#shes radiating a particular type of energy

[wildstar25]

[wooliguns]

iii. take me back to the light, i know you were way too bright for me; i’m hopeless, broken

Venti tries his absolute best to stay still, hoping Albedo will capture the aesthetic essence he aims for in his latest sketch. However, staying perfectly motionless proves more difficult than expected—his nose itches and an annoying yawn threatens to break free. He’s determined not to let it ruin things, but, well, that resolve lasts until he notices the telltale quirk forming at the corner of Albedo’s lips.

“Unbelievable,” Venti mutters, unceremoniously letting the book he’s been balancing on his head topple onto the grass. He kneels, scowling. “Oh, so that’s how it is. Still-life, my ass. Didn’t think I’d live to see the day you’d betray me, Albedo.” His voice drips with exaggerated flatness.

Albedo, ever the composed and good-natured pest, chuckles. He sets his sketchpad down and pencil, revealing his ruse. Blank. There’s nothing on the damn page. “I’m sorry,” he rumbles, not sounding the least bit sorry. “You looked so eager to pose. I couldn’t help but play along.” His aquamarine eyes glint waywardly under the sunlight, making him look utterly angelic despite being the unalloyed bane of Venti’s existence right now.

“Oh, I hate you. Hope you know that,” Venti says with a huff, even though, realistically, he could never hate Albedo. Not if the guy one day decided to step on his face and spit on his shoes, he would still probably shrug it off with a grin.

Albedo doesn’t reply, just smiles victoriously as he pulls his golden hair into a neat ponytail. He starts setting up for an actual drawing session this time, which is the least he can do after wasting Venti’s precious minutes.

Slightly mollified, Venti sidles up closer to him, his annoyance ebbing as he becomes enthralled by the scattered sketches piled around Albedo’s feet. The artist’s talent, irritatingly impressive as always, radiates from every line on every page. Venti’s gaze lands on a particular drawing of Klee, Albedo’s younger stepsister, and beams.

“She just turned eleven,” Albedo informs casually, conceivably noticing Venti’s interest.

Venti immediately glows brighter, then soon after crumples into melodramatic woe. “What?! Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve gotten her a gift! Or��or baked her something!”

Albedo shrugs, unbothered as he slides more sketches into a clear binder. “I didn’t think about it at the time. Sorry.”

“Ugh, valid. But next time, tell me.” Venti spins around and pulls his phone out, fingers flying across the screen. “What’s her birthday? I’m setting an alarm so you can’t escape me again.”

“Twenty-seventh,” Albedo replies.

Venti types furiously and then pockets his phone with a triumphant grin. “Got it. I’ll get her something amazing.”

“It’s okay, you really don’t have to,” Albedo tells him, calmly, albeit sounding a little concerned too. His soft puppy-dog eyes are nearly enough to make Venti hesitate—but only nearly.

“I want to,” Venti insists, indignant. “I missed her birthday; let me make it up to her! Besides, I’m getting paid this week, so it’s settled.”

With a sigh, Albedo relents. “Fine. Do what you like.”

Venti flops back onto the grass, folding his arms behind his head as the sun warms his face. Victory tastes sweet.

They lounge in their usual campus park spot from there. While Venti practices the ukulele he borrowed from the music hall (being broke is an art form he’s mastered), Albedo takes advantage of his unexpected free time. His professor had canceled class, leaving him with no pressing obligations—besides badgering Venti, apparently.

Venti’s gaze drifts toward the school gates, where he spots Xingqiu walking with someone. In an instant, Venti is up like a sprightly meerkat, waving wildly. “Hey!”

Xingqiu notices him immediately, beaming as he pivots toward their tree. He tugs his companion along, breaking into an easy jog to reach them.

“Barbatos!” Xingqiu greets with a laugh, and Venti jumps to his feet, ready to match the energy.

“Well, well, who’s this?” Venti quips, grinning as he hip-checks Xingqiu.

“We just had lunch off-campus,” Xingqiu explains, gesturing to his companion. “Oh, by the way—this is my best friend, Chongyun. Chongyun, meet Venti and Albedo.”

At the name, Venti squints at the new boy. Ice-blue hair? Check. Cat-like eyes? Check. Wait a minute…

“The kid from the topmost loos!” Venti exclaims, pointing at Chongyun with wide eyes.

Chongyun’s eyes shift nervously between Venti, Albedo, and Xingqiu before offering a sheepish smile. “Uh… yes, I guess we’ve met.”

“You have?” Xingqiu gasps, clearly affronted. A hand settles on his hip as he narrows his eyes. “How? And why wasn’t I informed? That’s sus.”

Venti arches a brow, already finding amusement in the dramatics. “What’s so suspicious about it? It was pure coincidence,” he conveys, smirking as he glances at Chongyun. “I was in a hurry to use the bathroom, and this guy was taking his sweet time.”

Xingqiu clears his throat, gaze flicking to Chongyun. “Hmm. I wonder why that is.”

Chongyun flushes a deep red, waving his hands defensively. “Nothing! I—I was just… struggling to zip my fly!”

The group collectively winces. Even Albedo, who has been serenely flipping through his sketches, momentarily pauses to grimace before returning to his task.

“I see,” Xingqiu utters flatly, his sigh heavy with resignation.

Venti bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Still, his mind snags on something else entirely: Xingqiu’s recent confession. This Chongyun—the flustered, earnest boy Xingqiu’s been quietly pining for—is him.

“A-anyway!” Chongyun stammers, seemingly desperate to change the subject. “It’s nice to meet you properly. Again, I’m Chongyun. And you’re Venti, right? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Venti blinks. “You have?”

Chongyun nods, and his blush deepens as he scratches the back of his neck. “Xiao talks about you sometimes.”

Something warm sparks in Venti’s chest—flattery, maybe. Or disbelief. Or the terrifying realization that his beloved Xiao casually brings him up in conversation with strangers.

Taking Chongyun’s outstretched hand, Venti shakes it steadfastly, offering a wide grin. “Nice to meet you too, Chongyun.”

“That’s a surprise,” Albedo interjects without looking up. “I thought Venti knew everyone on campus.”

“Hehe, guess not!” Venti scratches at his nape.

“Honestly, I thought so too,” Xingqiu adds, grinning slyly.

With the formalities over, Chongyun and Xingqiu join them on the grass. Xingqiu pulls out a novel he’s been raving about lately, while Chongyun carefully situates his camera on his lap like it’s a priceless artifact. They sit close—very close—and Venti can’t help but watch them interact.

For one, Xingqiu laughs at everything Chongyun says, practically glowing. Chongyun, in turn, performs these oddly endearing little gestures, like miming exaggerated impressions or fixing the stray hairs on Xingqiu’s collar. The way they light up around each other is almost… sickeningly sweet.

Venti leans back against the tree, trying not to feel like a third wheel. Or a fourth wheel. Or a fifth, because Albedo is also here, ignoring everyone as he taps away on his phone.

Still, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Xingqiu not long ago—a confession of sorts, one that lingers in the back of his mind.

“Have you… ever been in love, Venti?” Xingqiu had asked one evening, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Fallen in love, Barbatos. You know, head over heels? Completely whipped? The kind of thing that makes you forget your own name because you’re too busy imagining their smile?”

Oh, if only you knew, Venti had thought.

“Hmm. I’ve been feeling that way lately,” Xingqiu had continued. “Like my heart’s too big for my chest, and I’m half convinced it might explode. It’s… unsettling.”

Venti had agreed, labeling it as fatal.

Because he knows. Archons, does he know…

Watching Xingqiu and Chongyun now, he can’t help but feel envious. Xingqiu had been so open about his feelings—so willing to hope. Venti, on the other hand, has been holding his own emotions hostage, trapped in a tangle of longing and fear.

He forces himself to look away when Chongyun gently brushes a crumb from Xingqiu’s cheek, eliciting a bashful flush from the boy.

Clearing his throat, Venti decides to meddle—because jealousy makes him petty, and Xingqiu deserves a tiny bit of embarrassment. “So, Chongyun,” he starts, all faux innocence, “which department are you from? Not that I’m ignoring the giant camera in your lap or anything, but I don’t want to assume.”

Chongyun glances up, smiling politely. “Photography.”

Venti hums, nodding. “Ah, that explains why you know Xiao,” he says, chest tightening at the mere mention of the name.

“Yeah, we have a few classes together. Xiao’s the top student. Professor Baizhu absolutely adores him,” Chongyun says, grinning with obvious admiration. “I actually look up to him. The guy’s just… great at what he does.”

Venti snorts a laugh, already expecting such praise. “Why am I not surprised? He’s a perfectionist, through and through. Trust me, I’d know—I’ve been his best friend for almost four years.”

And there it is, Venti thinks. Apparently, announcing his role in Xiao’s life to every new person he meets has become part of his personality. Not ideal, but what can you do? It’s the truth.

He shifts gears, trying to steer the conversation back to the two lovebirds sitting in front of him. “But what about you two? How long have you known each other?”

Chongyun and Xingqiu exchange a look, and it’s immediately clear who’s more affected by the question. Xingqiu blushes, a faint pink blooming across his freckled cheeks, before quickly looking away, fumbling with the bracelet on his wrist.

Venti detects it right away—especially because it matches the one on Chongyun’s wrist. How quaint. Matching accessories. Venti bites back a sigh of longing. Would Xiao ever agree to something like that with me? Probably not.

“Since elementary school,” Chongyun answers eventually, holding his hand up to count his fingers. “Yeah, I’m sure it was back then.”

“That’s a long time,” Venti muses, tilting his head as he ponders. “Even longer than Xiao and I.”

Chongyun hums in agreement, nodding with a small smile.

“And let me guess,” Venti continues, smirking as he glances at Xingqiu, whose head is practically buried in his chest at this point. “You share some classes too?”

“Yup!” Chongyun says cheerfully, completely oblivious to Xingqiu’s growing discomfort, perhaps.

Venti leans back with a knowing grin. “How sweet,” he drawls, regarding Xingqiu who looks like he wants to sink into the grass and disappear, the poor lad’s face as red as a ripe tomato.

Alright, fine. I’ll let them off the hook, Venti decides. Everyone’s just a mess over someone around here, himself included. He really has no room to judge.

And just as that thought crosses his mind, he catches on a figure moving through the far end of the park. Even from a distance, Xiao is pronounced and sexily attractive in his jet-black hooded jacket and track pants, the loose fabric bunched up to reveal flashes of pale skin above his multi-colored Vans high-tops—a neon dissonance of green, purple, blue, and yellow, and… gods above, Venti mewls, sighing dreamily. Xiao could be wearing a potato sack and he’d still look cool, the hottest in Venti’s eyes… It’s infuriating, really, like damn it. He’s so effortlessly stylish, so skilled and keen, always putting himself together as if life were a runway. One of the many reasons Venti is utterly, hopelessly, permanently in love with him.

…Trailing behind Xiao is the usual gaggle of girls, giggling and whispering as they follow him across the park. Venti doesn’t even bother being jealous anymore. This is just how things are when you’re Xiao.

Still, he can’t help himself. He waves enthusiastically, raising an arm as if trying to steal his best friend’s attention from across a crowd.

Xiao glances in their direction and waves back, donning a neutral facial expression. A couple of the girls following him squint at Venti, likely wondering who’s earned such a rare acknowledgment, but Venti couldn’t care less. Instead, he focuses on how Xiao shifts his grip on a tripod in one hand and his DSLR camera in the other, turning to climb the staircase toward the upper levels of campus.

Venti can only watch him go, his heart sinking with every step the guy takes out of view.

“You’re so smitten,” Xingqiu suddenly drawls.

Venti whips his head around, fixing him with his most smug assertion. “Ha-ha. Look who’s talking.”

The boy tenses, his blush somehow deepening to a dangerous shade of scarlet. “W-what—”

“Oh, nothing,” Venti sing-songs, stretching the words with faux chaste. “Just saying, your dear Chongyun seems to have no idea how red your face gets every time he looks at you.”

Xingqiu’s jaw drops, but Venti shoots him a cheeky grin before he can protest and opens his mouth as if to say more.

That’s all it takes. Xingqiu grabs Chongyun’s hand, dragging him to his feet in a frantic rush. “We’re leaving. Right now.”

“Huh?” Chongyun blinks in confusion, appearing like a lost puppy. “But I thought we still had a few minutes? I was going to—”

“We don’t,” Xingqiu grits, discomfiture apparent now. “I just remembered—I need to stop by the library. Immediately. Let’s go.”

And just like that, they’re gone, leaving Venti and Albedo sitting alone under the tree.

Albedo snorts softly, looking up from his phone for the first time in a while. “Completely oblivious,” he murmurs.

“Painfully so,” Venti agrees, folding his arms over his chest, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

**

Venti doesn’t mind going home alone—not this time, anyway. When he texts Xiao to ask if they’ll be heading back together, the guy informs him that he’s tied up with a shoot and suggests Venti go ahead without him. Fair enough. Venti is more than ready to crash and call it a day, especially with tomorrow’s golden opportunity looming ahead: Saturday.

No classes. No coursework. No recitals. Just blissful freedom.

Sure, he has a morning shift at Cat’s Tail, but after that? He plans to plant himself on the couch, binge-watch whatever strikes his fancy, and fully embrace his inner couch potato. Just the thought of it has him grinning as he pushes open the door to their dorm.

“Home sweet home,” he purrs, wiggling his hips in delight as he tosses his keys into the bowl by the door. For once, he even bothers to line up his shoes neatly on the rack. Xiao would be so proud, he muses. Might even treat me to skewers for this feat of domesticity.

The dorm is quiet and spacious, much larger than most student housing, thanks to Xiao’s insistence on having ‘sufficient personal space’ and, well, his wallet. Xiao had been the one to pick the place, make the down payment, and ensure it was conveniently located near his sister’s dorm. Not that Venti’s complaining—having his own room, a shared living area, and a decent kitchen was a major upgrade from the shoe boxes he’d toured before Xiao came into the picture.

Ambling into the kitchen, Venti pulls open the fridge with his signature shit-eating grin—only to find it nearly empty. He sighs, shoulders slumping, already drafting a mental note to restock. He briefly considers texting Xiao about it but dismisses the idea. He’s got enough on his plate, Venti rationalizes. This is a tomorrow problem.

For now, he settles for reheating two slices of frozen mushroom pizza, demolishing them like a starving feral cat, and downing two glasses of water with the grace of a fish out of water. The loud, echoing burp he lets loose afterward is just icing on the cake.

When he finally crashes into his room, he checks his phone one last time for any messages from Xiao. Nothing. Shrugging, he succumbs to sleep, determined to wake early for work.

**

As it turns out, Xiao came home around midnight, skipping dinner since he’d eaten at the set, and headed straight to bed. He updated Venti about it the following morning, over a quick exchange before their schedules diverged.

**

By 8 AM the following day, Venti is at Cat’s Tail in his uniform: pale blue collared shirt, black slacks, a yellow plaid apron tied at the waist, and the shop’s signature pink hat complete with cat ears. His hair is tucked neatly into a hairnet beneath the hat, and he’s ready to tackle the pre-opening duties: tidying up, organizing supplies, and making sure the shop is as picture-perfect as its pastel aesthetic demands.

Cat’s Tail is a gem of an ice cream parlor, its interior designed to charm every visitor. The walls are immaculately white, decorated with beige and pink paw prints and playful kittens in soft pastel hues. The sky-blue tables match the bar-style stools, while cozy booths line the corners.

Outside, yellow-and-white umbrellas provide shade for the patio seating, surrounded by white wooden fences that give the place a quaint, cheerful vibe. The shop’s hot pink double doors are a bold touch that somehow works, a nod to the rumored influence of the owner’s daughter, Diona.

