#so its just the three of them going in circles trying to figure out what in their memories is actually true for who

[aroaceleovaldez]

i genuinely think there is so much you can do with the whole concept of “we don’t really know if Leo and Piper were close friends with each other pre-Hera mind meddling.” Like, they probably knew each other for sure, but especially given how absolutely resistant Leo is to being open to Literally Anyone, and how much Leo and Piper were hiding in TLH, they actually probably weren’t super close. Because otherwise they would have told each other, logically.

Can you imagine the dynamic between the Lost Hero trio if that had been acknowledged and played into? How much Piper and Leo would have had to question all of their memories and what was tampered with? Who they actually knew? How close they actually had been with each other, and how they actually felt about Jason? Cause it’s basically never addressed besides a sliver in TLH that they had completely fabricated memories of all three of them! That would have fucked them up so much!

[uno-san]

Hiii! Could I rq reader who was Fords gf/so before he left and when he comes back he’s happy bc he realizes reader stayed in Gravity Falls the whole time and maybe even helped Stan fix the portal!

But then Bill comes and it’s totally up to u whether to make Bill like super jealous of reader or become just as obsessed with reader as he is with Ford idk.

Thank u!

Hello! Thanks so much for sending in a request. This is the first thing I've written in FOREVER, so I miiiiight have gotten carried away. Hope you and everybody else enjoys!

It always reminded you of the night sky. 

That, or what lied far beyond it. Beyond you, maybe. But never Stanford Pines. Who, in this very moment stood several yards from where you yourself were. The both of you had that strange, not-quite night sky wrapped around your forms. Yet instead of the endless expanse that space was known for, various journals, textbooks, and equations littered that space around you.

It would have been a marvelous sight if you didn’t know the purpose behind this all-too tailored world for Stanford. A trap meant to make him feel seen and applauded in ways you couldn’t quite match. A place for them to meet.

Beside Stanford was another figure. A three-sided one to be exact who had taken place near his shoulder, where he had been far longer than you could have ever known. But here he didn’t need to whisper his lies. Here, the two of them could simply converse and enjoy each other’s company. A wonderful plan to make Stanford feel known while also shutting you out from the light altogether.

Their laughter was uproarious.

“AHAHAHAHA! COME ON, SIXER, YOU DON’T MEAN THAT!”

A shrill voice cut through your observations. The devilish figure that it belonged to had placed his hands over his chest, or stomach, as if he were trying and failing to hold in his joy. His one eye was closed and curved to show a smile that his body didn’t have the means to actually do. His tie meanwhile spun in circles as if a toy had been wound up.

‘Sixer’ had his eyes lowered to the platform of which he stood. Tucked under his arm was one of his prized journals, where each of his six fingers drummed against its spine. He looked bashful under interrogation.

“What, not quite the term your ego would prefer, Bill?” Stanford finally shot back, his gaze raising to meet Bill’s while his eyebrow raised to pose a challenge.

“NOT AT ALL!” 

The demon began to circle around Stanford, who’s whole body began to turn with a determination not to break eye contact again. As if he were afraid of losing sight of Bill. Or his attention. Seeing it reminded you of a puppy enamored with its owner. Its everything, really. You had been familiar with it at some point yourself. What felt like ages ago now.

“JUST SURPRISED, IS ALL. I MEAN, AAAAAAAAALL I’VE DONE IS EXPAND YOUR MIND TO THE UNIVERSE OUTSIDE YOUR PUNY WORLD, SHOW YOU NEW COLORS, AND GIVE YOU THE PERFECT COMEBACKS EVERY TIME YOU GET INTO AN ARGUMENT,” He humbly bragged, “BUT IS THAT ALL REALLY WORTH IT TO BE CALLED YOUR-”

MUSE.

Muse.

Muse.

Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse.

That damn word was going to be imprinted on your brain with how often it was quite literally repeating. Out Loud. High-pitched and nearly shattering your ear drums, a physical manifestation of the word appeared in the space to hurl itself in your direction; A move you’ve seen one too many times. You nimbly dodged off to the side without losing your footing like you had the first time this occurred. With both your feet planted firmly on the ground you whipped your head around to catch the end of the show.

The scene had frozen. Stanford’s expression was stuck in a form of denial, his cheeks tinted a rosy color that you used to make them turn. His brow was furrowed as if he were concerned. Or desperate to assure Bill that he truly was worth it all. Bill meanwhile had his arms folded behind his back while his half-lidded eye bore down on its prey like a benevolent mentor.

