded. “Mhm.”

  “Going there…it won’t be easy for you. Liyue is the nation of contracts, the nation of law. Their god…is extremely faithful to the Creator. I guess that means he’s technically extremely faithful to you, but being the blundering buffoon he is, he was probably infected with the Madness long before I was, so…you can fill in the blanks from there. Your Grace…Cara…Liyue will be even more dangerous for you than Monstadt. There are beings there that don’t exist here, and if they see you, they will stop at nothing to kill you. Which is why…I’m going to give you this.”

  He held out his hand and closed his fist. From between his fingers filtered a bright light. Cara had to squint a little when she watched in wonder as he opened his palm and up floated the Anemo gnosis. It hovered in the air, Anemo energy floating around it as it shined.

  “Go on,” Venti softly encouraged. “Take it.”

  She reached out a trembling hand, not knowing what to expect. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the gnosis’ surface, and a short tingle shot through her hand. When nothing happened, she grasped it, cradling it in her palms like it was the most delicate thing in the world. The gnosis floated just a little bit above the surface of her hands. Both her and Venti stared down at it.

  “Huh.” Venti sounded disappointed. “I was sure something a little more dramatic might happen.”

  She opened her mouth, intending to say “Well, what am I supposed to do with it now?” when all of a sudden, the gnosis began to hum, and a blinding light exploded from it and overtook her entire vision.

  She felt her body lift off of the ground-how, she didn’t know, but it was definitely happening-and her back tipped until she was belly-up, facing what she assumed was the sky. She couldn’t see anything except pure teal-green light, and she couldn’t hear anything except for the humming of the gnosis. It was vaguely familiar to when she had traveled through the teleport waypoint subspace. However, unlike that time, she was not in any pain. She did not feel panicked. Instead, she felt oddly at peace, like this was meant to happen. The light soothed her, and the humming implored her to relax. Her eyes fluttered shut.

  Her arms moved on their own accord. They positioned over her chest, and she felt her heart jump. The gnosis, still in her hands, pulsed in tandem with the beating of her heart. She felt its base settle on her chest. An intense warmth seeped into her, winding through her body. Wind began to pick up all around her, swirling around her arms, her legs, and traveling all the way directly into her heart and soul. She accepted the power without even having to think about it. The wind was in her. It knew her.

  The light dimmed, and Cara gently floated down to the ground.

  “Cara? Your Grace?” Venti’s voice spoke frantically above her. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

  Her eyes opened and she breathed in and out deeply as she stared up at his familiar face. She sat up, searching for the gnosis, only to realize that it had disappeared.

  “The gnosis,” she said. “Where is it?”

  “Didn’t you feel it?” Venti answered. He pointed at her chest. “It’s right in there.”

  She looked down and saw nothing but her own body. But then the wind blew, and she was startled when she heard its voice. It was not Venti. It was not a physical, corporal voice she could hear, but rather something she could sense. It was all around her, flowing with the breeze, because it was the breeze itself.

  “The gnosis is part of you now,” Venti said. “It no longer has a physical form. You’ve gained control over Anemo. Nothing can hold you back from using it as I can.”

  As he said this, a small Anemo symbol pulsed directly over her heart once before disappearing. She was silent, comprehending everything that had just happened.

  “Are you alright?” Venti asked.

  She nodded, then shook her head, and then nodded again. How was she supposed to respond? “I…I really have Anemo powers now?”

  “Yup!” Venti puffed out his chest, obviously prideful. “The wind is at your service, Your Grace! How do you feel? You want to test your new abilities out?”

  Cara held out her hand. “What do I do? Do I just-"

  Anemo energy started to swirl between her fingertips. She shrieked when she felt the rush of the wind and snatched her hand back, shaking it a little. Venti let out a little shout of glee. “It works!”

  “Oh my god.” She started to laugh. “Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, I have Anemo powers! Holy shit!”

  Venti looked absolutely overjoyed with her reaction. “So, I’m guessing you're excited?”

  “Excited? Excited? This is more than just excitement! This is absolutely incredible!” She held out her hand again. Dutifully, the wind bent to her will, little swirls of Anemo weaving between her fingers. It looked distinctly like the tail of a dragon with a large tuft of fur on the end. She watched it with wonder and delight, her heart racing. She felt airy and light, floating on cloud nine, absolutely floored that this was happening right now.

  “I’m glad you're happy about it!” Venti’s laughter tapered off when he seemed to realize something. His expression fell into a look of sorrow. “I wish I could teach you how to truly control it. There’s so much I want to show you. There’s so much the two of us could do…but you can’t stay here.”

  Cara’s hand dropped. The dragon’s tail dissipated, its furry end waving forlornly to her before disappearing.