This place wasn’t always the sweet, family-friendly hangout it is today. It used to be a rowdy pub, where night-shift workers and weary men drowned their sorrows. But when Mr. Draff, the owner, had his daughter, everything changed. The inn was transformed into an ice cream establishment—a cooler, happier space to match the new chapter of his family’s life.

Venti finds the history oddly heartwarming, even if the cat-themed hat feels a little ridiculous at times. He adjusts it with a fond sigh as he wipes down the counter.

“Kaeya, have you seen Fischl? She was supposed to help me set up the toppings,” he calls after a bit more tinkering, addressing his co-worker, Kaeya—the ever-charismatic roommate of Diluc. The two of them met through the man himself, a friendship born of Venti’s frequent visits to Angel’s Share. Kaeya had casually mentioned Cat’s Tail one evening, and Venti, always on the lookout for more mora, decided to apply. Now here they are, slinging soft serve together.

A head crowned with sun-kissed skin pokes out of the walk-in fridge, Kaeya’s trademark grin lighting up the room. That grin, Venti decides, is worth bottling. Kaeya is like a sunbeam personified—fun, easy-going, and seemingly untouched by the tribulations of life. Venti doesn’t say it often, but he’s grateful for Kaeya’s energy. It’s like free therapy.

“She’s in here with me,” the man answers with a chuckle, stepping fully into view. “I’ll send her your way.”

“Barbatos, yo!” Fischl’s voice precedes her, and soon she’s traipsing out of the fridge, carrying a gallon of butterscotch ice cream. She strides to the dispenser, securing the tub in place. Without missing a beat, she dips a scooper into the icy contents and sets it aside before joining Venti to help sort the toppings. Fischl never needs to be told twice, one of the many reasons Venti tolerates her penchant for theatrical outbursts.

Meanwhile, Noelle is manning the syrup pumps, meticulously wiping the machines until they shine. She mops up a stray stain on the floor with almost military precision. The girl’s dedication to keeping things spotless is so eminent that even Mr. Draff sings her praises. If cleanliness is next to godliness, Noelle might as well be the Archon of Tidy.

At exactly 9:30 AM, the doors open, and customers trickle in. The morning crowd is manageable—two or three regulars at a time. Venti expertly taps away at the register while Fischl and Noelle handle the dispensers. Kaeya flits between tables, spraying and wiping surfaces while flashing his signature smile at anyone who looks his way.

Two hours pass in the usual blur of orders, scoops, and toppings. Then, blessedly, it’s break time.

Venti usually spends his fifteen-minute break sitting around, occasionally buzzing a table while keeping an eye on incoming customers. Today, however, a familiar pair of voices cuts through the mellow music.

“Barbatos!” Xiangling calls, bounding into view with Hu Tao in tow. The two are dressed casually—Xiangling in a black tee and blue jacket over gray leggings, while Hu Tao pairs her own black tee with denim shorts. Venti raises a brow because, hey, matching shirts? Interesting. Date vibes?

“Hey! What brings you two here?” he asks, standing up from one of the double booths he’s claimed for break-time loitering. Xiangling greets him with a quick peck on the cheek, followed by Hu Tao doing the same. Venti snickers inwardly; these two are always full of surprises.

“We were talking about what to eat, and Hu said she was craving something sweet,” Xiangling explains cheerfully. “So, Cat’s Tail it is!”

Hu Tao nods sagely, hands clasped behind her back. “It’s a good choice,” she says, as if this were some profound decision.

“Alright, then! What’ll it be?” Venti asks, stepping toward the counter, instinctively ready to serve. Xiangling and Hu Tao follow, stopping at the glass-covered dispensers where Fischl and Noelle are hard at work.

“Hey, Amy, Noelle,” Xiangling greets, peering at the neatly labeled mills of soft serve. She hums thoughtfully, licking her lips. “I’ll have Neapolitan, please. In a glass for here.”

Noelle springs into action, trilling, “Coming right up!” with her usual efficiency.

Hu Tao takes her time deciding, her pensive expression almost comical. Finally, she settles on Moose Tracks in a sugar cone. “No toppings,” she adds, waving Venti’s suggestion off with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

“Suit yourself,” Venti quips, grinning.

Xiangling, meanwhile, requests marshmallows and a cherry on top, paying for their orders before joining Hu Tao at a booth. Venti notices Xiangling trying to pull Hu Tao to sit beside her, only for Hu Tao to stubbornly plop down opposite her. Xiangling frowns but doesn’t push the matter.

From his vantage point, Venti watches the interaction, something niggling at the back of his mind. The usually rowdy Hu Tao is quieter today, her easy-going demeanor noticeably subdued. And Xiangling, ever the sunshine incarnate, seems… irresolute.

Are they in a fight? A disagreement? Venti furrows his brow, unsure if he should step in or leave them be. Knowing those two, it could be something as trivial as who forgot to save their progress in a co-op game.

Or… maybe it’s not so trivial.

Either way, he decides to give them space. “They’ll sort it out,” he mutters under his breath, pushing aside his concerns as he wipes down the counter. Probably.

He hopes so, anyway.

As he tidies up a set of glasses, his attention drifts back to Hu Tao and Xiangling, can’t help it, especially when what started as an unusually quiet interaction has now evolved into… something else. He bites his lip, and tips just a bit closer, trying not to make it obvious that he’s eavesdropping.

Alas, the two girls are gesturing wildly, Hu Tao’s hands cutting through the air with distinct exasperation while Xiangling frowns deeply, her eyes suspiciously glossy. Hu Tao’s mouth moves quickly—probably a blend of rebuttals and damage control—but Xiangling looks dubious, dipping her chin in what can only be described as distraught submission.

Then, like the flip of a coin, the tension dissolves. Hu Tao slides out of her seat and slips in beside Xiangling, resting her forehead against the shorter girl’s shoulder. Xiangling clings to Hu Tao’s arm like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded, burying her face into her friend—no, her something more—with a palpable need for comfort.

Venti pauses, a knot forming in his chest. He doesn’t know much about their relationship—if it’s even a relationship in the romantic sense—but he’s always suspected there’s something. He’s seen the tarrying glances, the subtle touches, the kind of closeness that goes beyond mere friendship. Today seems like confirmation, though he doesn’t think it’s his place to pry.

One day, he broods. Maybe they’ll tell me. Or I’ll just ask. Either way’s fine.

His thoughts are interrupted by Kaeya’s voice from behind him. “Break’s over, Barbatos. Back on the clock.”

“Alright,” he acquiesces, shaking himself out of his daze.

Hu Tao’s voice cuts through the low hum of the shop. “Barbatos, we’re off!”

He looks up just in time to see the two girls heading for the door, Hu Tao’s arm securely around Xiangling’s waist. Xiangling’s eyes are still red, though she’s smiling now. Hu Tao keeps her gaze ahead, solidly, her usually boisterous zeal reputably tempered.

“Okay, take care! And for the love of gods, stop fighting!” Venti calls after them.

Xiangling turns her head, her voice surprisingly chipper as she shouts back, “You don’t get to decide that! We’ll have our lovers’ quarrel if we want to!”

Venti grins but stops short when he catches the flush creeping up Hu Tao’s cheeks. It’s the first time he’s ever seen Hu Tao blush, and that alone almost makes him succumb to laughter. Fascinating.

“Guess they had a misunderstanding, huh?” Fischl comments, materializing beside him with her typical uncanny timing.

Venti glances over his shoulder. Kaeya is behind the till, Noelle serving two new customers at the soft-serve station. “Yeah, looks like it,” he says, exhaling. “No idea what it was about, though. This is the first time I’ve seen them actually fight.”

Fischl places her hands on her hips, tone turning dreamy. “Ah, young love.”

Venti snorts, rolling his eyes. “You talk like you’re eighty. It’s weird.”

Fischl shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Yeah, well, at least I don’t look eighty,” she retorts with a laugh, turning back to wipe the counter and align the tissue and straw dispensers with the fidelity of a millelith drill sergeant.

“Fair point,” Venti mutters, polishing a glass.

After a pause, Fischl asks, “So, how’s Xiao?”

Venti’s fingers falter for just a second, the glass in his hand almost slipping. “Oh, he’s fine. Doing a photoshoot right now,” he replies as evenly as he can, forcing a steady breath. Internally, his heart is somersaulting like it’s auditioning for the circus.

Fischl hums, and Venti swears she sounds suspicious. “I see. And how are things with him?”

Venti chokes on air, coughing discreetly into his fist. “What are you talking about? We’re cool. Busy with academics, sharing the bills, the usual,” he croons, doing his best to appear unbothered. If this were a poker game, he’d be losing miserably.

“Okay,” Fischl punctuates slowly, her tone heavy with doubt. “If you say so.”

Venti swallows, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere. Thankfully, Fischl takes the hint.

“By the way,” she says, straightening. “We’re getting our salaries tomorrow. Mr. Draff mentioned it earlier. Have you got your card yet?”

“I have!” Venti grins, perking up at the mention of his long-awaited paycheck. “Finally! It’s about damn time. I waited forever for that stupid debit card.”

“Good!” Fischl exclaims, her grin matching his. “I’m buying myself a bird.”

“A… bird?” Venti echoes, blinking.

“Yes. A cockatiel, to be specific,” Fischl declares, full of conviction. “They’re intelligent, majestic creatures. Unlike some people I know,” she jests, shooting him a pointed look.

Venti laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Enjoy your bird. Just don’t make it your new co-worker, okay? I’d like to keep my job.”

Fischl smirks. “No promises.”

As they return to their tasks, Venti shakes his head, chuckling. Work is never dull around here.

**

Around 5 PM, Ganyu arrives at Cat’s Tail to pick up Venti, just as they’d planned via text. She mentioned needing company for a mall trip and possibly a movie, and Venti had happily accepted. Perhaps, he’ll have his me-time next week, no biggie.

After clocking out, he swaps his work uniform for the casual outfit he’d packed earlier—black jeans, a loose white tee, and a lightweight blue cardigan.

“See you all next week!” he chirps, waving to his coworkers.

“Take care, Barbatos!” Kaeya calls back with a grin dazzling enough to outshine the shop’s pastel decor.

Hooking arms with Ganyu as they stroll to the subway, Venti asks, “So, what’s on the movie docket?”

Ganyu taps her cheek with a finger, her expression thoughtful. “I haven’t decided yet. Maybe we’ll just choose something when we get there? I’m not picky.” She smiles at him, soft and sweet.

Venti can only beam, nodding. “Sounds like a plan!”

The subway ride is uneventful, save for his bouncing ideas for potential movie genres: psychological thrillers, rom-coms, and a brief pitch for an absurdly campy sci-fi flick that Ganyu vetoes immediately with a laugh. After three stops, they disembark, the bustling mall just a short walk away.

The blast of air-conditioning as they enter feels like stepping into paradise, instantly cutting through the lingering warmth of the day. First on their agenda: shopping. Ganyu mentions needing a violet dress, but this somehow snowballs into her also picking up tank tops, a couple of shirts, and a pair of shoes. After withdrawing extra cash from a joint account she shares with Xiao and Qiqi, she explains, “Just in case.”

Venti, in the mood to be a gentleman, carries most of the bags, juggling them with surprising dexterity as they grab snacks—pretzels for him, churros for her.

“Shall we?” Ganyu gestures toward the cinema after they’ve loaded up on carbs.

They settle on a psychological horror film by A24, which, true to the studio’s reputation, turns out to be equal parts phenomenal and horrifying. The first shocking scene—a decapitation during a frantic car ride—earns a shriek from Venti that could probably register on a seismograph.

“Oh, grow up,” Ganyu teases, snickering as she nudges him.

“Grow up? I’m sorry, did we not just watch someone’s head snap off like it was a cheap bobblehead?!” Venti hisses, smacking her arm in return.

Their banter elicits a chorus of hissing ‘shhh’s from other patrons, forcing them to shrink into their seats, stifling laughter. The movie’s relentless tension keeps them gripping each other’s arms, half-hiding behind their hands, gasping and jumping at every twist. By the end, they’re a jittery mess, though exhilarated.

As they emerge from the theater, Venti still clutching the popcorn bucket like a battle trophy, they chatter animatedly about the film’s best scenes, debating the symbolism of certain shots. They nearly miss seeing Mona sitting alone at a table in a restaurant nestled just outside the cinema.

“Hey, that’s—” Venti begins, pointing.

But Ganyu grabs his wrist, pinning him mid-step. Her expression alters, her usually serene features drawn tight with tension. Her gaze fixes ahead, and Venti follows it.

Keqing.

The short-haired girl from the other day is heading toward Mona’s table, her confident stride faltering only as she approaches.

“What’s she doing here?” Ganyu whispers, trembling.

Venti swallows. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence?”

But he notices Ganyu’s hands tighten around the shopping bags, her knuckles turning white. Her cheeks are flushed, lips pressed thin. Venti’s curiosity spikes because… Why is Ganyu so rattled?

Just then—

He witnesses Keqing lean down toward Mona, seemingly going in for a cheek kiss, but the other girl subtly turns her head away, facial expression pinched with discomfort. The scene brims with awkward strain, and Venti’s eyebrows shoot up. What in Teyvat is going on here?

“Let’s go, Venti,” Ganyu whispers, sharply, voice cracking as she tugs on his arm.

“Wait, Ganyu—what—”

But she’s already dragging him away, weaving through the crowded mall with determined strides. They duck behind a pillar far from the restaurant, both out of breath.

“So, it is Mona,” he hears Ganyu mutter, staring at the ground, fists clenched at her sides.

“Okay, but… what just happened? Ganyu, I’m so lost right now,” he admits gently.

She doesn’t meet his eyes when she pleads, “I’ll tell you about it later, okay? Just… please, can we go home?”

Nodding, Venti doesn’t dither to escort her out of the mall, shelving the idea of finding Klee’s gift for another day. There’s still tomorrow, after all. Right now, his focus is on Ganyu, holding her hand firmly as they head to the subway. They ride the train back to the dormitory in near silence, Ganyu clutching her shopping bags and staring at the floor. Venti doesn’t press; he knows she’ll talk when she’s ready.

When they arrive, she quietly asks if they can talk in his room—just somewhere that isn’t hers. He agrees without hesitation. If Ganyu needs someone, he’ll be that someone.

As they step into the dorm, Venti announces their arrival, more out of habit than expectation. “We’re home!”

He doesn’t expect anyone to answer, so when Xiao perks up from his spot by the fish tank, it nearly gives him a heart attack.

“Oh, you’re together,” Xiao remarks, glancing at them as he sprinkles fish food into Cecilia’s tank.

Venti bristles. Xiao, of course, looks impossibly good even in casual wear—gray sweater, joggers, silver necklace, and those stupid black piercings. He’s barefoot too, padding toward them like he’s the pinnacle of effortless chic. Venti can’t decide if he wants to hug him or scream into a pillow.

“Yeah,” Venti manages to croak, gripping Ganyu’s hand a little tighter before letting it go. “We went to the mall. Saw a movie.”

Xiao raises an eyebrow, shoving his hands into his joggers’ pockets as he nears them. “What movie?”

“Hereditary,” Ganyu answers too quickly, her voice shaky.

Venti mentally winces. If anyone can spot cracks in a story, it’s Xiao.

Xiao tilts his head, thoughtful. “Ah, the horror film. How was it—”

“No time for chit-chat!” Venti interrupts, lightly nudging Ganyu toward his room. “Ganyu, go. Now.”

She nods sheepishly at her brother. “Sorry, ge. Venti and I need to discuss something.”

Xiao looks puzzled. “About what?”

“Just… girl talk,” Venti reasons, plastering on what he hopes is his most convincing grin. Gods, please let this work.

He starts marching toward his room before Xiao can question him further. But of course, the guy isn’t one to let things go so easily. He grabs Venti’s arm, pulling him back.