Bill’s pupil slowly slid in your direction.

“A BENEVOLENT MUSE, YOU MEAN.”

Bill Cipher became animated again. This time he no longer addressed the version of Stanford standing before him. His smug attention was all focused on you now. His small frame managed to tower over you in mere presence alone, even at the distance you two stood at.

Arms folded behind his back, there was a silence that followed while Bill inspected you. Perhaps waiting for you to give a response before he settled on his own. He feigned surprise.

“DIDN’T EXPECT TO CATCH YOU HERE. SIXER AND I WERE JUST HAVING A MOMENT ALONE,” Bill emphasized, his arm outstretching far past its supposed physical limit to wrap itself around Stanford’s still frame, “YOU KNOW, LIKE WE’VE BEEN HAVING FOR A WHILE. BEHIND YOUR BACK. IN FACT HE WAS JUST ABOUT TO GET TO COMPLIMENTING ME. SINCE I’M HIS MUSE. HIS SKY. STARS. WHATEVER.”

Muse.

Another manifestation hurled its way in your direction. You weren’t nearly as prepared and the edges of the word were sharp, slicing into your arm to draw what you assumed to be blood. With a wince you had to steady your balance before your glare shot back to the bastard in front of you.

He was a menace who you hadn’t realized you had been in competition with for years. And now, in a pissing contest with as the man you’re both fighting over like teenagers was lost in worlds unknown. The man you had loved and had been prepared to marry was gone now. Leaving you with his unfaithful ‘Muse’.

Oh, how you’ve come to hate the word.

It happened first when you had learned of the existence of an other-worldly being that had been secretly leading Stanford’s ambitions. Second was when you had discovered Ford’s hidden collection of idols and paintings. All squirreled away in a private chamber of his own viewing pleasure. That had been manageable.

But the fondness in his gaze when discussing their meetings made your heart ache. How he’d talk as if Bill Cipher was the sole purpose of everything now. His reason for continuing his research or facing adversity for his talents. Or the way he’d pause in the middle of a task to instead laugh at a memory of Bill from earlier, with his hands looking to busy themselves as a distraction.

All of that had hurt. But what made you hate the word most of all was its constant use to torture you. That the moment Bill had sensed your distaste for the term he had done nothing but plague your mind with it. Shoving it in your face as if he was a secret side woman in some stately affair.

Thus far this has been your nightly routine for several months now. Ever since Stanford Pines went missing from this world and so many others. With his brother, Stanley, being left behind with you to pick up the pieces to get back your lost loved one. And for some reason or other, Bill had set his sights on tormenting you.

Every night. Different visions of their bonded moments played in your mind while Bill sneered and poked fun at you for being fool enough to never notice the signs of your man slipping away. You never knew if what he showed you was true. You hoped not.

“THEY’RE REAL.”

You ignore him a moment to get back on two feet. Standing tall before him.

“Do you plan on taking me through your ‘Greatest Hits’ every night or are you going to fuck off already?” The venom in your tone caused interest to gleam in his eye. Most nights you try not to dignify his taunts with a response. But you were tired. Both mentally and physically thanks to late nights with Stanley to try to get the portal running again, or your lonely crying sessions blaming yourself for letting this go on for so long. You were exhausted.

“AW, DIDN’T THINK YOU’D GET SO CRANKY OVER A LITTLE FUN FORDSY AND I WERE HAVING! I’M SURE IT’S EASY TO GET INSECURE OVER THE IDEA OF YOUR MAN GETTING THE CHANCE TO VISIT A SUPERIOR BEING EVERY NIGHT BUT HE MENTIONED YOU ONCE OR TWICE. Y’KNOW, ABOUT HOW YOU’RE ‘SAFE’ AND ‘STABLE’.”

You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you. Perhaps even deter you from working on that portal any further, ensuring that Stanford would remain lost to mystery forevermore. “Say what you want Bill but I know him better than what your mind creeping could ever do. You miscalculated by seeing only the parts that benefited you and that’s going to end up biting you in the ass. Because it doesn’t matter what you and Stanford had before. Whatever was there is GONE, and I know that Stanford will be coming to end you too.”

It was difficult to keep your voice steady to feign the confidence that you hadn’t had in a long time. You stood bravely in the face of Bill, who’s form only grew in size while you charged up your own argument. He was nearly towering over you now while his gaze remained steady on you. His expression was unreadable.