  “You have what you came here for,” Venti continued. “Now that you’ve restored a fraction of your power, the false Creator will sense it. The Anemo gnosis has been lost to her. When she finds out-and she will-the first person she’ll question will be me. You need to go. If you stay in Monstadt, she’ll find you.”

  Even though she knew it was a lost cause, she begged him again. “Venti, please, come with us.”

  “You know it’s impossible.”

  “I know. I know it is. But I want to try. I can’t leave you here to face her. She’ll know you’ve been freed from her control. She’ll try to infect you again.”

  Venti sighed softly. “I know. I want it to happen.”

  She blanched, horrified. “What?”

  “The false Creator will be too focused on me to worry about you while you flee Monstadt. By the time she’s done with me, you’ll be long gone. She doesn’t have control over the wind anymore. Once you're in Liyue, she won’t be able to track you as easily as she was able to before.”

  “Venti, I’m not going to let you sacrifice yourself for me-“

  “I’m not sacrificing myself.” Venti clutched her hands in his and pulled them to his chest. “I’m not, because I know you’ll come back for me. I know you’ll come back for all of us. You’ll destroy the Madness. This isn’t permanent. You and the Nine Choirs will save us all.”

  “How do you know?” Cara asked with a hint of desperation. “How can you be so sure? I’m not like you. I don’t have the experience of an original Archon. I’m not the god you think I am.”

  “No, you aren’t. You're someone entirely new. And that’s why I have so much faith in you. Because I’ve heard your voice, and I’ve felt your presence, and despite everything, no matter how many times we beat you and battered you down, you still got back up and fought again. You don’t fight to sacrifice. You fight to save. Trust me, there’s a huge difference.” He cupped her cheek, the cheek with her eye scar, and let his thumb trail against it, wiping away her rapidly forming tears. “You know, it’s strange to hold you like this. For so long, I’ve only ever known you as the god beyond the sky.”

  Cara couldn’t help it. She laughed softly and leaned into his touch, sniffling. “Do you not like what you see?”

  “I do. Because it’s still you. You're still Her Grace. You're still Cara.” He helped her up to her feet, supporting her while she trembled slightly and cried. “Go. Find Kaeya, Bennett, and Razor. The wind will guide you. Pass through the Stone Gate into Liyue. I’ll use my power to ensure you leave Monstadt safely. But after that, I won’t be able to do anything else.”

  He was crying. Tears dripped down his freckled cheeks. A god weeping for the departure of his creator. She was moved by the sight and pulled him in for one final hug. “I love you, Venti.”

  “I love you too.” He hugged her back. “Before you leave, I have something I want to give you. I see Albedo left you with a little keepsake to remember him by.” His wingtips tapped her Solar Isotoma keychain, making its light pulse.

  Cara’s cheeks burned red, and she quickly stepped away. “W-Wait, it’s not what you think-“

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mean it like that. I only want to remind you that he’s not the only one who can give you heartfelt presents. Behold, a gift from the wind itself!”

  He raised his arms and spread his wings. Wind gathered around him, and forming directly out of the Anemo energy he was calling forth, a beautiful wind glider materialized in front of her. Bright blue feathers knitted themselves to a bronze frame, creating a glider that fluttered with the wine’s breeze and gave her a distinct sense of freedom when she looked at it. She held out her hands, and the glider settled over them, surprisingly light and easy to carry.

  “Tada!” Venti declared. “Your very own wind glider! You don’t seem to have one, and it’ll be a long time before you regain your own wings, so I thought, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I gave you a temporary pair?” It’s not true flight you’ll be doing with these, but they’re the next best thing!”

  Cara ran her hand over the soft feathers. She was in awe of the craftsmanship and how something so intricately beautiful could be produced from nothing more than the wind.

  “Do you like it?” Venti asked, a little shyly.

  She beamed at him. “Venti, I love it. Thank you so much!” The glider dissolved into little bits of light that traveled to her back and disappeared directly over her shoulder blades.

  He looked delighted. “I’m so glad! If you ever need to use it, rest assured that the wind will be there to catch you. I may not be able to truly protect you outside of Monstadt, but Teyvat can, and it will.” He was saddened again, and sighed. “It’s time for you to go.”

  She nodded, protesting no longer. The two of them stood in silence for a moment. Then, she hugged him one last time. “I’m going to come back for all of you. I promise. I won’t forget.”

  “I know you won’t.” Venti clung to her for a moment longer, then reluctantly pushed her away. “Now go. I’ll buy you guys some time. Be safe. Stay cautious. Your journey is only going to get harder from here.”