“What’s going on, Venti?” Xiao’s eyes bore into his, the concern in his voice both maddening and endearing.

Venti’s heart leaps into his throat, but he keeps calm. “It’s a private matter,” he almost whispers, carefully taking Xiao’s hand off him. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready. Stop prying, you meddling old man.”

Xiao stares at him for all of five seconds before sighing. “Fine,” he relents, stepping back. “Just… let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, Xiao,” Venti says, offering him a genuine smile before retreating to his room.

Ganyu is already seated on his bed, head bowed, shopping bags at her feet. As he shuts the door behind him, he catches a glimpse of Xiao watching from across the living room, looking nervous.

Gosh, he’s such a worrywart.

Turning back to Ganyu, Venti clears his desk, shoving stray papers into a drawer before flopping into his chair and swiveling to face her. His stomach tightens when he sees her red-rimmed eyes.

“Ganyu—”

“What we saw just now…” she starts, her voice breaking as she looks up at him. “Keqing told me she had… someone. She never said they were together, but… they’ve slept together. A lot. But it’s not a real relationship.”

Venti blinks, trying to process the words. “Oh.” Then it clicks. “Oh… So, Mona and Keqing are… fuck buddies?”

Ganyu sniffles. “I didn’t expect this… fuck,” she swears, brokenly. It’s the first time Venti’s ever heard her swear. “She could’ve just told me!”

“What’s… what’s up with you and Keqing, anyway?” Venti asks quietly, carefully. He’s walking on eggshells here, trying to be gentle.

“Keqing and I…” Ganyu pauses, locking eyes with him. She takes a shaky breath. “We’ve been having sex.”

Venti’s jaw drops. Not a little, not a polite ‘oh’ of understanding—but a full-on gape, wide enough to swallow his own surprise. “I—wow,” he breathes out, trying to digest this bombshell.

Ganyu rolls her eyes and looks up at the ceiling, probably in an effort to stop the tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah. Behind everyone’s back. And like the idiot I am, I thought it was more than that. I thought we were slowly building toward something real, like a proper relationship. Turns out I’m just another one of her fuck buddies—like Mona, apparently. Gods, I’m so fucking dumb!”

“Hey, no,” Venti rushes to soothe, frowning. “Hey, Ganyu, it’s not your fault.”

He stands from the chair and sits beside her on the bed. The mattress dips under his weight, and Ganyu instantly leans into him, finally letting the tears fall.

“Sshh,” he lulls, rubbing her arm. “Stop blaming yourself, okay? None of this is your fault.”

“I know I shouldn’t have expected anything,” Ganyu sobs. “We both agreed there’d be no strings attached. But… it still hurts. Seeing her with someone else, meeting another girl like that… It just hurts.”

Venti nods, keeping silent to let her talk.

“Before I asked you to come with me to the mall today,” she tacks on, quivering, “I asked Keqing to come. And she… she lied. Said she had something for school.” Her voice breaks again, and she chokes out a shaky laugh. “Gods, I’ve never felt so betrayed in my life. And the worst part? She didn’t even owe me anything. Not honesty, not loyalty—we’re not even dating.”

Venti’s chest tightens. “Ganyu…”

She cries tacitly against his shoulder, and he has no other option but to wrap an arm around her, holding her closer as though he can shield her from the pain.

“I don’t know what to say, love…” he murmurs, honestly, feeling completely inadequate in the face of her heartbreak.

“That’s fine, Venti,” she whispers, sniffling again. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just… thankful you’re here.”

Her gratitude makes Venti tighten his hold on her. She’s so composed most of the time, so strong. Seeing her like this feels wrong like the world is out of balance.

It takes a while, but her sobs subside in the end, and she pulls away, wiping at her tear-streaked cheeks, sighing.

“This is why Keqing cut her hair short,” she says, voice steadier now but still thick with emotion. “She said she got hurt and wanted to change something—said it was part of her ‘moving on’ process.”

“So it’s Mona who hurt her,” Venti murmurs, putting the pieces together.

“Seems like it,” Ganyu agrees with a nod. “She used to have long, beautiful hair, you know? To think she’d cut it so drastically… it must mean Mona was someone really important to her. She must’ve loved her so much.”

“Shit,” Venti curses, grimacing as he looks down at his hands. He doesn’t know how to take this. Mona is one of his closest friends—one of the brightest in their group. They’ve known her for a year, and he’s always admired her fiery spirit and no-nonsense attitude. …What is he supposed to do now?

Almost as if she’s reading his mind, Ganyu tells him, “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to avoid Mona because of me,” Ganyu continues, shaking her head. “I’m not avoiding her either. They must have their reasons for… whatever this is. I’ll talk to Keqing on Monday. Get the whole story.”

Venti nods, slowly, meeting her gaze. “Alright. I hope… I hope it goes well.”

“Me too.” Ganyu scoots away, standing and collecting her shopping bags. “Venti, thank you. For listening. And for not making me feel… bad about hiding this.”

Venti looks up at her. “You haven’t told Xiao, have you?”

“No.” Ganyu shakes her head, biting her lip. “I didn’t want to. Not yet. Not until it was official between me and… that girl.”

“I see. I understand, Ganyu…” Venti murmurs, softly but sincerely. And he does. Oh, Archons, does he. He’s memorized Xiao’s habits and temperament like the sheet music for a difficult recital piece. The guy would shut down the entire idea of his sister engaging in a ‘friends with benefits, no strings attached’ companionship before she even finished the sentence. Hell, Venti could practically hear his reaction already: “My sister? Absolutely not.”

Nope. Ganyu admitting this to her overly concerned, fiercely protective brother? Respectfully, not in a million years.

The girl loiters by the door, her hand tightening on the knob. She takes a steadying breath, shoulders rising and falling before she turns to Venti with a pleading look.

“Please… don’t let him see me like this,” she whispers, fragile cadence and all yet firm enough to reach his ears.

“Of course,” Venti says instantly, springing off the bed as if on cue. He crosses the room and nudges her aside, slipping out first.

The first thing he does is scan the living room, spotting Xiao seated on the sofa, polishing the lens of his camera, unsuspecting. Then he looks up the moment he hears the door creak open. “So you did need something,” he says, arching an eyebrow.

Venti blinks, scrambling for an excuse. “Yeah, um… we need—” He glances around for inspiration and spills, “Socks. We need socks.”

Xiao’s brow arches higher. “Socks?”

“Yes, socks. Yours, specifically.” Venti nods, doing his best to look serious.

Xiao sets the camera down with a quiet sigh. “Fine.” He rises from the couch and without another word, disappears into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Once Xiao is out of sight, Venti spins on his heel and waves at Ganyu, frantically, who is still hovering behind the bedroom door. “Coast is clear!”

Ganyu wastes no time. She darts out of the room, footsteps light and fast as she makes a beeline for the front door. She pauses only briefly, mouthing a silent thank you to Venti, before slipping out into the hallway and vanishing from sight.

Just in time, too. The door to Xiao’s room opens, and he reemerges holding a neatly folded pair of socks.

Venti throws on his best totally normal and not suspicious at all face. “You took too long,” he scoffs with a nonchalant shrug, stepping aside to let Xiao pass. “Ganyu already left. I just gave her my socks instead.”

Xiao pauses, brows knitting together. Then, with a soft “Ah,” he nods and lets it go.

He tosses the socks into the air as if to dismiss the matter entirely, catching them lazily with one hand before shaking his head with the faintest hint of a smile. It’s an innocent, almost boyish expression, one that tugs unexpectedly at Venti’s chest.

As Xiao returns to his seat, Venti watches him for a moment longer, a wistful smile playing on his lips.

Maybe one day, Xiao… she’ll let you in on the matter. But for now, let her handle it on her own.

With a quiet sigh, Venti retreats to his room, closing the door behind him. He pauses mid-step as a thought strikes him, sending a shiver up his spine.

No wonder Scaramouche found Mona that night, drunk off her jest…

It clicks now, doesn’t it? Like a final puzzle piece snapping into place. The tangled web of emotions and misunderstandings makes sense, painfully so.

**

True to his word, Venti heads back to the mall the next day to get a gift for Klee. At eleven, she’s probably starting to outgrow toys, so he settles on something more age-appropriate: a cute new outfit and a Totoro-themed hat. He knows how much Klee loves her hats—he’s seen her wear what feels like a hundred different ones over the times they’ve spent together. The gray-and-indigo blend of this particular hat is adorable, and he can already picture her blonde hair peeking out from under it, her face glimmering with that contagious grin of hers. The thought alone has Venti smiling like an idiot as he heads to the grocery store on the ground floor.

With a cart in hand, he meanders down the aisles, tossing in essentials for the week alongside a few indulgences. He even picks up a pack of noodles boasting exotic flavors he’s only just discovered. Thank the heavens for payday—Cat’s Tail’s payout might not be groundbreaking, but it’s enough to make these moments feel indulgent.

He turns a corner, muttering, “Excuse me,” as he navigates the cereal aisle.

“Oh, go ahead. Sorry,” comes the response.

Venti barely registers it until the voice’s owner calls out, “Venti?”

He stops mid-turn, blinking. “S-Scaramouche?” Well, speak of the devil and his laundry detergent.

Scaramouche stands there holding a shopping basket filled… entirely with soap.

Unable to stop, Venti gestures toward the basket, a grin forming on his lips. “Laundry day?”

“Yeah,” Scaramouche replies evenly, albeit his tone is laced with challenge.

Venti bites his lip, the sight of that basket amusing him far more than it should. “I didn’t peg you as the hand-washing type. What’s next? Knitting scarves and baking bread?”

The other boy raises a brow, one hand settling on his hip. “I find it relaxing,” he grouses simply, with a shrug so casual that Venti almost feels bad for teasing.

Almost.

“Fair enough. Respect,” Venti says, giving him a small nod of approval. “Anyway, I should—” He motions toward his cart, which is already looking a little overstuffed, and starts to wheel it away.

But Scaramouche, to his surprise, falls into step beside him.

“Need anything?” he quips, quirking a brow as he tosses a box of Honey Stars into the cart.

“No,” Scaramouche says, almost absentmindedly. “I just thought I’d keep you company. You know, since I’m done with my own shopping.”

Venti hums, then shrugs. “Sure. Be my guest.”

And so they roam the aisles together, Venti finding himself rethinking his assumptions about Scaramouche. Based on their first meeting—where the guy had teased Mona mercilessly—Venti had pegged him as a snarky, spoiled rich kid, the kind who’d rather skate at a park all day and laugh at someone falling off their bike than do something as mundane as hand-wash clothes or shop for groceries.

But here he is, casually pushing a cart alongside Venti, tossing out genuinely helpful suggestions for brands of noodles and condiments. It’s oddly… homely.

Venti chances a peek at Scaramouche, who’s scanning the shelves with a mild, relaxed expression. Maybe I judged him too quickly.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Venti blurts after a stretch of silence.

“Am I?” Scaramouche muses, glancing over. “I mean, I usually am. Not much to say.”

“Fair enough.”

They continue their little detour, chatting here and there as Venti navigates the aisles, chucking in some milk cartons, bags of rice, and the occasional snack that catches his eye. At some point, he grabs a jar of peanut butter, and Scaramouche croons his assent, apparently a fan of the brand.

“So, did you just transfer to our college?” Venti asks, trying to place him.

Scaramouche shakes his head. “No. If you’re asking why we only just met, it’s because I don’t hang around much. I stick to myself, mostly. Well, except for Xiao and a few others. Otherwise, I’m home as soon as classes are over.”

“Oh, I guess that explains it,” Venti drones, tossing a bottle of pepper into his cart. “And, this is your second year too.”

“Uh-huh. Photography isn’t really my thing,” the guy admits, candidly. “But a lot of my friends have built successful careers with it, so I thought, why not? Besides, I’ve been told I’m pretty good at capturing moments and all that.”

“Might I ask who told you that?” Venti inquires, an eyebrow quirking upward as he nudges Scaramouche with his elbow, fishing for something to tease him with.

The guy hums thoughtfully. “Signora and Dottore, my childhood friends, for starters. My mom said so too, and…” He pauses, tutting as he digs through his mental archives. Then, with a snap of his fingers, he adds, “Oh, right. Xiao.”

“You’re close with Xiao, aren’t you?” Venti pries, nudging him again for good measure.

“Kind of,” Scaramouche utters, his tone casual—too casual. Then his gaze strops as he transfers his full attention to Venti. His lips curl into a smirk before he asks, “Why? You in love with him?”

And, what? Venti screeches to a halt. Abruptly. Thoroughly. Did he just—?

“Are you dumb?” is all Venti can manage, his voice louder than intended, the tips of his ears burning.

Scaramouche blinks, clearly unbothered, then dissolves into a cackle, clutching his stomach as he bends forward. “Holy shit, the look on your face—priceless.”

Annoyed and utterly mortified, Venti mutters something unintelligible under his breath and bolts down the aisle, pushing his cart faster than necessary. Damn it, Scaramouche! His cheeks are practically on fire, and he can already feel his palms starting to sweat.

“Hey, wait up!” Scaramouche calls after him, still laughing like a maniac, but Venti keeps moving, weaving through aisles like he’s running from his doom.

And then he crashes into someone.

The cart slams into the person’s side, forcing them to stumble backward with a grunt.

“What the—?”

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Venti rambles, bowing his head instinctively.

“Clumsy as always,” the person says coolly, and Venti’s stomach twists because of course.

“Xiao,” Scaramouche drawls as he finally catches up, delight lacing his voice. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Venti’s eyes snap up, and yep, there’s Xiao, looking effortlessly composed despite just being nearly run over. His dandelion gaze flickers between Venti and Scaramouche. “You two grocery shopping together?”

“No!” Venti squeaks, too quick to answer. Clearing his throat, he tries again, forcing some calm into his tone. “We just bumped into each other. Total coincidence.” Why is he even explaining, so anxiously?

“True,” Scaramouche adds, shrugging as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “In fact, I don’t even have his number—sooo, I say, let’s fix that!” He shoves the device toward Venti, who sighs in resignation and takes it, entering his number.

As Venti types, he can feel Xiao’s eyes on him. Not a peep. Not a passing look. No, Xiao’s gaze is drilling into his very soul, and Venti can’t decide if he wants to burst into laughter or melt into the floor.

“Here,” he mumbles, shoving the phone back into Scaramouche’s hand before mustering the courage to glance at Xiao.

Xiao isn’t paying attention to Scaramouche anymore; rather he’s staring at his phone now, his thumb scrolling across the screen.

Oh, great. He’s texting. Totally uninterested in whatever this is.

Venti turns his attention to the other two people with Xiao: Kazuha and Aether.

“Barbatos, hi!” Aether chirps, waving cheerfully.

“Hi, Aether,” Venti greets back, forcing a smile.

Kazuha offers a soft smile of his own, the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks. Meanwhile, Xiao’s phone buzzes with an incoming call, and he steps aside to answer it, turning his back to the group.

That’s when Venti’s brain decides to betray him. Again. Because now that Xiao isn’t looking, he lets his eyes wander. On him.

The guy’s wearing a dark green varsity jacket with the letter ‘A’ stitched on the chest—Alatus, of course—paired with a simple black V-neck and black ripped skinny jeans. His Adidas sneakers are the same vibrant green as his jacket. And—Archons help him—his hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, teal strands swaying gently as he tilts his head to listen to whoever’s on the other end of the call, and, fuck, why… Why does he have to look this good all the time? Venti sighs heavily, slumping against his cart because he is so cursed for life. Oh, to have a ridiculously hot best friend who’s also oblivious to your feelings. Truly, this is my punishment for all the times I ‘borrowed’ apples from Diluc’s tavern.