“WELL WELL WELL, I-”

He’s yapped for far too long.

“Maybe that’s the point to all of this,” You gestured to the spectacle put on pause, “You realize you fucked up. Pushed too hard. Or maybe you’re not even playing this for me. You’re just trying to convince yourself that Ford is still in the palm of your hand when in reality, he despises you. Wants you dead. That despite all the compliments and praises you keep showing me he still picked me over you.”

You weren’t sure if any of this was going to strike a chord. Especially with being in the dark as long as you had, there was nothing for you to fight with. The best you could do was treat him like the vindictive affair partner he was pretending to be. And it worked. Or it was the hint of a suggestion you made in saying you were chosen over him.

Bill’s form skyrocketed in size from its already heightened form, with the triangle now bending over you now to force you to nearly tilt your head all the way back just to make eye contact. His pupil was entirely black to reflect your new surroundings as the static image of Ford and their place of contact was suddenly whisked away. What used to be a bright yellow turned to blood-red bricks that you swore you could feel heat coming off of.

“STANFORD PINES FEARS ME,” Bill’s voice boomed, “AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHERE I WANT HIM. THINKING OF ME AND CHASING AFTER MY COATTAILS UNTIL THAT NERD COMES TO REASON. AND UNTIL THEN YOU-”

His fingers snapped. The ground beneath you disappeared and you felt weightlessness hit as you began to descend into a dark pit. “YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!”

The vision of the gigantic demon began to fade away. His voice still boomed and echoed despite the void that they were shouted into. As your conscience begins to fade into its own form of nothing you close your eyes to instead repeat his words to yourself.

Never see him again.

__

The Mystery Shack above you groaned with disapproval. Its wood and structure creaked as it finally settled back on the ground, thankfully still supported by its own weight once gravity returned to normal. You were face first on the ground with your head still spinning from that hasty landing you made to resist any damage. With just one peek of an eye you could see that your vision was still hazy. Only a sickeningly familiar blue light kept the basement of the Shack from being in total darkness.

Darkened figures up ahead began to move. When you tried to join them you were quick to discover that your leg caught in debris. A quick examination told you that it wasn’t anything dangerous like active machinery, and the small tugs you gave to test your aching body showed that nothing was quite broken. Hurt, yes, but all intact.

Just like the house you could feel your bones settling back into place while creaking with resentment. You could only imagine how Stanley must have been feeling. Propping yourself up with one arm you then used your freehand to begin pulling away at the rubble on top of you, trying to carefully dismantle it piece by piece so that it wouldn’t collapse on top of you.

Having been so focused on your escape you had only caught the tail-end of what Stanley was telling dipper.

“The author of the Journals…”

Your head whipped around so fast it could have snapped, “My brother.”

As if on cue a figure cladded in a black cloak removed his mask with a six fingered hand, his silver hair whipping around him as he slowly revealed a face you thought you could have anticipated after having aged years with Stanley. The fact that they were twins did little to stop you from tearing up at the handsome visage that was your Stanford Pines.

The wrinkles in his face had deepened from the last you saw him. He was still chiseled with a hint of facial hair he might have shaved off recently while his posture and expression gave off a confidence you weren’t familiar with.

Stanley began to approach him with open arms, prepared to greet the brother he’s missed for years for longer than yours. Stanford didn’t match his sentiments. Instead his fist drew back to strike Stan who had flinched out of the way- But not before Stanford’s fist froze. Left hanging in the air as something else caught his attention. Past Stanley and Dipper. Through various piles of cement and broken wood.

You.

Neither of you moved. His eyes flickered back and forth in a manner that suggested he was examining you all the same. Taking in every detail of your graying form, of each new wrinkle that has marked your age like a tree. The intensity of his gaze made your heart stall for more reasons you could count.

Was that disappointment in his gaze? Or worse, indifference? The world had already been cruel in tearing you apart in the first place. How easy would it be to have Stanford simply forget you? To have moved on to grander and exciting things since his time away. After all, Bill Cipher had enticed him once before. YOU nearly lost him once before. Who’s to say you haven’t wasted your years chasing after a man who could no longer remember your face?

Tears began to gather. They soothed the sting of debris in the air to instead replace it with a dull ache in your heart. At this point you could have been crying over any number of things. You tried calling out his name but the words caught in your throat.

He shouted yours instead. Pushing passed his stunned brother and great nephew to run in your direction. Just as Stanford was a few feet away he suddenly dropped to his knees to slide the remaining distance. It was a physical endeavor you envied in this moment.