  Her legs were heavy as lead when she forced herself to walk away. She waved goodbye to Venti, who was making no effort to hide his tears. She felt his gaze linger on her while she picked her way through the destroyed Thousand Winds Temple. She could not allow herself to look back. If she did, she knew she might go running back to him. Her time with the Venti she knew had been too short, but she would treasure it until she found herself back to him again.

  She did not want to leave Monstadt. Not anymore. But she had no choice. Against all odds, she accomplished her first quest. She had the Anemo gnosis and kept her life. One down. Six more to go.

  Onward to Liyue.

  A few hours later, Venti still remained at the Thousand Winds Temple. He had reverted to his mortal disguise and had once again taken a seat on a fallen pillar to softly play his lyre. The sun was beginning to set, casting the world in its darkness. He could feel the wind whispering to him, telling him of Her Grace’s whereabouts. Southwest from here, towards the Stone Gate. When they pass through, you will be cut off. But we will always be watching over her.

  He smiled. Though the Anemo gnosis was no longer with him, he felt assured that its powers were in the right hands. He was aware of the prophecy speaking of Caratrice’s reincarnation. Now that he was freed from the Madness, he could remember everything he had learned. The Abysmal powers that had previously infected him were comparable to that of a mask: it clouded his senses, obscuring his judgment and confusing his mind. When he looked back on how he had felt before Cara’s light cleansed him, all he could recall was anger and hatred. It was an unnatural feeling. The memories did not feel like his own. Even back in the Archon War days, when he had been in his prime, he had refused to act out on raw emotion. He did not consider himself a vengeful god. The Madness had turned him into a twisted version of himself that made him feel sick to his stomach.

   If the Madness did that to someone like me, he thought, then what type of person has it turned Morax into?

  The wind trembled. He felt fear.

  Then, a foreign presence he knew, and now hated, entered his mind. His eyes opened and he smiled. The time has come. Just as he anticipated.

   “Barbatos,” the false Creator hissed. Her voice no longer sounded as sweet as the Madness had made it out to be. “Where is she?”

   He continued to gently strum his lyre. “I don’t know.”

   “She isn’t in the city. She isn’t in Springvale. The Abyss cannot find her anywhere in Monstadt. You told me she was heading for your location. You assured me you had this under control. So what happened?”

  Gods, her voice was sickening to listen to. Venti felt slightly ill. It felt like poison was slowly being injected into his bloodstream. “She never showed up. The winds don’t know where she is either. You better keep searching.”

  The false Creator snarled. “You dare talk to me with that tone?”

  “My apologies. I meant no offense by it.”

  She was silent. If not for the oppressive mental force bearing down upon him, he would have thought she left. He held his breath and closed his eyes. Though he knew what would come next, he still found himself bracing.

  Gigantic claws seized his brain. Venti’s eyes flew open and his mouth dropped in a silent scream as he was rendered immobile. His lyre dropped from his hands.

   “Did you think you could fool me?” the false Creator whispered dangerously into his ear. “Barbatos…you traitor. You despicable rodent.”

   “I am no traitor.” Venti struggled to speak, and yet he found it within himself to laugh. “I am freed. What sort of god of freedom would I be if not for that?”

   “Silence!” The false Creator roared. “You are in no position to speak right now! Is she in Liyue? If she is, you know she will not survive there long. You are delivering her right into death’s claws!”

  “You underestimate her. She won’t go down so easily. A dragon never loses its fire. She will fly again.”

  The weight of the false Creator’s consciousness was growing heavier and heavier. “You will be punished for this, Barbatos. For your disobedience, you will suffer. I cannot kill you. But I can break you, and I will take you back as my pawn. Caratrice will be found. I will capture her. And when I do, you will be the one to kill her. I will take your hands and force them to carve out her heart, and I will make you watch as you kill the one you adore with as much freedom and clarity I can give you. Do you understand me? You have angered me greatly.”

  “You…won’t find her.” Venti grimaced in pain. He could feel his entire body being squeezed, like he was being crushed, and it was excruciating. Barely able to speak, he managed to sputter out his final words. “I have seen the future. I know what will happen. The wind…will always be there to protect her. The wind…will forever love her like I do.”

  The false Creator let out an infuriated bellow. The great claws clamped down on Venti, and this time, he did scream. His shriek of pain caused the wind to roil, and a great gust swept over the Thousand Winds Temple with enough force to rattle the ruins and whips wounds into the earth. Something was being pumped into his mind…and then it was in his body, and finally infecting his heart. The image of Cara’s smiling face was lost. He completely passed out.

  When he awoke, all he could feel was anger, and all he could see was red.

[nerdyvocals]

Need to know your thoughts on Cynthia putting on that jacket when they get home from the dance. Cause I have a couple theories which both might be false.