“You’re drooling, Venti.”

“I am not,” he retorts, indignantly wiping at his mouth just in case. Scaramouche answers with a chuckle and, without warning, pinches Venti’s cheek. Venti hisses, trying to swat him away. “Stop it, you weirdo!”

“You’re so cute, you know?” the guy smirks, murmuring his next words just enough to make Venti pause, “I think I might be starting to like you.”

Venti’s eyes widen. “What—” Wait, is he serious? Is he messing with me? What’s going on?

“Venti,” Xiao’s voice cuts through, smooth but with a hint of irritation, and Venti swivels toward him like he’s been caught red-handed.

“Eh?”

Xiao jerks his chin toward the cart. “Why are you buying so many?”

Venti blinks down at it, and realizes, Oh. Right. The cart that I filled to the brim like I was preparing for the apocalypse. “B-because I thought we needed this much?” he stammers, voice rising an octave.

“We don’t,” Xiao replies bluntly, already moving to take control of the cart. He nudges Venti aside and touches delicately (but unwaveringly), prying Venti’s hands off the handle like a parent dealing with a wayward child. “You’re wasting money—and fridge space. Half of this will rot before you remember we bought it.”

Venti’s too stunned to respond straight away, standing rooted as Xiao wheels the cart down the aisle, muttering something under his breath about oyster sauce overload. When he snaps out of it, his first instinct is to run after Xiao. Never mind Scaramouche’s maybe serious, maybe not confession. Xiao has just commandeered his groceries, and that takes precedence.

“Xiao! Wait! I’m sorry!” Venti calls, catching up as Xiao begins returning random items to their respective shelves. He’s already sliding two bottles of oyster sauce back into place—on the wrong rack, no less.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he submits, panting a little as he skids to a stop beside Xiao. “I’m really sorry, okay? I just thought we’d need a lot for the week.”

Xiao shoots him a sidelong glance, clicking his tongue. “Too much,” he mutters, putting a bag of flour back onto a shelf labeled for rice. “You don’t think things through sometimes.”

The way Xiao says it isn’t exactly harsh, but it makes Venti feel like a kicked puppy. His lips wobble slightly as he mumbles, “That’s a gift, by the way,” when Xiao’s hand brushes the bag containing Klee’s present.

“For?”

“Klee.”

Xiao pauses, leaving the bag alone, before he resumes reorganizing the cart. Aether, Kazuha, and Scaramouche rejoin them at that moment, their gazes making Venti acutely aware of how much of a scene he’s probably making.

“What are you doing here, Xiao? I thought you had an appointment,” Venti mumbles, head dipping in shame.

“Just finished,” Xiao replies tersely.

Venti nods, sticking close to the guy’s side as he trails behind him. “Look, Xiao, I’m really sorry. I thought I was being helpful.”

Xiao stops pushing the cart and turns to face him with a sigh. For a moment, Venti braces for another scolding. Instead, Xiao raises a hand and pats him twice on the head.

“Fine,” Xiao says simply, his tone softening.

The touch is brief—too brief—but Venti feels his heart leap into his throat. He grins, warmth spreading through his chest as he follows Xiao like an overexcited duckling. Maybe, just maybe, Xiao loves him too, huh? Wishful thinking, Barbatos. Keep dreaming.

Feigning guilt (just because), Venti starts to pout again.

“Stop doing that,” Xiao mutters without looking at him. “You look ugly.”

“E-eh?!” Venti sputters, glaring at him. “No, you!”

Xiao scoffs, grabbing a box of strawberry milk from the fridge section. “You.”

“No, you,” Venti huffs, sticking his tongue out.

In a flash, Xiao’s arm loops around his head, pulling him into a playful headlock. Xiao musses his hair and pinches his cheek hard enough to make him yelp.

“Xiaooo!” he shrieks, squirming to break free, but Xiao only lets him go after a moment, laughing softly.

“You’re such a jerk!” he whines, smoothing his disheveled hair down.

Xiao’s rare laugh lingers in the air, and Venti can’t bring himself to be annoyed further. Instead, he folds his arms and pretends to sulk, at least, earning an eye roll from his best friend.

Ugh.

After checking out and paying for their groceries, Scaramouche, Aether, and Kazuha part ways with them. Not before Scaramouche leans in to whisper, “I’ll text you later,” his breath ghosting over Venti’s ear.

Venti nods, cheeks burning as he salutes Scaramouche with two fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Xiao watching the exchange, and—was that a twitch of his jaw?

Whatever. He dismisses it with a shake of his head, bidding the others goodbye.

Before they leave the mall, Xiao surprises him by buying him fries and a Coke float. “For your effort,” the guy elaborates, handing over the tray.

Munching on fries like they’re the most divine food ever created, Venti walks next to Xiao, his earlier embarrassment fading into a warm, contented haze. The guy might scold him a lot, but moments like these remind him why he can never let go. Can never let him go…

Because Xiao, for all his stoicism, is still the sweetest jerk Venti knows.

**

Xiao stares at the letter in his hand, knuckles blanching as his grip tightens. His sharp gaze is locked on the page as if willing it to combust. “That’s it, Venti. We’re calling the cops.”

The words hit Venti like a slap, leaving his mouth agape and his thoughts scrambling. He watches as Xiao gathers the grocery bags from the ground, promptly, and stalks toward the stairs leading to their dorm. The door slams shut behind him, shaking the frame.

“Xiao!” Venti calls as he bursts through the door after him. “What for?”

Xiao whips around the vigor in his glare freezing Venti in place. “If these letters don’t stop coming, I’m reporting this stalker to the police. End of story.”

“E-eh?” Venti’s voice rises, gesturing wildly in protest. “Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

“Extreme?” Xiao’s scoff is a whip crack in the air. He points the crumpled letter at Venti like an accusation. “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t some lovestruck admirer leaving you flowers. It’s a stalker, someone who knows too much and won’t leave you alone.”

“But they’re harmless!” Venti ends up yelling, trying to reach for the paper—

—But Xiao yanks his hand away, holding it high above Venti’s reach. His somewhat taller frame due to his shoes, partnered with his athletic agility, makes it a losing game, but Venti tries anyway, standing on his toes and swiping for the letter.

“Give it to me!”

“No.” Xiao’s voice is a growl, his posture stiff as he stares down at Venti.

They’re close all of a sudden—far too close for comfort. Nose to nose, almost breathing each other’s air. For a fleeting second, Venti notices the pink flush crawling up Xiao’s neck and the faint twitch of his lips. But the moment shatters like glass. Xiao shoves the letter into his pocket and takes a deliberate step back, clearing his throat.

“You… You need to take this seriously.”

“You need to stop being so overbearing!” Venti snaps, raising his voice as he throws his hands in the air.

Xiao freezes, and something changes in his expression—an unspoken boundary crossed. His shoulders square, face hardening, and when he speaks, his tone is icy. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Venti stares, blindsided. “What?”

“You love the attention.” Xiao’s accusation lands with venom, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you don’t care. You like the idea that someone out there is so obsessed with you, that they’re willing to leave letters like this. You eat it up.”

“Excuse me?” Venti’s voice shakes with both fury and disbelief.

“You heard me.” Xiao’s jaw tightens, astute bearing boring into Venti’s like daggers. “You’re selfish. You care more about your ego than your safety—or mine.”

The words sting worse than Venti expects. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, fingers curling into fists. “That’s—that’s bullshit!”

“Is it?” Xiao steps closer, his presence suffocating. “Face it, Venti. You don’t want them to stop.”

“And what about you?” Venti shouts, his own voice cracking now. “What’s your problem, huh? Are you jealous? Is that it?”

Faltering for a split second, Xiao’s composure slips, but it returns with a vengeance. He sneers, mockingly. “In your dreams, Barbatos.”

The nickname feels like a punch. Venti’s vision blurs, and he knows tears are threatening to spill. He hates this. Hates fighting with Xiao… He hates the sharpness in his tone and the venom in his words. It stings.

“Fine!” Venti shouts, pacing in frustration. His movements are wild, he knows, becoming frenzied, a reflection of the storm inside him. “You want me to admit it? Fine! I like the attention. So what? What does it matter to you?”

“It matters because they know where we live!” Xiao’s voice is louder now, uncharacteristically raw. “They know everything about you. Your routines, your habits—hell, probably even your damn shoe size!”

“So what if they do?!” Venti whirls on him, chest heaving. “You think it’s one of our friends, don’t you? Maybe it is! Maybe it’s someone I see every day!”

“Like who? Scaramouche? Albedo?” Xiao’s hands ball into fists, brows knitted. He’s angry.

And, Venti, he… he just— “I don’t know!”

“Exactly!” Xiao’s yell echoes through the room like a thunderclap. “You don’t know, Venti, because no one knows you better than I do!”

The room falls deathly silent. And it’s like a bucket of ice has been dumped over Venti’s head.

He stares at Xiao, the weight of his words pressing on his chest like a stone. His lips tremble as he takes a step back. “You… you don’t know me, Xiao.”

The hurt in his voice is palpable, and it’s enough to make the other waver, his rage dimming for a fraction of a second. “Venti, I didn’t mean—”

But Venti doesn’t let him finish.

“No. …You don’t know me, Xiao. Not like you think you do.”

Without another word, Venti turns on his heel and storms out of the dorm. The door slams shut behind him, rattling the walls. Xiao calls after him, desperately, but Venti doesn’t stop.

The night air bites at his skin as he sprints down the empty street, the traces of their fight playing over and over in his mind. Tears blur his vision, and his chest feels tight, as if the world itself is caving in on him.

It sucks, but he thinks he’ll spend the night somewhere else for now. Until then, he’s not letting Xiao hear a word from him.

[violetsandfluff]

Lucid Dreaming

a/n: I’m soooo sorry this has taken forever! I hope you’re still around

wc: 1.4k

The line between friends and acquaintances was always foggy. At what point did someone go from being a casual encounter to a bosom friend? Some people seem to radiate a type of energy immediately recognizable as “friend energy,” and Shawn was one of those people for you. His gorgeous smile and contagious laugh made him enjoyable to be around, you couldn’t help it. Even if you had only met him briefly here and there, you couldn’t help but refer to him as your friend behind closed doors.

Everyone around him loved him, understandably, and it wasn’t as if they could prevent it. He was unconditionally outgoing, always ready to listen or laugh. When he talked to you, he made eye contact like you were the only thing in the world. He never failed to make you feel special, but then again, he treated everyone like that. Occasionally, (more often than not), it made you jealous to see him with anyone else but he hardly knew you. What could you expect?

“Someone’s jealous,” your best friend would tease whenever she caught you staring at him forlornly, eyes green with envy.

“I’m not jealous,” you would protest. “I don’t even know him.”

It was true that you had only been on the receiving end of his undying attention a handful of times, but you felt like the entire world rested on those moments. He haunted your dreams with his gorgeous honey-brown eyes and adorable curls, his rosy cheeks, and his uplifting, luminous smile. His lush pink lips always accompanied these dreams, along with his pearly teeth, perfectly defined abs, and smooth, able hands, which had a habit of snaking up your thighs when you least expected them.

Occasionally, he managed to lose his illustrious demeanor in your dreams, appearing as either a frat boy or an affectionate boyfriend, but he was the same Shawn both ways, the one you barely knew, yet couldn’t live without.

Almost as a survival instinct, your dreams began coming true.

One day, you ran into him at a grocery store. Miraculously, you ended up behind him in line, close enough to smell the faint, masculine scent etched into the air. He was dressed in skinny black jeans and a simple white t-shirt, accentuating his broad back and muscular shoulders. His hair was arranged in a perfect mass of curls atop his head, and you couldn’t help but admire it… until he turned around to meet you.

His dark eyebrows raised in surprise as he recognized you, and you couldn’t pull your skittish eyes from his warm, welcoming ones. Just as he opened his mouth to speak to you, the woman in front of him in line finished checking out. He turned away without a word and, once you had finished checking out, he was gone.

He was such a curse. The mere thought of him plagued your mind, making it all but impossible to concentrate on anything. Any encounter with him had you fucked for weeks; dreaming about him at night, during the day, and every moment in between.

One night, you dreamed about seeing him at the beach.

The ocean spanned endlessly before you, wafting its warm, salty breeze toward you tantalizingly. You were alone, dressed in an emerald green swimsuit that accentuated your body perfectly. A layer of sunscreen on top of your newly-tanned skin made you glow in the sunlight. Your hair was tossed carelessly into a messy bun atop your head, along with a pair of sunglasses you didn’t plan on wearing.

You laid your towel down on the sand a few yards away from the beach access and assessed your surroundings. A large group of people was congregated about waist-deep in the water, but one man, in particular, caught your attention. He was tall and muscular, his back tanned by the sun, and his helmet of curls dripping wet with saltwater.

Part of you wanted to believe this someone was Shawn. As nonchalantly as you could, you began creeping slowly closer, pretending to snap pictures of the horizon as you waded into the crystal-clear waters.

A water fight broke out among the group, and the man ducked towards you, laughing, to escape a blow from a beer can now filled with water. Your breath caught in your throat as you caught a glimpse of his face, but you couldn’t tell whether or not it was him.

He visibly noticed you, his hazel eyes fixed on you, and your heart caught in your throat. As soon as it started, however, his attention returned to the water fight.

Another night, you dreamed that you met him, suddenly an attractive bartender, at a club. And yet another night, he brought you home with him from the same club. He laid you in his bed beside him for the night, lying down himself as far away from you as he could to give you respectful space.

Before he knew it, however, you were in his arms with your face buried in his bare chest as you breathed in his scent and traced the contour of his arms, which laid in stark tan contrast against the immaculate white sheets. Your fingers roamed his unclothed upper body, tracing his intricate tattoos meticulously while he fussed over your hair.

“You can’t go to sleep with it down,” he reasoned as you fought his arms in order to trace his guitar skyline tattoo. “It’ll get all tangled and knotty. If you’ll let me braid it, it’ll be smooth and wavy when you wake up. It won’t take forever, I promise.”

“Can you do it later?” you bargained as your hands ventured to his pecs once more to feel the hard muscles move beneath your palms as he rolled over to face you.

“It’s past midnight already, darling. Don’t you think sleep should be a priority?”

“No,” you stated blankly, mulling the situation over in your head before adding, “but I will let you braid my hair.”

Shawn’s fingers made quick work of weaving your hair into two broad French braids. He admired his work once he was done.

“It’s about bedtime now, don’t you think?” he asked sheepishly, to your dismay.

“Please, let me finish tracing your tattoos,” you pleaded, reaching for his hand and clutching it to your chest.

“Finish the swallow and we can go to sleep,” he compromised. “You can finish in the morning. You’re much drunker than I am, but we could both use the rest.”

It was true that you were exhausted at that moment, longing to curl up against your hookup’s chest and melt into him as your world dissolved into that of a dream. The temptation overcame you. You lost yourself in his comforting warmth as his hands caressed your back steadily. His chest rose and fell beside you, creating a rhythm that lulled you to sleep.

Your subconscious made you feel safe and secure encompassed in Shawn’s strong arms, and beside his broad, muscular chest. When you awoke in the morning, feeling rejuvenated and chipper, you reached for him as you had done every morning you’d woken up beside him. Something was different, though.

Shawn was nowhere to be found.

You opened your eyes to see your own familiar bed, in your own familiar bedroom, and the same familiar sunlight streaming through your sheer curtains.

A dissatisfied puff of air escaped your lips as you tried to recall the dream, now hazy in your mind. All you could think about was Shawn, and how the truth was that he could be anywhere with anyone right then, and you had no say in it. Your dream world could be some lucky person’s reality, and you would never know.

A tear of frustration slipped from your tear line down your cheek, but before you could wipe it away, a smooth, low voice cut through your silence.