Already Stanford’s arms wrapped around your form, drawing you in close to his chest while he buried his face into your hair. You didn’t dare utter a sound of discomfort. Swallowing your tears you chose to focus on his warmth rather than the pain your body was in. How much studier his arms felt from the last time you were held in them, however long ago that was.

“M…My dear…” Stanford gasped, as if the term of endearment hadn’t been uttered in history before. His six fingers nearly dug into your body with his tight grasp. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “This…This is real. Bill isn’t lying again. You’re here. You.”

From the corner of your vision you could see both Soos and Mabel staring in wonder. Their mouths were left hanging open while they slowly turned to each other to clasp hands together. Mabel began to mouth ‘they have a histooooory!!’

You opted to turn your face into Stanford’s chest to ignore all that as long as you could.

“All these years I’ve waited here for you, Stanford. Every year was spent fixing the portal, I-” Your eyes wandered to his twin, “-We’ve been fixing the portal. Stan and I together decided we weren’t going to stop until you were home safe.”

Stanford drew in a breath. The tension that coiled his posture was a familiar sign of his frustrations being withheld, and with the copious warnings in his Journals to not open the portal again you had a fairly safe guess as to what that tension was. Stanford managed to swallow it down as his hand cupped your cheek and directed your eyes to his.

The years have really gone by. For the both of you, you realized as you gazed into weary and worldly eyes. Did he see the same thing in you? Or has it occurred to him just how truly long it's been since the two of you were close like this. Since way before he was lost in the first place. To where Bill’s schemes began to put the first cracks in the foundations of your relationship.

From the distance the portal still glowed a blue hue, flickering every few moments as the machine began to lose its life at long last for what you pray is the last time. Both of you were left illuminated with blue. The beautiful sight of Stanford had been imprinted on your mind, nearly washing away the years of trauma the color had come to be associated with.

You could have sworn Stanford’s eyes were brimming with tears as well before they closed, the distance between you two gone as he leaned down to capture your quivering lips in a kiss. With it came the relief of a thirty-year grief. Not of a healed relationship but of a path to recovery and trust. You nearly grinned into the kiss. Stanford Pines chose you.

[sunghoonnsupremacy]

OPEN UP. - perv!roomate sim jaeyun.

- warnings : pussy eating, cnc, multiple orgasms, jakes a perv, panty stealing and somnophilia

- word count : 418

- a/n : this was originally an ask but i accidentally deleted it so i hope the anon still sees it<3

- synopsis : jake didn't plan to catch feelings for somebody this year, especially not his hot roommate. but what can he do? its winter break and he just knows you haven't gotten laid for as long as you've been living there so being the gentleman that he is, he decides to help you out!

it's two am. you're laying on your bed with a dimly lit night, trying to fall asleep. it's been a long day for you. going to school amongst having to work a shift as a barista definitely isn't your thing, yet here you are. as you slip into a deep slumber, you don't hear the door creaking open slowly.

jake slips into your room wearing his sweats and a black tshirt with his hair messy. he seems to be admiring you, as he walks closer to you with his eyes glued to your shirt riding up, showing your panties. he curses quietly to himself before sitting on the bed next to your sleeping figure. jake brushes the hair out of your face and kisses your forehead.

sweet, right? 

not really.

his hand slips down your panties and he immediately groans at the heat that's radiating from your slightly wet pussy. you stir in your sleep, seemingly not waking up any time soon. he sits behind you and slowly takes off your panties. the visual hitting him better than expected.

 "fuck.." he spreads your legs open and leans in to lick at your pussy from the back, not before tucking your panties into his back pocket.

taking a long strip with his tongue, jake groans at your sweet taste. you start breathing heavier in your sleep and weakly attempt to close your legs.

jake clicks his tongue and harshly spreads them to slurp up at your pussy. his tongue maliciously licks around your clit as his fingers circle around your opening. by now you've waken up, which jake hasn't noticed hence he's in pussy heaven right now. you squirm around with widened eyes and soft pants continuously leaving your mouth.

"j-jake what are you doing?" a whimper leaves your mouth when he looks up and detaches his lips from you. he starts caressing the inside of your thighs softly, "couldn't resist it, sorry baby. just lean back and enjoy it" a strangled yelp leaves your mouth when he wraps his arms around your thighs, slamming his face onto your pussy and eating you out like never before.

your legs instinctively close around his head from the amount of pleasure. "open up, baby." he forces them open and holds them down so you can't do anything but let him do his thing.

as the night continues, you've already had three orgasms on his tongue, fingers and most importantly his dick. cuddling your shaking form close, jake wraps his arms around you and pecks your lips softly.