1. The jacket is their father’s jacket and Cynthia needed some type of love so put the jacket on for comfort.

2. The jacket could be what Cynthia wanted to wear to the dance…

Would love to know your thoughts on this scene.

Hooo boy I am so glad someone asked me specifically about this, because I am actually very qualified to talk about it!!!

If you don't know me; Hi, I'm Levi, I am a theatre student, I'm currently working toward a degree in costume design and technology, and I have Big Opinions on clothing. Before I actually start talking about said opinions, let me first give a quick rundown on Costumes 101. Disclaimer: my education has been largely in the realm of stage production, but in Costume Land there is a very large overlap between stage and screen, with the main differences being on the technical side, which I will get more into later. That said, given the genre and tone of this show, my stage knowledge will apply.

And a word of warning: this anon has released a beast and this is going to be a long post, therefore I am putting my analysis under the cut. Also, apologies to those I tag, just want to make sure images and gifs get their proper credit.

Now, first and foremost, the purpose of costume on both screen and stage is to give insight into each character and passively tell a story. Therefore, nothing is coincidence and everything is intentional. Color, silhouette, piece, and style are all meticulously selected to bring a character to life and tell the audience who they are.

Example: In the live yesterday, Tricia Fukuhara mentioned requesting a beret she saw in the costume shop for Nancy, and while they did end up putting Nancy in several hats, she was told berets specifically were reserved for another character, Lydia. We do actually see another thespian with a beret, Alice (who IMDb tells me is played by Emilee Nimetz), which has... interesting implications, but that's for another post.

So let's see what we're working with here.

(gif by @stbot)

The first thing I notice is fairly obvious: this coat doesn't fit. That shoulder seam should be sitting right on the ball of their shoulder (think top of the shoulder cap); it's nearly halfway down their upper arm. Think it looks long here? Even when they're standing, it hits about mid-thigh. Not to mention that the sleeves themselves are baggy and way too long. They are swimming in this coat.

What does this mean? This coat isn't Cynthia's.

One could argue that it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility that Cynthia would own an ill-fitting coat; given the time period, I imagine it would be hard for a girl to find men's clothing in her size. Except, for the most part, Cynthia's masc clothing does fit.

(gif by @greasegifs)

(gif by @wlwshipper)

(gif by @greasegifs)

(Image by @jealous-kippen)

Cynthia clearly has no problem finding men's clothing that fits. That said, there are technical reasons behind why a garment must fit beyond story-telling. Namely: actors' safety.

Out of any single one of Cynthia's looks, I would argue that this monstrosity:

(Image credit: promo shot)

would be the most likely candidate for ill-fitting garment, character-wise. Everything we know about Cynthia suggests that they aren't the type of person to buy a dress they will likely only wear once (i.e., they are poor: single-parent home, always hungry, excitement over free food (Buddy's campaign candy), and it appears that they live in an apartment).

All this to say, it would make sense for this dress in particular to not fit, and yet, it does. Why? There's a dance scene. While the hand jive itself is not a particularly intensive dance move, Ari is standing on tables, climbing on cars, jumping, crouching, all manner of things that would be dangerous to do in a garment that was too big.

(Side note: I've seen quite a few people suggest that this is an old dress or possibly a hand-me-down from somewhere, or if anything, purchased second-hand. I have reason to believe it's not, but again, that's another post).

Of course, Ari, and by extension, Cynthia, isn't doing anything in the Coat Scene (tm) that would endanger them by wearing something too big. Even still, given their previous wardrobe, it's out of place. And like I said before, nothing is coincidence and everything is intentional. And why is it significant that the coat is too big? Because nothing else that Cynthia wears is.

Now, all this was a very long-winded way to say that this is Papa Zdunowski's coat. It's clearly not Cynthia's, and their dad is the only other person they live with. So yes, dearest Anon, your theory is most definitely correct.

Cynthia had just had probably one of the worst nights in their young life. Their friend group has fallen apart, they've messed up big time with their oldest friend, Richie has been arrested, and they're being forced to confront that they are queer. They come home to an empty house, either literally (dad's still at the shop and mom hasn't been there in a long time) or figuratively (dad's asleep, and mom hasn't been there in a long time). Either way, it's not like they can really talk to anyone about what's been going on with them. But they desperately need comfort. So what do they do?

They wear their father's coat like a hug and get drunk on the couch.

Thank you and good night.

(if anyone wants to hear the costume tangents I forced myself to avoid or just wants to hear more costume rants, feel free to hit up my ask box or dms. I chose this career for a reason and if you give me permission, I Will Not Shut Up.)

[avelera]

Random warm-up thoughts as I dive into writing this weekend (ayooo!) but as much as I am a firm believer in bisexual Hob supremacy, the OG fan of it being absolutely inextricable from his essential identity, this man fucks and he fucks regardless of gender...