“I didn’t know you were still here.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just thought you’d gone home.” You felt the side of the bed dip as he sat down on it, rolling onto his side and perching his chin on your shoulder. He moved his large hands to your hips, holding them tightly as he kissed your cheek. His pink lips were smooth and consoling against your skin.

You allowed them to roam freely across your face and travel down your neck and shoulders, left exposed by a skimpy spaghetti-strap tank top. His fingers ran down your arms delicately, conditioned and calloused by his guitar strings. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch.

“Oh, look at you,” he hummed, pleasantly surprised by the slick, moist coating in your panties upon further inspection. “All it takes is for me to leave, hm? Tell me, dear. What were you up to while I was gone?”

taglist: @chocochipcookie305 @butlerbliss @fishingirl12 @monikamendes @sonder444

[rmu-vincent]

Mister Edgeworth,

Hello! I hope you've been well and that your studies have been manageable.

Seeing your fondness for cats as well as others sharing pictures of their cats has inspired me to show my own (also pictured in my blog profile picture)! This is my cat, Clover (I named her this for her green eyes).

I have had her for many years now; I believe she will be reaching seven or eight years soon. Clover was the runt of her litter and the last to be given away, and she took a very, *very* long time to become friendly with me. My patience has been rewarded, though, because she has become quite clingy and sleeps with me many nights (In fact, as I type this, she is currently curled up next to me). I love her very much... although, she can be quite cruel at times, despite being pictured in the images attached as so very unassuming...

I hope you don't mind the ramble, and that this message didn't take much of your time to read. Here is my favorite image I've taken of her:

Thank you for reading.

Regards, Shay

P.S, Do you have a favorite cat breed? Coat color? Pattern?

Dear Mx Shay,

There is no need for you to even consider the hypothetical scenario in which I am annoyed or displeased with your message. Time spent reading a polite, considerate letter is never wasted.

As for Clover, I find her to be an adorable and distinguished madame. The name suits her perfectly: she looks youthful and carefree despite her age, and I would believe myself to be quite lucky if I had such a feline friend. The pictures you attached to your message are lovely, it is understandable why you chose them in particular: Clover is stunning on them.

To answer your question regarding my favourite breed of cats, I have to note that I love all felines, no matter their fur colour or ancestry. Every cat has its own character, and every coat pattern is unique. There are graceful black cats that have that celestial glow to them whenever the sun touches them; there are sweet calico kittens that radiate energy and delicate aventurousness; there are glorious white cats that may seem arrognat at first but are the softest after you get to know them.

I send you and Clover my best wishes; you two are blessed to have companions such as each other.

Best regards,

Vincent Edgeworth

[ocarina-overture]

Luminary

< bonus chapter here >

/ˈlo͞oməˌnerē/ - A person who inspires or influences others, especially one prominent in a particular sphere. / A natural light-giving body, especially the sun or moon.

to kick off my writing posts, which were encouraged by the poll, here is a stylized telling of kishin's initial meeting with link. the piece is written from his point of view in the mask, upon gaining consciousness after his dormant phase as a mask. i wrote this to explore perspectives a bit more, but also because i really like the moon interior bit of the game.

anyways, hopefully i proofread this one alright! i'm really not much of a skilled writer and just do so as a hobby, so please feel free to correct any issues you happen to see. thank you and enjoy!

Tiny, calloused hands.

Hands of the living.

Something is chiming. Light dust falls upon me, and is delicately shaken off. I can feel it. I can hear it. Something radiates from these hands… but what? It is an energy I have not felt in a long time, but I am certain I have been bathed in it once before.

“So… you’ll play with me?” 

Play?

“We will,”

We?

“Yeah, we promise. Just a bit longer, ok?”

“Alright, then, mister bad guy.”

Ah.

I see it now, no longer blinded by the golden light of the sun. How unfortunate that my newest sight of it pains me so. ‘We’ stand atop a verdant hill, the greenery stretching out in all directions beneath us. The sky above is a vast expanse of blue, decorated by clouds. Though I do not feel wind, they are moving.

At the very crest of the hill before us stands a solitary tree, its branches reaching skyward. The wood appears pristine. Untouched by the ravages of time or the hands of man. 

That is not a detail I wish to consider any longer.

I am held by a boy. A boy? Majora has lent me to a boy? He is not a Terminian. He is a child of Hylia’s. Where am I? She would not have allowed me into her land. Not in this condition. Not from Majora’s hands would She take me, even if I was still alive. I understand. She has a duty.

The boy, no more than even twelve years of age, moves with a nimbleness that entirely belies his youth. He takes a few cautious steps back, parting from the other ‘child’ before him and retreats to the opposite side of the tree. He slumps down with a sigh. 

But he is not alone. A vexing little fairy flits about him, its wings a blur of motion as it buzzes incessantly in his ear.

“Link,” His name? “You shouldn’t use that one! What if it’s a trap? It’s all gross, it’s rotting, and… it looks so dark. If Majora had it, then… could it be just like him? Worse?”

I see Majora is still as much of a fatuous, deceitful thing as it has always been, then.

The boy sets me down on the grass with gentle hands, even courteous enough to let me gaze at our surroundings. He is pure-hearted, to care so delicately for something like myself.

“Tatl,” I cannot discern if that is an insult or her name. Is he referring to her as a tattle? She seems the type. “I gave up every other mask I had for this one. I had to go through challenge after challenge… and if I know anything after all this, it’s that an item I needed to work for is worth my time. And crazy good!” 

So that is how he obtained me? By challenge?

His speech flows with a fluency that is abnormal for one so young. I wish I could decipher more of what he is saying…

This boy is no ordinary one. 

He is too… gentle for his age. Careful, so unwilling to cause any more damage than needed.

His clothing, a simple tunic, is a patchwork of green and tan fabrics, evidence of repairs made with care and skill beyond what might be expected of such a youth. I assume such had been done by his mother.

A fresh nick in his ear hints at past mishaps, while the scuffs and scars that mar his form paint tales of adventures undertaken and many challenges overcome. He appears to be a warrior - although, one in poor care.

I sense he has lived well beyond his own years.

Yet, there is still light in those eyes.

“What if it’s tricking you? You’ll never know!”

“Exactly. I’ll never know, until I put it on.”

The two bicker on. She warns, he rationalizes. If not for their obvious differences, I would have assumed they were siblings.

Despite his calm tone, the boy's nerves are humming beneath the surface, and they would be just out of reach to the casual observer. His movements, however, betray his inner turmoil. 

At first, his fingers search for a distraction in the blades of grass, plucking at them and twisting them as if handling the very threads of his anxiety. Then, his hands shift to his gauntlets, his fingers tracing over the cold leather, feeling for imperfections that do not exist. His hair, already perfectly styled, is yet another victim to his restless hands, strands rearranged with unnecessary precision. 

It is a ritual of sorts, a futile attempt to regain control for a mind spinning in worry.

I find myself humming, though I know he cannot hear me. It’s like watching myself. To self-regulate is all I have known for a very long time. It is all I remember, the only thing that anchors reality. I see the same in him.

…How saddening. He is so troubled for his age, is so burdened by emotions that do not belong to him. That should never have belonged to him. 

Ah, he’s reaching for me again. Perha– BY DIN’S WRATH.

His touch traces the edges of the chipping paint on my cheek, a sensation that sears like molten iron as it lifts and breaks away. 

Each scrape of his fingers against the crumbling wood only echoes the years of decay I have endured. 

I have not felt pain like this since I was cast away to this damned prison.

…He winces as he realizes what he’s just done. To see such kind eyes full of guilt is… upsetting.

“Oh, no..” He's frowning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that..”

..It is quite alright, tiny little luminary.

The sprite sighs. “If you want to use that crumbly old thing, then be my guest,” she huffed, swirling around his head for a moment to get closer to me. “I just think it might be dangerous.” Her motives are pure. Her tone, however… 

She is fiery, much like Din. He, on the other hand, sports such powerful courage that Farore would celebrate it. Perhaps he is a child of hers.

The boy pulls himself up, dusting off his tunic. He holds me much more gently now. Still, I can feel myself splintering. 

I am worried.

If he is to confront Majora, reliant on my power, then so be it. I have been sapped of whatever free will I ever had. I have worn so many bodies. They have worn me. What is another to be added? But that was in my prime. I have been deteriorating for many ages, and it is not unlikely that my power has as well. This boy has many years ahead of him. 

To have his blood on my hands would be nothing short of tragedy.

... and that's all he wrote! sorry this one ends kind of awkwardly, i didn't wanna drag it into the battle... anyways, hope anyone reading this enjoyed!

[sincerely-sofie]

*slides a list of notes on Amnesiac Darkrai’s character across the table*

First of all, when you bonk all thoughts of world domination out of his head you're just left with PolitelySittingPlankton.jpg

That and also someone who is deeply and irrevocably disturbed by the thought of being abandoned or left alone. He has no idea why that's such a sore spot for him, but it is engraven into his being as inherently as his connection with nightmares is. It's pretty similar in nature to Twig's issues with being a burden that remain despite her own amnesia, actually. Wonder why that is?

(*Shakes paragraph vaguely hinting at Darkrai's evil origin story like it's a bag of cat treats* psspsspsspss—)

So yeah Clingkrai is a whole thing! Who'd've thunk. You can't even go to the market for fifteen minutes without the guy tagging along. If someone leaves the room he gets up and follows them. He doesn't even want to talk to or do something with them, he just Cannot Stand existing without another person around.

He's extremely formal and polite, and honestly a bit archaic when it comes to his fixation on manners. It's like he hasn't had a full conversation with anyone since the PMD equivalent of the regency era.

(*Shakes paragraph harder*)

While he can be knocked out in a fight, he can't naturally fall asleep. This is a trait he shares with Cresselia. While he can't get any energy from sleep, he is capable of sustaining himself entirely on physical food and the ambient energy of nightmares.

He can't completely stop the area of effect he radiates that inflicts nightmares, but he can put a temporary lid on it if he's got enough energy stored up and is able to dedicate a lot of effort and focus to the task. This is very draining however, and it's pretty much equivalent to someone holding their breath— it can't go on forever.

Twig eventually realizes that getting Darkrai a hobby or two would probably help in her quest to get him to stop looming over her shoulder at all times, but is stumped on what could possibly hold his attention when he doesn't show much interest in anything in particular. One day she assigns him the chore of mending these awful ripped-up curtains she had found in a garbage pile and hung up in her home as a desperate bid to get some time away from his company. She collapses in a disgruntled lump in her room, and finds a lot more than just the curtains mended when she finally exits. She takes a chance and gets some embroidery hoops and different types of thread, and both she and Darkrai are surprised to learn that he's an embroidery master. Go figure.

(Twig has to laugh, just a little, at the thought of the Darkrai she fought in Dark Crater holding a tambour and stitching the same landscapes that this one is so fond of creating. It's something she can't imagine, but the familiarity with a needle and the skill with which he holds it had to come from somewhere.)

Upon him being introduced to the future trio, Celebi spends a while staring at Darkrai while looking like she's seeing double. It reminds Twig of how she reacted when she met her for the first time— or at least the first time since Twig was turned into a charmander— but she doesn't know if it means anything or not. Either way, Celebi is eventually done staring and becomes the greatest advocate for Darkrai of them all. The bar for that was so low it's 20 feet underground, sure, but Celebi is in the stratosphere regardless. She absolutely adores him. No one can figure out why, especially when she was an outspoken member of the "If you somehow find Darkrai in the wild, it's kill on sight" club before now.

Grovyle is firmly in the camp of hating Darkrai's guts, but reluctantly defers to Twig and Celebi despite his distaste for him. He won't talk to the guy beyond monosyllabic responses to his attempts at polite conversation, but he'll begrudgingly maintain the peace treaty that was put into place and keep quiet about what Darkrai did before his memories were lost.

Dusknoir just avoids him. If there is any excuse to leave the room when he's around, Dusknoir is gone, and there is always an excuse— he keeps up a civil front in the moments they do interact, but he is not happy with this turn of events or how Twig is handling it, although he can admire the "bread and circuses" strategy she's employed in a grim, disappointed sort of way.

Darkrai has heard a lot about someone named Kip, but Twig always shifts the conversation in another direction when his name is mentioned. He's not fool enough to ignore the revelation that Kip used to be a member of an exploration team with Twig, though, nor the implication that Kip knew him as well before he forgot everything but his own name. He once broached the topic of meeting this partner of Twig's, and she had denied the thought with such abrupt, resolute anger that he barely recognized the fidgety, nervous character who took him in. Lesson learned: Do not talk about Kip with Twig. Objective Get: Learn everything there is to the falling out these two definitely had and how it relates to his past.

(There was no falling out and they're still the best of friends, but Twig hasn't admitted to Kip who exactly her new roommate is, and she wants it to stay that way.)

Uhhhh what else can I say

Darkrai doesn't emote that intensely, or even very often. He pretty much always has the same wide-eyed, neutral look on his face unless he makes a conscious effort to express something. Flat affect-ers unite

What else, what else…

Y'know that one proverb?

The one that goes "The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth"?

It's pretty significant here.

[electriczayre]

RAHHHHHHHH TAKE MY SWAP PPMV DESIGNS (sorry no una </3 she's bapy and i wanted to focus on the adults with the swaps)

(edit: tumblr why did u format the post that way. i didnt ask you to do that. anyway fixed it)

design notes under cut

Flower (Right as Rain):

• Based on Flower's v4 design, for no particular reason other than it seemed fitting

• Patches aren't really shown, but instead of the daisy(?) patch it's a black tulip!

• sports bra/crop top thing goin on bc slay

• shorts and boots largely the same as box flower

• bandana tied around right arm, and bandages on left (can be over or under the jacket sleeve ig since they're for aesthetic)

• fingerless gloves :]

• i wanted to give round goggles bc i thought it would fit Flower, almost going for a steampunk type thing with the round goggles

Flower (Sabotage)

• used v3 because her look RADIATES ghost energy. like look at her. absolute queen

• corset has a heart design in the middle <3

• choker connected to mesh shirt under the corset

• big jacket !!! like the original Sabotage

• her black skirt is plain like Better Off Worse v3's skirt but tbh it could work with box v3's skirt design too

• boots same as box

• not shown, but her "ghost color" is purple :>

Po-uta (Sabotage)

• due to being Dead tm, his hair is light on the top where his roots are! the bottom is dyed yellow

• he wears a golden heart locket necklace

• black turtleneck sweater bc. Po-uta and sweaters yk

• oversized cardigan instead of whatever typa jacket Sabotage Len has goin on bc it's more Po-uta-core

• tighter fitting pants than box Po-uta, but with the cool pockets still. shoes are mostly the same as box Po's

• his "ghost color" is either yellow (or possibly will change to a similar blue to Right as Rain Po's sweater - depending on if i can pull off a shade of yellow or not)

Po-uta (Better Off Worse)

• his roots have grown out real long bc of lack of management of his hair :(

• he wears a big comfy oversized sweater - probably jade green

• boxer shorts under the sweater

• he wears a triple necklack thingy thing

• his long socks are cat themed bc i think Po likes cute things

Len (Better Off Worse)

• his hair's a bit longer! also bc of lack of management

• his hair is also YELLOW bc he is alive ! though perhaps at the ends it's dyed teal

• he wears a sort of muscle tee with white stripes on the sides

• he gets arm warmers to represent whatever the heck those arm things are on box len. socks are also representative of the leg things

Len (Right as Rain)

• Easily the closest in energy to box Len out of the original Sabotage and my Better Off Worse design. Still the same age as Sabotage (which is to say, unspecified but a young adult)

• Hair tufts rounder, made to kinda look like feathers

• stubby ponytail = less hair to get in the way when flying

• bass cleff patch instead of daisy patch

• the jacket sleeves kinda puff out to mimic box len's armwear, and the patches are meant to look like the tech on them

• big socks with design meant to mimic box len's legwear with the tech

• shorts and shoes similar to box len

• yellow hair!!! and goggles similar to the original Right as Rain Po-uta

• teal turtleneck sweater

Extra Note: I wanted to keep some consistency across characters and roles!

• each Flower has a choker and boots

• each Po has a necklace and some sort of sweater

• each Len has armwear/legwear

• each Right as Rain has the goggles and jacket

• each Sabotage has a big jacket and flowy, open bottom of the design

• each Better Off Worse has the shorts and long socks

[paragonrobits]

One of the things I've been working on behind the scenes and I've vagueposted about it a lot here but I've never actually written anything down because its a work-in-progress and I feel weird about committing to any definitive statements, is a pair of on-going projects; the Exalted Project (an story and exploration of characters in the Exalted setting, using a system to emulate natural character growth by expending experience point and determining story events based on what they purchased) and the OC Project, creating various original settings and a group of characters to focus on, and they're linked because most of them are derived from the Exalted Project overall

and one of the trickiest bits is adapting stuff from Exalted that's integral to a character concept, but making it original or not strictly bound to the particulars of Exalted's cosmology.

Let's take one of my favorites from the Exalted Project; the Infernal Exalted whose working name is Mazrogul (working title: the Brass Beast). She is from the Slayer caste, meaning she is empowered to excel at combat and her primary patron among the titans of the setting is Malfeas, whose iconography, visual aesthetics and powers are just so goddamn COOL that he is 90 percent of the reason I like Infernals almost as much as I love the robotic pseudo-Transformers/Reploids of the Alchemical Exalted.

There are a few interpretations to be made just from this description. Just going on what Malfeas' powers do narratively for Infernal characters, you can infer that in translating her into a purely original character not tied to Exalted, she probably has powers based around tanking attacks (Malfeas grants high defense powers), getting stronger the more she gets hurt (more Malfeas tricks) and overwhelming power by doing Hulk Smash type stuff (Malfeas' basic power grants superhuman power to any action as long as you do it with overkill and overwhelming power), but some stuff gets complicated.

An example.

One of Malfeas' most iconic powers is called Green Sun Nimus Flare, a basic and reliable attack that does more damage, causing wounds to erupt in green fire. Upgrades make it stronger; doing more damage, attacking entities normally immune to physical attacks, manifesting it as an energy weapon, making it a ranged attack that can act freely... its all very cool and a huge part of this character's imagery, and not too hard to disassociate from Exalted. Just make it all Asura's Wrath projectile punches but green.

But this same skill tree is also closely associated to themes of radiation; this is very literal.

Malfeas' charm tree, starting with that particular power, thematically draws on the most horrific aspects of nuclear radiation and its effects on the human body. Killing with these powers produces a fungal cloud that burns people's shadows onto the floor and gives people nightmares for thousands of years, for nothing less suits the limitless hatred of Malfeas, he who was once King of All Kings before he was cast down into the obscenity of physical form (or so his lore goes).

It gets horrifying; these attacks often inflict a magical form of what is very clearly late stage radiation sickness. No detail is spared, and it is gruesome, horrific and unspeakably painful.

So, stripping all the context from it and making it just something she does, what does it say about this character that she has such powers, whether or not she has conscious control over them?

The thing about it is that in Exalted, her patrons are Malfeas (raging, cruel and destructive beyond measure) and Kimbery (a vast acid sea, of impossible expectations and overwhelming hate at any betrayal or failing to live up to her expectations, motherhood played as grotesquely as possible, and sea imagery in all its Lovecraftian horror). Both are cruel, sadistic, violent (and fundamentally tragic, broken entities), and they suggest a bloodthirsty berserker who craves violence and cruelty, either breaking people into pieces for mild disrespect or murderously torturing allies for percieved betrayal.

She is, instead, the heart and soul of the team; a steadfast guardian and protector, a mild-mannered and easy going person who'd rather not splatter people all over the world. World's bad enough as it is, she says, no need to hurt people worse unless you don't got a choice. While her powers are horrific in nature, they don't compel her to do those things, and while her character is clearly modeled after the likes of the Hulk at his most fearsome, she is ALSO modeled after Hulk at his kindest and most tormented, as well as Steven Universe and Hellboy. Part of her core concept is 'what if Steven Universe was exactly the same except all his powers were unspeakabiy horrifying and he had to work around those limitations?'

So, in making her specific to an OC-verse, the question is, do I lean into those themes? Do I try to nullify their most gruesome themes, or lean into them on purpose to raise questions about herself, or give her a challenge; she COULD win fights easily by leaning into it, but what about the cost to herself?

Does she look into a mirror and ask herself what it says about her if she's capable of such things, or do I skirt away from it? Would it work better if I leaned into this as hard as possible, playing monstrosity as a theme both in terms of positive (beat the living SHIT out of tyrants everywhere) and negative (she doesn't wnat to think about what it says about her that this is the shape the power of her soul takes; revealing the monster inside for all to see as her misery, hatred and rampaging hatred blossoms).

[the-sky-the-stars-the-sea]

Calling all Only Friends fans who are willing to discuss some mbti opinions

Sooooo I for one am obsessed with mbti, and I am always trying to figure out the mbti of every character in all media I can consume, and I wanted some of y’all’s opinions on 3 specific characters from Only Friends:

April

Dan

Boeing

I am on the Personality Database constantly, and I know Only Friends already exists there, but these three aren’t on that page, and I’m too lazy to add their profiles on their myself, so I’m asking y’all what you think their personality types are.

I’m gonna put my own opinions under the cut, you aren’t obligated to look at them, it’s totally valid if you wanna form your own opinions and then look at mine so mine won’t cloud your judgment before thinking up your own, if you do look at mine please don’t criticize me if you strongly disagree with me.

(Also I will happily talk about any character’s mbti in this show, or any other show/media (if it’s media I consume) for that matter, if y’all wanna discuss more!)

April: ISFP. I’m actually pretty sure on this one even though she hasn’t had that much screentime. However if she’s an ISTP that wouldn’t exactly surprise me. I might be stereotyping a bit since she’s into indie films, but overall I’ve just gotten the ISFP vibe from her.

Dan: either ENFJ or ISFJ. Yeah I know those two aren’t that much alike. That’s what confuses me about my opinions too. I am pretty sure he has strong Fe though. I think I may lean a little bit towards intuition for him because of how open he was to whatever Nick thought of the relationship, also ENFJ and INFP get along really well and usually work well romantically, and Nick is an INFP. I can’t tell if him saying he has never dated a younger person before is a sign of Si and he’s basically expressing he has no former experience to go off of or if it’s a sign of Ni because he’s open to trying it. Either way FJ types are both really good with communication, and he’s one of the only people in this series that communicates properly.

Boeing: I literally have no clue at all. He confuses me so much. Literally for all the letters I’m like “yeah I can’t see any particular lean.” I feel like if he took the test all the percentages would be pretty close to even. He has his own agenda but can easily fit into any situation. Based off of that though, I’m gonna say perceiving type. My gut is telling me IxFP, and if he were an ISFP the “Mew is a better version of me” comment would make sense since Mew is an INFP (look I know the consensus on the pdb right now is INFJ but nah my boy Mew is an INFP) (sorry again for stereotyping ISFPs, I really gotta examine my biases as an intuitive person now). But honestly though I think he sees the bigger picture too much to be a sensor. As for extroversion vs introversion… I think he’s an ambivert? He’s not really radiating enough extroverted energy for me to type him as E, but even as I write this I’m starting to doubt myself. As for why I think he’s a feeler, I just see Fi in him. But like,, again, if he has dom Ti and inf Fe that also wouldn’t surprise me. I am not any more sure than how I was when I started this paragraph of nonsense.

Hope you enjoyed my musings!

[lucaonthropy]

Finished Mencuri Raden Saleh so these are my (non-linear) thoughts. Spoilers ig

- Why is there so many car crash in this movie lmaooo like. From the first plan to the final one there's always at least one.

- The acting is not the best imo but it's good and very enjoyable.

- Now the voice acting though? That fucks. I'm officially in love with Fella and Tuktuk's voice in particular. The way they speak and all. The others are also good. I think Ucup is the weakest tho ngl.

- Gofar and Tuktuk's sibling bond is going to be the death of me. I actually cried when Gofar snapped after Tuktuk got jailed.

- I have ... thoughts ... about the decision to make Sarah the bait because it really doesn't make sense. She (in character) is portrayed as someone who can't really lie or act so I don't get why they immediately agreed on her being the bait.

- But her fighting scenes are chef's kiss ohmygod. The "Kurang ajar! Dasar katrok!(?)" scene got me cheering on my seat like damn wreck that fucker.

- Also a lot of questions about the random guy flirting with her.

- Anyway. Plot-wise it's consumable. I'm not a proper film critics so this is purely subjective but I love it. Are their plans messy af? Were their decisions questionable and have very bad consequences? Well. Yeah. But it makes sense because their backgrounds. None of them had ever done this kinda thing so the mistakes they made, while kinda annoying, make sense.

- Not a fan of Sarah and Piko being together. Not merely because I ship Hackforger but because their scenes together don't really have a ... spark? They don't connect or bond at all. It's just your usual hetero relationship that got pushed by the staff.

- Not as much Hackforger as I expected from seeing Twitter but eh. I'll take what I can get. Their bond is pretty clear and it's classic bromance to romance type of thing.

- I'm gonna reiterate that I'm in love with Fella.

- The flashbacks are getting annoying ngl.

- Ok so I've heard it's gonna be a trilogy or something so I'm not gonna say much about Ucup and Budiman's locked backstory. They are probs saving it for the next movie.

- Kinda disappointed that there's not much scene detailing the painting or the process of forgery because I'm actually interested.

- Oh! Speaking of which: I now headcanon Piko as autistic-coded or at least neurodivergent-coded because there's no way that guy is neurotypical. Just. No way.

- Whoever chose Tuktuk's actor needs a raise honestly. I'm honestly pretty ok with most of the cast because I never grade a film through that lens (I have face blindness. I couldn't care less about the cast) but oh. My. God. He radiated youngest sibling energy throughout the film and as an oldest sib I both want to punch him and kiss his forehead.

- Detective Sita is also very interesting as a character. Def wanna see her more in the future.

- Mbak Dini!!!! Goddamn I love her. Maybe it's the haircut lmao. But also her outfit when visiting the police station is muah. Love it, love her.

- Hoping Permadi and Rama will die tbh.

- Mas Gito the MVP!!! I always have a soft spot for a loyal butler-esque character like Alfred and Gito soooo yeah.

- Also. I thought I'm gonna finish this movie with shipping Fistjack buuut Fellafullo/Gofella got me in a clutch. Love the back and forth they have going.

- Now for some of my favorite moments:

1. When Gofar and Tuktuk's father scolded them for ruining a car and said "Is it not enough that you two have different mothers and you still bring trouble back!" (paraphrased) and Tuktuk replied "Well but you're the dad."

2. Every fight scene with Sarah.

3. The continued saga of Gofar snacking on Fullo after Fella started bringing them to their hq.

4. Gofar breaking down after Tuktuk got caught.

5. Every Hackforger hug.

6. "Fella already bought the company."

7. The chase scene in the first plan.

8. Whenever Ucup laid out the most unhinged plan. Especially the one that got inspired by uhhh idk PUBG? FF?

9. Every scene of Fella being a pro gambler. Like, red flag but also you go Queen.

10. Piko vs Budiman. Nuff said.

[ronaldanthony4]

I’ve created another digital artwork; this time, it's none other than my cherished original characters, Liliana and Arlon. To most people, they’re just figures on a screen, but for me, they embody something much deeper—my ideal of innocent, unconditional love, the kind that feels almost magical. This piece took me back to their childhood, a moment frozen in time that celebrates the bond they’ve shared since they first met. As I worked on this piece, I found myself lost in the nostalgia of their story, feeling grateful for the opportunity to bring them to life again through my art.

In this particular artwork, they’re both younger than usual—Liliana is seven and Arlon is six. Depicting them at this age is a reminder of the innocence they held from the beginning, a simplicity that made their connection feel so genuine. Liliana, the older one, wears a white minidress that complements her spirited personality. Her smile is wide and bright, radiating warmth and energy as if she’s always ready for an adventure. That’s just how I’ve always imagined her—full of life, with a brightness that could make anyone smile.

Arlon, on the other hand, is dressed in a simple white shirt paired with khaki dungarees. His smile is soft and calm, in stark contrast to Liliana’s exuberance. Arlon is more reserved, a boy who prefers quiet moments and thoughtful gestures. He’s autistic, which is a part of what makes his character so unique. He might not always say what he feels, but his calm presence speaks volumes. His expressions are subtle, but there’s a steady confidence in his gaze, a silent understanding that only deepens his bond with Liliana. While she’s the sun, he’s the gentle earth, grounding her warmth with his quiet, supportive nature.

The setting for this artwork is a simple yet lovely outdoor scene that echoes their carefree childhood. They’re standing close, with Liliana flashing a peace sign and Arlon’s hand comfortably on her shoulder. Their smiles speak to the trust and affection they have for each other. This photo is meant to be part of a birthday photoshoot—a way to celebrate their shared special day. Yes, Liliana and Arlon were born on the same day and month, though Liliana arrived a year earlier. It’s a little detail that’s always made their bond feel fated, almost like they were destined to be together.

This birthday photoshoot took place a week before their grand celebration. The theme for this particular photo was “playtime,” so I kept their outfits casual and fun. I didn’t want anything too fancy or overdone; it was important for their personalities to shine through, and for their connection to feel authentic. Liliana’s dress is playful, with a delicate ruffle at the bottom that adds a touch of whimsy. She has a little daisy in her hair, a simple adornment that hints at her love for nature. She’s the type of child who would happily wander through a field of wildflowers, picking blooms to tuck into her braids. Arlon, meanwhile, looks content in his simple dungarees.

His style is unassuming, just like him, but there’s a quiet charm to it that suits his grounded nature.

In many ways, Liliana and Arlon are like best friends and siblings rolled into one. They’ve been inseparable since their early years, their lives intertwined in ways that go beyond friendship. There’s a comfort in their connection, a deep-rooted familiarity that only comes from growing up side by side. Liliana is fiercely protective of Arlon, always looking out for him, while Arlon’s loyalty to Liliana is unwavering. They have a bond that can only be described as soul-deep, one that will eventually bloom into romance as they grow older, but for now, it remains a pure, childlike affection.

I think what I love most about capturing them at this age is the simplicity of their relationship. There’s no need for grand gestures or flowery words; they just enjoy being together. Liliana might drag Arlon into one of her wild ideas, like chasing butterflies or climbing a tree, and he’ll follow, a little hesitant but happy to be by her side. And when things quiet down, Arlon will sit beside her, listening as she chatters away, or watching the clouds drift by in comfortable silence. It’s these small moments that make their relationship feel real, like something you could stumble upon in a memory from your childhood.

The more I worked on this piece, the more I realised that their connection reflects my ideals about love—unconditional, accepting, and steadfast. In a way, creating art with Liliana and Arlon feels like preserving these ideals, like a visual journal of what I hold dear. This artwork isn’t just a birthday snapshot; it’s a symbol of their journey together, from innocent playmates to lifelong partners. And while they’ll grow and change, this image will always capture a moment where everything was simple and pure.

As I finished the final touches, I took a step back and looked at the artwork, feeling a wave of satisfaction. There they were, smiling and carefree, a perfect portrayal of childhood friendship and the gentle beginnings of love. I hope that anyone who sees this artwork can feel a bit of what I feel—a reminder of the sweetness of young friendship, of the beauty of a bond that transcends words. This piece, like all my art of Liliana and Arlon, is a little piece of my heart, a glimpse into a world where love is simple, innocent, and lasting.