(And here's where we get into some lengthy Giving Sanctuary Behind-the-Scenes!)

... when I write him in a historical context like Giving Sanctuary I do write him as coming from a time when marriage was simply understood as being between men and women.

Let me explain! (And by doing so, let's also explore what marriage meant historically for much of Hob's life, what divorce meant, and why male friendships really were like that in such a way as to make it very hard for Dream and Hob to parse if the other is interested in them romantically as well.)

To clarify, I don't mean "marriage between a man and a woman" just in some conservative, reductive way. Throughout history, many het* couples didn't bother to get married formally, officially before a priest or whatever in Europe, particularly if they were peasants like Hob, because marriage was a formal affair, more of a business transaction, all about the sharing of property. Marriage wasn't necessarily even romantic or aligned with romance as we'd imagine today. This is a sweeping generalization that's not true across all the periods Hob has lived through, even by 1689, but I just want to make clear where I'm coming from for the next part.

Hob certainly had other life partners before Eleanor, in my mind, but Eleanor was the first person he married with the intention of founding a dynasty, so to speak, sharing property, and having official descendants, as part of his grand plan to sort of pin himself to this world and immortality by having his many times over great-grandchildren by Eleanor to look after over the years.

Hob in Giving Sanctuary still thinks of a relationship between a man and a woman as being... not more legitimate by any means, but as being more formal, having more privileges in terms of recognition by society, and this is not me trying to be a pedantic jerk or make Hob homophobic, far from it. He has had deep, abiding love affairs with men for long stretches of time (obviously for Hob, not a lifetime), relationships he'd see as just as emotionally legitimate as his marriage to Eleanor. Relationships he was probably even open about with his inner circle as being sworn to one another and exclusive. But that wasn't marriage in the historical sense of his time and place pre-1689. That's not the binding of two houses, that's not confirmed by wider society at large, which Hob so hungered to be a part of in the 1500s. Hob would never be against the idea of being married to a man, formally, but it's so far outside his context in the 1600s that the thought doesn't even occur to him as something that might be available to him, especially with regards to Dream, or occur to Hob that Dream might consider it as an option with Hob.

(For the record, Dream is part of a supernatural world that would absolutely see marriage between two men* as totally legitimate, but Hob does not know that and it would blow his mind to learn that Dream is metaphorically doodling the seating charts for their grand eldritch wedding as we speak.)

Which brings me, first, to Calliope and Hob's borderline masochistic insistence that she be the one to go to Dream when he's grieving, to patch things up and maybe get back together and forgive each other. Keep in mind, Hob also lives in an era where divorce was practically unheard of except for annulments due to lack of consummation or because of adultery, along with a few other very rare and very expensive exceptions. Divorces were quite hard to achieve. To Dream, when he says Calliope is his former wife he means it in the modern sense of they are divorced, something that was legal and regularly practiced in say, Ancient Rome, so Dream is very familiar with the concept. Hob, less so.

So one very subtle miscommunication happening when discussing Calliope is that when Dream says "former wife" he means it in a very final sense of "legally" divorced, separated, no longer a family unit. Hob, however is hearing something more along the lines of "separated" - they had a child together so non-consummation is clearly not present. She was a wife, not a partner, she was a goddess so it was a binding of houses, a contract. To Hob's ears, he's hearing that Calliope and Dream no longer live together but that doesn't preclude Calliope moving back in down the line and simply resuming the marriage where it left off, particularly since she does not mention having remarried or found another partner since then.

And furthermore, this woman/goddess is the mother of Dream's (deceased) son! She has precedent over Hob as Dream's lover. If she shows the least interest, or if Dream did, Hob would bow out in a heartbeat (a brokenhearted one, of course). Because that concept of man/woman* marriage being somehow more legitimate, more open, more accepted, more formal applies here. He could still, in theory, be Dream's lover on the side if that were to happen, not that he dares hope for that, but if Calliope returned, the agreement to tend one another might even be in jeopardy, because the whole "helpmate" thing is built into the concept of marriage.

One reason for Hob's obsessive insistence on being Dream's friend and being sworn to tend him is that it keeps the door open to staying by Dream's side, albeit in a more limited capacity than now, is if this estranged wife ever decided to return. He could still at least have a claim to some fraction of Dream's time as his friend if that were to happen. Calliope really did need to insist that she has zero interest in ever returning to Dream, yes, that many times over and then force the issue by refusing to go to Dream's side to comfort him before Hob really understood that this marriage has been truly over for the past 2000+ years and not just temporarily suspended.

Now, speaking of Hob's claim to being Dream's friend, another perhaps subtle, almost invisible element of this story that is hard to comment on within it because it would be as natural to Hob (our POV) character as breathing and therefore not something he'd mentally comment on, is historical male bonding.