And that’s the magic of creating art, isn’t it? It’s not just about lines and colours; it’s about telling a story, capturing a feeling, and sharing a piece of yourself with the world. I can only hope that others see the love and care I’ve poured into this piece. For now, though, I’m content knowing that Liliana and Arlon’s story lives on, not just in my imagination, but in the art I create, one piece at a time. Art has a way of connecting us to our emotions and memories, allowing us to share our experiences with others uniquely and powerfully. Through my art, I hope to evoke those same feelings of love, simplicity, and lasting connections that inspired me to create Liliana and Arlon's story.

[theatrum-tenebrarum]

Misunderstanding Lucifer from the Sandman series and why Gwendoline Christie is the right choice (an art historian and occultist's opinion)

I am writing this post as I'm absolutely baffled by the issues people seem to have with the portrayal of the character of Lucifer in the Sandman series. For some reason people find it problematic that the fallen angel is played by Gwendoline Christie, a powerful and androgynous-looking woman, but there is seemingly no problem with Lucifer being played by a black-haired man in the nightclub business (Tom Ellis in the Netflix series 'Lucifer'). Don't get me wrong, Tom Ellis is entertaining and wonderful to watch, but that particular version of Lucifer is neither canon when it comes to the comics nor does it have anything to do with the actual angel Lucifer.

Angels are genderless beings and they have always been portrayed as androgynous in the history of art. Multiple literary sources, including grimoires (books with supposed instructions on how to summon these beings and many others), state that angelic beings as well as demons are able to change their appearance. Many of those forms they might take aren't even humanoid and they can choose not to show any physical form at all. They aren't corporeal beings, the fact that they do take on any resemblance of a physical form is just so humans can understand them better. That's why we've been painting them as human-like ever since the early times of human civilization. What we make to be similar to us is what makes it comprehensible. Portraying beings from other dimensions/realms as human-like but with androgynous features is a way to show they don't belong in the physical dimension, as gender is likely a non-existent concept in other realms of existence. Androgyny of mythical beings, therefore, emphasizes the fact they are different than physical beings such as humans.

Therefore, when portraying an angelic being in art, or in any type of media, making them androgynous is making way for their essence to come through. In a way, the same applies to the way elves are portrayed as ethereal and androgynous since they don't have to be corporeal beings at all, at least when it comes to folklore. I know this opinion might not be understandable to others or it might sound controversial, but I believe that not portraying an angelic being as androgynous and not showing any signs of their divine origin (these include mannerisms that emphasize their etheriality for example, a cadence in their voice that is different etc.) is a huge missed opportunity that might rob these interesting mythical beings of what they are. Not making angels feel like angels beats the point of having an angel character (in a movie, series or video game for example) in the first place.

This is why Gwendoline Christie is the right choice. At a height of 6′ 3″ (1.91 m), captivatingly pale. androgynous with a powerful specific sort of grace and presence - a perfect 'vessel' for the Morning Star. What's more, she understands the importance, complexity, grandeur and the mythical dimension of the figure of Lucifer, as well as the whole 'spirituality' of the Sandman universe which is rather evident from her approach to this role and the interviews she has given so far. I might go so far to say that, even though the Sandman series isn't even out yet (though there is some footage available already), the casting of Gwendoline as Lucifer feels right just as the casting of Lee Pace as Thranduil in the Hobbit felt right and I consider the character of Thranduil to be the best portrayal of a humanoid mythical being on TV. Lee felt like an elven king, moved like an elven king, spoke like an elven king and radiated an energy of the dimension the elven king might have come from (I'm talking about the folkloric 'Otherworld' where elves supposedly live). I feel the same might apply to Gwendoline and Lucifer.

As an occultist, art historian, anthropologist and someone who is rather fond of the figure of Lucifer, I am looking forward to seeing how Gwendoline interprets him. Finally, we might get something completely different from a frequently portrayed 'demonic' side/version of this important mythical character. We might just see the Light Bringer who has not forgotten his divine origin.

- Heidi (@theatrum-tenebrarum)

Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer (The Sandman series on Netflix, out 5th August 2022)

[virtueofsanityx]

"oh jackson, you silly, silly man." daph had never been the type to be intimidated, or to allow shameless flirting to make her sweat. strength was her fortitude, holding herself in any situation, and that included with men. leaning forward, matching the energy and the playful teasing he offered with some playful teasing of her own, daphne curled a hand around his arm. "you wouldn't know what to do with me if i got you naked. i'm a particular woman, and i like to be pleased as such. i could leave you begging and panting on the floor before i even took my bra off, so do you really want to try and test that?" as if to prove her point, daphne very boldly ran her hand down his chest, not stopping until she'd reached the front of his pants, and gave him the smallest squeeze before she pulled back again. "you aren't a prisoner here, jackson, i'm simply trying to be a good friend and make sure you're safe. if you want to risk yourself, i won't handcuff you to the radiator."

"Of course it's selfishly motivated. I know I'm an asshole. Most people I know know that I can be an asshole." He set his glass on the counter, resting an elbow on the island as he leaned in her direction. "If I didn't know any better, Daph, I'd think you were almost hoping I'd take you up on the rebound sex." One corner of his mouth curled up in a cocky smirk. Jackson definitely wouldn't be opposed. She was hot. And single as far as he knew. If anyone could give him no strings attached it would probably be her. "I've had part of a glass of wine. I can still drive...unless of course, you're just looking for an excuse to get me to spend the night," he teased. "What are you going to do? Tie me up?"

[rubyinasnuggie]

Random Headcanons No One Asked For:

-Both Ruby and Weiss are left handed

--Yang was 100% prepared to tease them about it when Blake very pointedly uses her left hand to write something

--Blake is ambidextrous

--which makes Yang the only right-handed one on the team

--until the fall of beacon oops

-Ren is fully color blind

--once baby Nora figured that out, she made it her mission to explain to him what colors are based on other sensations (sue me I love this trope)

--she describes pink as the quiet comfort they share in each other's presence

--Ren finally sees color for the first time when his semblance upgrades, and he can finally see the pink petals with Nora

-Blake likes to climb on things and find random nooks and crannies to read

--it turns into a game of reverse hide-and-seek when someone needs her: depending on how urgent it is the entire squad will drop everything and look for her

-team STRQ won the Vytal tournament their first year, specifically Summer was the champion

--Yang was more upset about the disqualification than she'd ever admit, because she secretly imagined Summer was out there somewhere watching the tournament, proud of her babies

-Tai pulled himself out of his depression by gardening: having a routine helped him, so he encouraged baby Ruby and Yang to get similar gentle hobbies

-Ruby raises chickens at home

--she very lovingly feeds them corn and calls them her ladies

--Yang affectionately calls them creatures and cluckers and other such rude things to get a rise out of Ruby

-Ruby deeply wants a cow

--this is her one and only retirement dream

--although honestly she can never imagine herself living past her 20s

-Yang struggled with picking a hobby, she gets bored easily and hates the expected

--its only post-Beacon that she understands the benefits of a routine

--thats why she ends up with a ton of chores, just some structure to help her through the day

-Ruby will drink any type of milk, but Strawberry milk is her favorite

-Sun is allergic to bananas but he doesn't know

--he thinks bananas are supposed to be spicy

-Weiss loves sour apple

-Pyrrha loves chocolate almonds

-Yang thinks fish are creepy, she just generally doesn't love the ocean

--she thinks Neptune is a little clown though

-Oscar gets dressed by putting on his left sock, left boot, then his right sock and right boot

--RNJR made it their mission to interrupt him during this just to see him walk around with one boot on

-Ruby likes to bake, it's one of the few solid memories she has of her mom

--one night Weiss was feeling homesick and Ruby taught her how to make mug cakes

--"its probably not that good compared to your cake butler, but it's pretty simple, and I like them!"

--Weiss secretly makes them at least once a week, even back home in Atlas

-Weiss has taken flight lessons, at one point Ironwood really pushed for her to become a pilot in the military

-Blake has a field journal of the different types of Grimm she's encountered

--team RWBY & JNPR have spent several nights sitting in a circle talking and adding to the journal

--while traveling across Anima, Ruby sketched and took notes on all the Grimm she saw, just in case she ever found Blake again

-Weiss collects rocks

--no, not crystals. actual rocks

--shes rarely spent time in the real outside, but whenever she has, she picks up little rocks and puts them in her pocket before anyone can see

-Jaune never actually stopped writing left and right on the bottom of his shoes actually

-Weiss had never been allowed to paint her nails as a kid, she'd always get weekly French manicures instead

--by the second semester at Beacon, Ruby, Weiss, Nora, and Ren would have weekly manicure nights where they'd paint each other's nails

--there were several times they'd rope the rest of the teams into it, especially during the Vytal tournament where they'd write team names on their nails

--during the singles round they'd write Yang on one hand and Pyrha on the other

--"we couldn't make it fit without cutting one of the R's!"

-Pyrrha and Weiss became each other's default plus one's for fancy events, to the point people began to speculate that the two were dating

--Jaune was somehow jealous of them both and it was very confusing to him since he had poor self awareness

-Yang cuts Ruby's hair, but after she lost her arm she lost the fine motor skills to do a good job, so Blake started to do it

-Blake is always there to help Yang with her phantom pains and residual limb pain

--she helps massage Yang's arm while leaning close and purring

--Yang cried the first time Blake did this because she's not used to being taken care of

-Nora never gets sick and is the designated nurse when a bug goes around the teams

--the electricity incident was the first time Nora has ever been bed-ridden

-Weiss took ballet as a child

-Jaune is actually pretty good at the guitar

-Pyrrha is not musically inclined at all its a miracle she managed to do the iconic JNPR shine dance

--jk but actually she's a decent dancer when she has the steps choreographed for her but she has no natural rhythm

-in the last few months before Pyrrha's death, she and Jaune would waltz on top of the roof together

--there were several almost kisses

--maybe a few successful kisses who knows

-there are occasions (obv extremely rare) when Ren actually takes the bulk of the energy from Nora

--this leads to thrilling game nights where Ren makes multiple 40pt remnant-equiv-of-scrabble plays while Nora naps

-Oscar is the only person who can beat Ren in scrabble, although it's very closely matched

-Oscar is amazing at chess and will play it against himself like a little square

-Yang and Ruby are experts at the tabletop war game they play in the library

--9 times out of 10, the winner is one of them

-Oscar is the only one who also knew about Compost King, which was very exciting for Jaune

--Compost King is a common game night activity while they were in Haven because its so hard to say no to Oscar

-Yang is a straight-A student and has always been

-Blake never had any formal education and she finds a lot of the classes incredibly dull or ineffective at teaching the material

--she's always the one convincing Yang to skip a class and lie in the sun-warmed grass with her

--she still gets Bs easily

-Oscar is a very fast reader and will devour any book he's given

--his aunt would frequently bring home books from town just to keep him entertained

-Ruby has suffered from migraines and nightmares her entire life, post-Beacon they only got worse

-Weiss shops at local dust stores whenever she can, even though she could get shipments for free

--however she does have Ron Swanson's "I know more than you" energy when she's shopping

-Blake and Ren will sometimes take naps together

--not cuddling, just occupying the same general space

--wake them up at your own risk

-if Ruby isn't engaged with something, she can start to scatter and dissolve into rose petals

--its a very slow process and someone has always snapped her out of it before she's fully vanished, but Yang is worried about what would happen if no one caught her in time

-Ren is afraid of horses

-Blake hates being cold

-Yang naturally radiates heat cause semblance duh

-Weiss glued the tiniest gravity crystals to the underside of Ruby's bed to ensure it never falls

-JNPR likes to push their beds all together so they can sleep in one big pile

-Nora can only sleep if she's holding someone's hand

Hope u guys enjoyed! These are in no particular order, sorry that I kinda jumped around a lot ����

Feel free to reblog and add your own ideas and headcanons! ❤

[sunfish-studies]

VS Umbrella

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Illusionary Hero › | Next:  ‹ Cogs ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

A new special move!

The third day of summer training camp and the temperature was still rising. Under the cool shade of the tree upon the hill, you, Shimizu, and Yachi were preparing cool electrolyte drinks for the team. Usually, you three done it in the gym but experiencing how hot the weather was, you three decided brought the bottles uphill so the team could drink immediately in order to avoid dehydration.

“That’s a different type of brand you use, [Name]-chan.” Shimizu commented, seeing a different colored package of electrolyte drink in your hand.

“Oh, Kageyama-kun usually used this particular brand,” you replied, pouring the powder into the bottle and turn the lid close, then you shook the bottle so it would mix thoroughly. Your upperclassman hummed in understanding from your answer.

While it was the third day of training, it’s also marked the three weeks of Kageyama and Hinata not talking to each other even though it didn’t hinder their practice. It worried you a bit, but you knew the two of them would talk eventually.

“Great work,” you said, offering the bottle to Kageyama when he and the rest of the boys arrived uphill. He rasped out a thank you before immediately downing the drink.

“Hinata-kun, this is yours!”

“Thank you!”

You purposely be the one to delivered the bottle straight to the person–Hinata was keeping a quite distance from Kageyama and you didn’t want to force the orange-haired boy to get closer with the raven-haired setter.

“Wuaah, it’s nice and cool,” Hinata sighed in content, placing the bottle upon his cheek–enjoying the coolness radiating from it. After satisfied in cooling down his face, he soon downed the drink. Now that you think, you rarely talk to Hinata these days with him busy with his practice.

“[Name]-san, is your arm okay?” ah, he must be referring to the long cut on your arm.

“It’s already a month, Hinata-kun, it’s healed but it does leave a scar,” you lifted your arm, showing a faint lighter line present on your skin where your wound previously at.

“Oh, sorry,” frowns don’t suit Hinata at all–he’s a bright ball of beaming energy, a warm figure who could lit your day in an instant. It’s his nature, and seeing him becoming dejected from the start of the day was worrying.

“It’s fine, Hinata-kun, it’s not your fault anyway. It was an accident,” you dismissed his apology. “And if you need anything, just call out for me, okay? I’ll do my best to help you.”

You didn’t know what force that made you say those words, but you know you couldn’t take it back–you didn’t intend too anyway. Hinata always worked hard by himself, so you want to support him as much as possible. The orange haired boy looked taken a back before a giving you that infamous wide, sunny grin.

“Okay! And call me Shoyo, then! I call you by your first name so it’s fair if you call me like that too!”

“Alright, then, Shoyo-kun.”

.

.

The temperature was still rising–the burning hot atmosphere exhausted your boys even further than before. It would get rough, both for their body and mind eventually. You could feel your skin prickling–the tension was rising faster than before, tiredness building up, and sooner or later it would get to them.

“Damn it!” you gripped on your hand a little tighter after hearing Hinata’s scream of frustration. He failed to get the ball over the net because he lost in terms of strength with Lev. For the past three days, he couldn’t hit any ball comfortably, and with the battle of height always looming over him he had nothing to fight it with.

The match continued–Nishinoya tossed the ball perfectly, and then Kageyama went up to made a toss. Hinata, noticing there was a chance for a quick immediately jumped. Even though the ball barely being hit, it still got over the net and fell on the opposite court.

“You held back, didn’t you!?” his upperclassmen’s praises went over his head as Hinata yelled in anger at Kageyama.

“Held back?” the raven-haired setter also didn’t like the approach, glaring back menacingly. “Me? With volleyball?”

Thankfully before a fight could break, Takeda-sensei already asked for a time-out–with that, at least the two could cool down for a bit and not causing ruckus on the court in the middle of a match.

“That wasn’t the falling toss!” Hinata’s next words, caught you off guard. He noticed something’s different with the toss? It looked the same to you.