Much of why it's not obvious to Hob (or Dream) how they feel romantically for one another is because both are from a context of a pre-Puritanical, pre-20th c. homophobia mindset as far as male closeness. Men historically embraced, held hands (yes, sometimes to show they were together so they wouldn't be seen as easy targets for mugging, a practice still common in parts of the world today!), shared a bed together, and spoke of one another in effusive, indeed quite romantic terms. Just look at some old epics where men swear themselves to their comrades in arms, the fact that Achilles/Patroclus was considered debatably platonic relationship at various points of history, not just because commentators were being dense but because loving your male friend so much that you wanted to die without him was just kind of something guys said in many warrior cultures. Many aggressively (by today's standards so * needed) heterosexual, macho, warrior type men thought it was effeminate to love their wives too much and not prefer their male friends and not as sexual or romantic partners necessarily.

My point is, when Hob says things like how wearing Dream's colors would just make the outer appearance match the inner heart, he's speaking in the way men talked about their close friends or even their superiors, a beloved liege lord, back then. He doesn't think he's saying anything particularly romantic, and indeed, for his context he isn't saying anything particularly romantic! Even sharing a bed or cuddling for warmth wouldn't necessarily be seen as explicitly romantic or sexual. Men were just more demonstrably close to one another in many eras he lived through.

Hob has not, to this point, outed himself as in love with Dream at all despite all the (by modern standards) romantic stuff he's said or all the times they've cuddled or touched one another. Everything they've done could be seen as just them being very close, but nothing has been romantic or sexual in any way that would necessarily be questionable for that time. And that assumption of Hob's, that all the affection they've shown to one another is plausibly platonic, is doing a lot of heavy lifting right now, combined with his own insecurities after 80 years of suffering and privation, for how and why he doesn't see anything that has happened between him and Dream as being the greenlight to make his also romantic and sexual interest known.

Dream is just bad at emotions and expressing himself, which is why he's been too dumb to use his words and ask for what he wants yet, lol. But! He is also aware of this effusive male friendship culture (Shakespeare's works are littered with it!) so he too has not seen any behavior that he would take as the greenlight to make overtures or declare his romantic interest clearly enough for Hob to not feel he's misinterpreting based on his own desires.

But we'll get there ;)

[cyjammy]

I’m Doing It, I’m Talking About Them:

No, this isn’t a comparison about delivery or the voices. I respect both of the VAs and Viv’s choice. I’m not a song analyst nor do I claim to know anything about music, I just love writing and want to share my thoughts.

First off, both songs have me in a chokehold. When Addict came out a few years ago I was there for the premiere, in a period where it was all I would listen to on repeat for weeks, watching how beautiful the animation was and just being excited for the release of Hazbin in general.

Since the sudden release of Poison, I have been listening to it on repeat. After a year of not listening to Addict, I’ve been listening to that as well and comparing them.

Both unique in their own right, they do share similar themes since they surround Angel Dust’s life as a prostitute with an over controlling boss.

Since it was a fan song (praise Silva Hound, I love all his music), Addict was primarily focused on the hotel. There wasn’t much known about the series outside of the pilot and the occasional Huni-cast or livestream Q & A on Viv’s channel.

And it was impressive that so much could be portrayed with limited knowledge about Angel.

The repetitiveness of living the same life day by day, the pressure of perfection when it came to performing, knowing that one mistake could render him obsolete and forfeit his “life.”

Angel Dust is strong despite having all these vices. He keeps moving forward even when he is bed ridden from his trauma.

How Valentino treats him is horrendous period. He’s most likely under contract and doesn’t have a choice, but he tries his best to show it doesn’t bother him and puts up a strong front.

When Vivzie put her spin on the song with those fantastic visuals and her own image of Angel Dust (props to the animators, they KILLED it), it took the song to new heights. We were given so much more context into what the tone of Hazbin would be.

And it was all through the lens of this upbeat pop song with all these effects and explosions until the slower moments with Angel Dust breaking down with only Cherri to support him. And the reprise of the chorus was even more emotional.

My mind was blown! The pilot took a much more lighthearted approach to introduce the characters and put the idea out there.

Addict is the point where Angel Dust acknowledges his flaws and hopes he can have a place to be safe from the hellish life he is living in the Hotel.

Through Poison, we’re getting an in depth look into Angel Dust’s feelings and experiences as a product of the industry. It’s focused more on his feelings as a pornstar under an oppressive thumb.

He knows he’s in a situation he can’t escape and numbs himself with drugs to keep himself afloat.

He has regrets in Poison and puts a focus on Valentino leading him to this life, but he acknowledges that he definitely played the largest part in it.

The decision to make a deal with a demon.

He wanted the attention and the party life, but he definitely didn’t sign up to be SA’ed.

And battered, manipulated, beaten and broken.

Nobody would.

There is also a focus on how he is keeping up a lie to hide from the pain, becoming what he hated most

Angel lies just as much as Valentino.

Angel knows if he keeps obeying Valentino and ignoring his pain, he’ll die again, possibly a much more painful death than in life. But it’s all he knows as of now since it has kept him alive for so long.

And it may keep him alive or that luck might run out. There are no guarantees with someone as malevolent and despicable as Valentino.

He struggles to go on, and it takes a much more different approach than Addict, which ended on a hopeful note, but in Poison…

I feel like the animation is definitely going to go farther than the few suggestive scenes in Addict.

It just makes me think Angel will not last until the end of the series.

Angel Dust is definitely going to be way more complex than most of the cast. He keeps up appearances when in large groups, but when he’s alone or thinks nobody is watching (Husk pointing out his “drinking to forget” in the trailer) he’ll definitely show his true self.

All these defenses and walls were put in place to keep him alive, so much so it’s a habit. Hopefully he may try to become better and free himself from Valentino.

Or he’ll keep working as a pornstar for eternity.

Whichever direction the story goes will definitely be entertaining.

To conclude my long ass babbling and screaming into the void, I’m excited for Hazbin Hotel and can’t wait to see what direction Vivzie takes in terms of storytelling for her wonderful show. I’m so ready for the 19th!

[catboybiologist]

I’m considering getting a Russian tortoise, I’m still early in the researching phase though. How do you like it??

I love him! He's surprisingly active and affectionate, and is extremely comfortable being handled. Overall, I would describe the ownership experience as "extensive startup, low ongoing maintenance". Most of the effort comes from ensuring you have a spacious, properly heated habitat with appropriate levels of enrichment, shelter, etc. But once you have everything set up, and maintain it well, its pretty easy day to day care. Food is all leafy greens (with small calcium supplementation) that are rotated out for nutrition and enrichment, which actively encourages me to eat healthier by sharing food with him. With the right substrate, you can spot clean poop and urates easily. I take him outside whenever I can, and he's a little charmer when scampering out on the field near my apartment. That doesn't cover everything, of course, but should give you an idea of what its like.

I can't speak from a typical ownership experience, because he's an old boy that was part of an educational program for ~20 years before I got him, and has had extensive handling and habituation, making him a very friendly lil guy. I also worked with him as an employee of that program before taking him home, so I already knew a bit of what I was getting in to- I don't know what it would be like starting with 0 knowledge.

The one thing I will say is that they're a very long term commitment. While my lil guy's exact age is unknown, he's probably somewhere around 30-40, and probably has another decade or two in him. You also have to have good plans for what you're going to do when you travel or can't maintain the cage daily- I have someone nearby that I temporarily move him in with whenever I'm out of town for extended periods of time (side note- I want to make him a very large, but easily foldable/easy disassemble enclosure from scratch, if anyone has any suggestions I'd love to hear it!) But you really gotta make sure you can commit to that for the long haul, and have people in your life who are backup plans.

[manchurian-barnes]

Not Alone (Bucky Barnes X Reader Fan Fic)

At long last a return to writing!

Hello! I like to write and will have more for you to read in time so you should totally check out My Masterlist!

Fic Below Cut, Quick Synopsis -

You know Bucky Barnes has never been a person who enjoys goodbyes, not a man who enjoys letting go. Reminded of his best friend's passing by the anniversary of his death, you find Bucky reminising, tormented by memory.

The morning light started to filter through the light curtains of your shared bedroom. Morning was your most favourite time of day, the smell coming from the coffee machine and the birds chirping outside was a gentle call to action for the day.

It was a far stretch from the small apartment you'd once shared with Bucky, back in the days after you had both returned from being ash... Many things had changed, for one you'd moved to this house, one that was left to you. Another change, another adjustment had been the loss of dear friends, of team members. Steve Rogers returning an old man from his mission to return the stones. Bucky held your hands tightly between his, the night he had been informed of Steve's plan. 

"Bucky-he...no he can't be serious!" You spoke in a voice that wobbled; your usual steely resolve shattered a little at the idea of more time being lost. "Doll...When he told me, I wanted to be mad, I wanted to tell him to stay but..." His voice was huskier, his tongue darter out to lick his bottom lip, “...if it was us, and i knew they only way I could be with you...was to go back...I don't think anyone could tell me anything that would make me stay in a time period without you.". He let out a weak sigh, and you saw the way a part of him crumbled, without Steve, without his friend, he no longer had ties to the man he once had been. He looked into your eyes, and all the pain and the fear made your heart ache.