“It wasn’t?” Takeda-sensei questioned.

“I mean, looking back, it technically may not have been.” Coach Ukai answered, a thumb under his chin. “I think what just happened is that the toss right now wasn’t like the falling tosses he’s been getting, but more of a parabola.”

It clicked in your mind–the abrupt change suddenly made sense. “Does that mean Kageyama-kun is trying to get Shoyo-kun to hit the ball no matter what?”

“It’s on purpose?” Yachi turned to look at you.

“But what for?” Shimizu’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Hinata hasn’t hit a spike comfortably for a while now,” Coach Ukai was the one who answered to their question. “That’s pretty stressful for a spiker. Kageyama might have subconsciously been worried that Hinata’s might not play as well because of that.”

You frowned in worry, seeing how Hinata still rooted on his spot despite Tanaka’s attempt to dragged him off the court. And it also worried you that Kageyama was looking utterly dejected–maybe he realized for a moment that he pulled his punches. Thankfully it was only a moment–everything was resolved rather quickly and practice resumed.

.

.

After practice at night, you found yourself helping Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi in the third gym. The owl captain immediately dragged you away as soon as the last practice was over (you swore you could hear Tanaka and Nishinoya’s screams of fury), so here you were, throwing balls to Akaashi so he could toss it to Bokuto. Surprisingly, Tsukishima was present as well–now, he’s learning to block with Kuroo’s guidance.

“Oh? Tsukki, [Name]-chan, did you bring a friend today?” Bokuto suddenly asked, which confused the two of you.

“Pardon?” Tsukishima questioned.

When you threw a look over your shoulder, you immediately took a notice of an extremely familiar figure with orange hair by the door. Calling out, you gave him a smile. “Shoyo-kun!”

“[N-Name]-san!”

“What happened to your partner?” Tsukishima asked.

“Kageyama’s practicing on his own again,” Hinata answered. “I was trying to get Kenma to throw me tosses, but he ran away after the fifth one.”

“It’s amazing that you got Kenma to even give you five during practice,” Kuroo remarked.

“So, please let me practice with you!” another surprised for you because Lev showed up and asking the same thing.

“Lev!”

“Oh, Hinata,” the silver-haired boy then noticed you and immediately waved his hands enthusiastically. “Otohaku-chan!! You’re here too!!”

“Lev, quit flirting with the manager and I thought you were practicing receives with Yaku.” Kuroo said and of course, the mention of Nekoma’s libero, Lev stiffened.

“He said I was doing well today, so he let me go!”

From the looks of it, it was no doubt he ran away while Yaku was having a bathroom break or something else that required him for leaving the gym. But Kuroo, being the lenient and laid-back captain he is, dismissed it.

“Well, whatever,” he sighed. “Then, we have the right number of people, so let’s play three-on-three. [Name], you’re in charge of the score.”

Nodding in understanding, you pushed the score board closer and changed the names above–cats and owl, it reminded you of the two captain’s characteristics. You were fine in looking over the match, but this match was quite ridiculous. Thankfully, you’re not the only to think so.

“Um, isn’t this just a bit unbalanced?” Akaashi questioned. He was in the same team with Bokuto and Hinata, whereas the opposite team was clearly having more advantage in height–Kuroo, Lev, and Tsukishima are all above 185cm. Still with the disadvantage he got, Hinata was excited for sure.

The match was interesting to watch–even with the lack of extra height for Hinata’s team, they were still on par with Tsukishima’s team. But soon it was stopped by Yukie and Kaori’s appearance.

“If you don’t wrap soon, the cafeteria will close and you won’t get any dinner.” Yukie informed. “Oh? [Name]-chan, you’re here too? That explains why you don’t show up for dinner.”

Frustration was clear to Hinata because he clearly enjoyed the match and he didn’t want it to end, however, with Kuroo’s reassurance that they would continue this tomorrow, he was back bouncing on his feet. You couldn’t help but smile at the captain’s attentiveness.

“Thank you for cheering Shoyo-kun up,” you said, as the seven of you walked towards the cafeteria. Yukie and Kaori said they had to handle other things first so they couldn’t accompany you (it was hard for them to let you go with the boys). “Today’s not a good day for him so this match definitely cheers him up.”

“It’s nothing, and we probably have to apologize to you too,” Kuroo remarked. “Bokuto’s dragging you here, you stuck with us, and missed dinner. Bokuto, you have an apology to make!”

“That’s right, Bokuto-san, you made Otohaku-san missed dinner.” Akaashi piped up. “Tomorrow she has to wake up early to prepare breakfast, too.”

As if struck by lightning, Bokuto froze and turned stiffly to look at you before he went on a full apology-mode–as far as dropping on his knees, taking your hands in his, and begging for apology. You laughed nervously, but you knew he was sincere with it.

“I’m sorry, [Name]-chan!! I’ll make it up to you!! Do I need to replace you handling breakfast tomorrow!?”

“N-no, it’s alright, I will be fine and you don’t have to apologize, Bokuto-san. I don’t mind helping you practice.”

“Bokuto-san, you’re making Otohaku-san uncomfortable.”

“Have my back for once, Akaashi!!”

.

.

Now that you think of it, your after-practice time was automatically reserved for the third gym. Bokuto would bound towards you, asking for your help as soon as you’re done with your managerial duties. With your nod, he then reached out for your hand and pulled you to ran towards the third gym.

Akaashi already informed you to just dismissed his captain, but you found yourself couldn’t possibly rejected Bokuto’s invitation–especially when his eyes practically shining, you didn’t have a heart to ruin it. That goes for Daichi also, he even offered to talk to Bokuto about it if it bothers you. You were grateful for the two’s offer, still if you could help, you want to be helpful as possible.

It’s probably the third time you helped them practice by throwing balls and keeping an eye on the score board. Well you did your usual managerial duties as well–refilling the water bottles, giving them towels, sometimes wiping the floor when it became too slippery. Kuroo mentioned that you didn’t have to do it since your work hour was over and him, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Lev weren’t from your team.

Again, you dismissed it–it’s not a heavy duty, anyway. In between water break, Tsukishima asked about why on earth Kuroo wanted to help them when they would end up being rival in the end.

The captain cleared his throat. “I want to make the Battle at the Garbage Dump a reality. It’s what our coach wants more than anything. But who knows how much longer our coach is going to continue coaching? So, because of that, we need you guys to keep winning too.”

Overall, you understood Kuroo’s reason, but there was something that piqued your curiosity.

“Uhm, I know this question might sound strange, but, what is Battle at the Garbage Dump?” you asked.

“Oh, that’s right, we haven’t explained anything to Yachi-san and [Name]-san!” Hinata said.

“To put it simple, it’s like destined match between Karasuno and Nekoma.” Tsukishima explained. “It’s been going since the previous Coach Ukai’s time.”

“Karasuno and Nekoma will climb up until they could go to nationals and then will meet up on the orange court.” Kuroo grinned, reaching up to ruffle your hair lightly.

“That’s… so cool,” you muttered. You couldn’t find the exact words to express the awe you’re feeling. A match in the orange court between destined rivals, it’s almost like straight up from a manga or a movie. Other teams could research but playing against a team that knows you really well is going to be an absolute thrill–probably the best match Karasuno could get.

“Right, right!?” Hinata went up to you and asked excitedly.

“Come on. Let’s get back to practice!” Kuroo informed and all of you immediately went to your assigned place.

Practice went on–still between the Owl and Cat group. When Bokuto had to score against someone tall like Lev and Tsukishima, he didn’t kill the ball instead he hit it purposely against the block–returning it to the team for a more proper toss. Knowing how Hinata was hungry for development, surely he wouldn’t miss this.

After Bokuto managed to kill the ball with an intense straight towards the back line, he instantly approached him to ask about it. Soon, the game continued. This time, it was Lev who went for the score but managed to be soft-blocked by Akaashi. The last ball went to Hinata and you witnessed an absolutely underhanded way of blocking.

“Ah! Hey!” Bokuto screeched, also feeling the unfairness. “You guys are playing dirty!”

Hinata had to face three blockers above 185 cm with not a good toss.

“Nowhere to aim,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes in slight annoyance.

However, Hinata intended to face them–he hit the ball to Lev’s fingertips and it flew over before dropping to the inner-side of the opposite court. He jumped high enough and landed on his back instead.

“Shoyo-kun, you’re amazing!” running and kneeling beside him, you praised. Technically, you’re supposed to check on him but it flew over your mind for a second. “It’s an amazing block-out!”

“Did…you actually aim for that?” Kuroo questioned in disbelief. “That was an amazing wipe!”

“Well, I did aim for Lev’s fingertips.”

“What!?” Lev took a full offense in this.

Still, Bokuto was impressed by the lack of fear the younger had. The owl captain was showering him with praises as the rest of you watched from the sidelines. It went well until Bokuto proposed a ‘special move’–which made almost everyone dropped their beliefs, Hinata seemed to be excited by it though.

[iceiclehorned]

Hearing his voice made her jump out of her skin, her fingers switching her phone off as her eyes finally make contact with the Oni before her. Up close like this, there was a particular charm that seemed to radiate, making her soul warming the same way it would during the peak of summer. There seemed to be a natural energy to flow, and some part of her felt as though she had known him all her life, or perhaps that feeling of familiarity had been carried from a previous lifetime?

...Surely, it was all inside her own head?

"N-no, you didn't keep me waiting. Don't be so silly." Although that sense was blooming from within her heart, Ayaka was still thumping with an immense excitement. Attempting to hide the fan-girly jitters was easy enough, but hiding from it was an impossibility. "I needed the air. Your show... was a heartstopper."

In truth, she had, in fact, been waiting for some time, but there was a held awareness that Itto would busy himself with helping the crew and bandmates. He was not the type to offload work onto others, especially if he had been a participant of the initial set-up. It was a trait that the businesswoman found herself admiring about the musician. Polite, giving, all the while carrying an authenticity that could never be diminished. A transparent sweetheart, as well as responsible on all fronts.

It was going to be hard not falling utterly in love.

"The song was so beautiful," her voice was quiet, the focus of her gaze lowering to the ground as her finger twirls around a few strands of hair shyly, the fluttering of her heart inching to an intensity never experienced by her before. An awkward pit was forming within her stomach, and she was hoping he wouldn't take note of just how embarrassing the situation had been. Every slight expression change made, down to the smallest twitch, ignited an excitable spark, which only seemed to spread a small heat through her skin. Cheeks flushed, she truly embraced that high-school crush on Itto. While she had the chance to be close to him like this, she was going to enjoy it.

"It's going to stick with me for an eternity, I'm sure of it."

Sentiment sat behind those words, driving that point home that this was really happening. Initially, doubt had plagued her mind. Kamisato Ayato had drilled in doubts, and whilst she had given him the main scope of the story, she hadn't informed him of who it was she was talking to. In a small way, the fact that Thoma was part of the band made everything come around in a sweet circle. She was hopeful that a chance would occur for an introduction to more people in her life could be made. Deep in her heart, this was a dream she hoped would continue to live on for a long time. Creating a strong enough bond and navigating it within three weeks would be a difficult task, given his busy schedule.

Tonight, she would have to make the most of it.

"I'm all yours until you get tired of me."

Presented as a joke, a small smile given to him as a means to showcase it, despite the strange panging screaming at her to correct that line. With the social skills of a NEET, an anxiety loomed that boredom might strike him quite suddenly.

"I actually took a taxi here." She murmured, a surprised squeak releasing just as his jacket envelopes her smaller frame. The first thing to hit her senses was his scent, failing not to take a deep inhale, embracing every part of the new heat coating the glacier that seemed to embed itself within her body, soaking into her skin at every turn. This, paired with the words said previously, marking a territory undiscovered, rewriting the laws created in her head, undoing all that once made sense.

Having some part of him embrace her, from the inside and outside, drove her insane.

"Would you be okay driving one of your vehicles? I wouldn't mind paying for our trips around."

The Kamisato Household raked in far more money every year than what was needed, so chunks of money ended up in a savings account until she saw something she liked. Which, reminded her that she needed to keep an eye out for the band's t-shirt merchandise coming to the house...

He likely wouldn't have blamed her if she'd genuinely gone into hiding, rather than allowing him to spot her amongst the crowd. Knowing what she looked like made finding her easy once he was scanning the throng of bodies in the venue. He'd be completely unaware of her infatuation with him or how deep it went, and he'd remain unaware unless she said something to him. Which was doubtful in itself. He was a celebrity and she was a businesswoman, though perhaps in her own way, she was a celebrity in her own right as well.

He'd grinned and winked at her as soon as their eyes met. He wanted her to know he'd seen her and that was what he'd done. Prior to announcing the song, of course. Which came later in the evening itself. The concert was nice, not too large, not too small. Multiple people had shown up though they weren't as popular as mainstream bands were, they had their following, and they made plenty of money. All without selling out, too.

For some reason the Oni felt that she looked familiar. Perhaps he'd seen her in college? He wasn't aware that he was best friends with her brother yet. That reveal would likely not come for a while. None of the band had stage names, really, they just went by their first names to make things easy on the fans. Plus, it made finding them on social media pretty easy in the long run too.

Her promiscuous video had been dismissed by him. He'd not saved it. He had no reason to do such a thing, nor did he have a WANT to do such a thing. Saving her image was one thing but he wasn't the sort of pig who would save a video that was sent on accident. In fact, she might have noticed that he'd taken the time to delete the accidentally sent video from their earlier messages. Likely to put her mind at ease.

While celebrities, specifically rockstars were well known for being sluts, he was nothing of the sort. He had people throwing themselves at him at just about every show, and all he did was head back to the bus and get some rest after each show. Not this one, though, after all, he had a princess to meet up with. The only one of the band he'd talked to about it was Thoma, who had, obviously told him to be careful. Since he had no idea it was Ayaka the singer was meeting up with.

It wouldn't take much time for him to emerge from the venue. The other fans had long since left due to the chill in the air. The cold had no effect on him despite how he was dressed. He just needed to hope that no local magazine or news paper people were around to snap a photo of him and Ayaka together. They'd likely ruin her reputation with baseless rumors or something like that. He wouldn't stand for that.

"Sorry if I kept ya waitin', princess, had to help the guys take everythin' down for the night. Next show ain't for a few days,"

The band's website had since been updated to show all the concerts planned for the area. He'd be in the city for three weeks, and there would be a few more concerts before they moved on to a new town, or city. He wasn't sure how she'd gotten to the show herself, had she driven, or had she taken a taxi?

He'd not noticed her accidental text to him yet, and he likely wouldn't for some time since they were standing in front of one another now. They could speak without the need to use text messages to do so. As she spoke about not having expected him to play the song he did he'd chuckle.

"I'm an Oni of my word, princess, I told ya I'd play a song for ya, and I meant it."

A lot of other musicians or celebrities might make promises and not keep them, but he'd not even PROMISED to play a song for her, he'd told her he'd play something for her, and he did. He was a man of his word and she'd likely very quickly learn that. At her offer of going to her place for a meal he'd hum softly. Well, he did have her for the night, right?

"Well, since you're mine for the night I see no reason to say no. Do ya have a car... or did ya take a taxi to get here? As for what we eat, we can order out if ya want, or I can cook somethin' if you're alright with me usin' your kitchen."

Luckily, his bodyguard was otherwise occupied so he was able to talk to her without the man's imposing presence likely intimidating the poor woman. If she didn't have a car of her own, both his bike and his car were in the city, they were brought in along with the rest of the band members vehicles. He could see her shivering despite trying to act like she wasn't cold, which would lead to him shrugging his jacket off and draping the warm cloth over her shoulders.

"If ya don't got a vehicle, mine were brought along with the others, since we're gonna be here for a while we need the means to get around without usin' a taxi."