That was around two years ago, and after a period of adjustment, and the roughest patch you'd witnessed bucky go through - the two of you started to make a life together, started to make it work, to give Bucky a future.

You reached your hand out across the bed and sighed when you found Buck's side to be empty and cold. "Bub?!" You called out, sitting up and brushing your hair away from your eyes. After stretching your arms above your head, you walked downstairs. "Buck?" Your voice was a little unsure, honestly wracking your mind trying to figure out where he was. Then you spotted him, looking through the large kitchen window, walking towards the sink, leaning over, and knocking. Bucky turned to see you, and you just knew...something was deeply wrong within him.

Pulling the door open the light breeze hit your skin, head tilting to the left, you moved towards Bucky. "Morning beautiful..." He mumbled; his lips collided to your forehead peppering gentle kisses into your skin. He just took a deep breath and wrapped his arms tightly round you. It was easy just to sink into him, breathing in hard and just letting out a soft hum. "How long have you been up?" You asked after a few minutes of this silent intense embrace. "Would ya be annoyed if I admitted I've been up since midnight?" His voice was low. It took a moment, but you sighed back at him "Honestly, I'd be more annoyed if you tried to lie about that." He chuckled a bit when you spoke. "It's been two years y/n." He stated gently, pain was evident in his tone. There was a dull thud in your chest, pain, pain for him. "Oh, baby I didn't realise-" Guilt washed over you, just for a moment. You knew rationally that days were busy, and your coping mechanism was to bury grief.

Bucky was unlike you in this way. Buck didn't want to forget the grief; he had mostly learned to live with that sort of pain. "I don't have any regrets you know?" He let out gently, brushing his left hand down the side of your cheek, his touch was cold but familiar and comforting. He noticed the micro nod that happened in response. "I just miss my friend sometimes." He stated, he wasn’t justifying his grief to you, more talking himself out of the pit he had fell into overnight. "He won’t get to come to our wedding...he won’t get to meet my kids...he won’t be there and..." His throat closed. "It fucking sucks." You finished for him, a sad smile flashing across your face, "yeah..." He let out a breathy laugh, "Fuckin' sucks." he repeated. He let you move backwards from him. His head turned, and he just watched the way the leaves on the trees surrounding the house moved with the wind.

"He isn't gone." Your voice was back, you'd found the words you needed. The boards of the porch creaked and after a minute you found yourself sitting down on the steps, Bucky took time, but he joined you. His hand came to rest on your thigh, squeezing a little. “He isn’t gone.” You repeated, your voice sounded a bit stronger to Buck, he could see it on your face – wholehearted belief in the words you were speaking. “Steve isn’t gone, you have him right here with you, bub…Steve left us this house, our future will happen here, with his memories. You’ve got memories that you will get to share…” You explained to him. His head fell to your shoulder, and he just breathed, nodding a little bit at the words. “I know Doll.” He whispered to you, “You know, I almost forgot the anniversary was comin’…I almost forgot about him.”. There it was, that’s why he could sleep, he was wracked with guilt about it all.

You turned after a moment and scooped up his cheeks between your hands. He smiled a little bit as he looked into your eyes. “James.” You whispered, “You aren’t going to forget Steve.” You spoke, “You will never forget him.” You kissed his nose and then let your forehead rest against his. “I almost did.” He told you. His eyes screwed right up. “Bucky…he wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for healing.” It took a second for Bucky to open his eyes back up. Looking right into your eyes. Leaning forwards your lips collided with his, and he clung to your hips, tugging you closer. He let you break backwards. “y/n, doll…I’ll be okay...I’ve got my best girl…I’ll be okay.” He assured you. He smiled as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“We will take him some flower’s later today, but right now, we are going upstairs.” You whispered into his ear, and he let out a little huff. “James Barnes…the whole broody man thing is incredibly sexy and all…but you have to sleep. No matter how determined you are to not”. He laughed at you as you said it. “I love you.” He whispered. “I love you so much…and I don’t know what I’d do…if I didn’t have you...” You stood, tugging him up with you, slipping your arms around his neck and tugging him down into a harder kiss. You kept your eyes shut, just breathing with him, “You…don’t have to think like that…I’m here for the long-haul Barnes.”

You reached across the bed, and wrapped an arm around Buck’s waist pulling yourself closer. Laying against his back. The grief would never go away. Neither would you, he wrapped a hand around your arm, holding you close. He’d be okay…He had you.

The end.

And we are back ya’ll for anyone new to seeing posts from this blog hello! I haven’t posted in three years and for anyone who follows me hello I am making a return to writing. Kind of starting fresh, but don’t worry you can still find my old fics!