"sweet dreams, roomie."

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: More friends meet Rose, and your parents fly home, leaving the three of you to figure things out together. Bradley is struggling with the six week rule, deeming it unfair that you look so good while he can't have you the way he wants to.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, messing around, oral sex, DILF Roo

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

By your parents' last evening in San Diego, Bradley had put them in touch with the realtor he used to buy the Craftsman. They spent hours walking around Coronado with Rose in her stroller all week, looking at houses and getting more ideas. And then they delayed their flight home two times. The fact that they didn't seem to want to leave their grandchild was heartwarming, and now they were seriously talking about moving.

"By the end of the year, we are moving" your mom said, burping Rose in the living room. "I just can't stand the idea of waiting until July to see her again. Makes me want to cry."

It was April now, and they promised to come back for a visit around Independence Day. Bradley already had plans circling in his mind about where he could take you for a few days alone, because things were about to get a lot tougher without your parents around. The two of you were going to need a little vacation to look forward to. And if he could get you alone, he could get his hands all over you as much as the two of you wanted.

"So, are we going back to Mexico or Hawaii in July?" Bradley asked later that night while he watched you get undressed before bed. Your tits looked incredible, nipples huge and pert as you removed your nursing bra.

He forgot what he had even asked you as you ran your fingertips along your breasts and scoffed at him. "Neither, Roo. We have to get serious about saving money for Rose to go to college in just eighteen years." When you pulled your shorts down, he could see your rooster tattoo, and now he really couldn't think.

Bradley grunted. "She'll get a full ride to school. She takes after you. She's already a genius. Whenever I call Tramp, she points right at the dog."

You sighed and smiled at him. "I think you're being optimistic." Your hands were back on your tits, and he immediately reached for his cock, your eyes tracking his every move. "Bradley."

"What?" he rasped, thinking about last week in the backseat of the Bronco. That was the last time the two of you really messed around, and he could tell there were moments when you were uncomfortable in your own skin. But he hadn't stopped wanting you for a single moment. "How do you expect me to watch you strutting around the bedroom completely naked and not get hard?"

You turned toward the bathroom for a few seconds and muttered, "I look weird."

"You look beautiful." When you finally met his gaze, he said, "I love you too much to lie to you, Sweetheart."

He was plainly hard in his boxer briefs with his hand resting on his thigh. He'd never try to pressure you to do anything physical if you didn't want to, but there was no way he was going to let you think you suddenly turned him on less than before.

You dragged your fingers across your breasts again, and Bradley groaned before you tangled your fingers in your necklace chain. You looked a bit bashful, and even that was fucking him up.

His voice was raspy, and his throat was dry as he sat up and asked, "Do you want me to show you?"

You shrugged and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. "Only if you want to."

He was up off the bed in an instant, grabbing you as gently as he could. "Roo," you gasped in surprise as he carried you back to the bed.

You were completely naked, head on his pillow, leg hitched around his hip, and Bradley kissed you so hard, you were moaning. "If you leave the decision up to me, I'm always going to want to show you how I feel about you," he said, voice deep and needy. His fingers grazed along your body, lower and lower until he touched your clit, and you arched off the bed.

"Fuck," you moaned, voice breaking.

"You're so fucking hot," he whispered, running just his index finger through your pussy. You were soaking wet. "You're killing me, Baby Girl." He traced your tattoo, decorating your skin with your wetness while you looked up at him with parted lips and half lidded eyes. You watched him bring his finger up to his lips, and with one swipe of his tongue, he was moaning, too. "Six weeks is a long time when you look this pretty and taste this sweet."

Your teeth sank into your lip before you murmured, "You're killing me, too." Then your fingers were tangled in his hair, and he eased his body down so he was resting against the warmth of your core. It was so close to what he wanted right now, but he knew he couldn't go all the way there. The frustration building inside him was almost pleasurable as you gasped his name as he sucked on your neck.

Nails pressing into his scalp, you didn't stop him when he pulled himself free from his boxer briefs and ran his cock through your pussy. "Jesus Christ," he hissed, guiding his hips away from your body as you pushed him off of you. But instead of telling him to stop, you rolled him onto his back and yanked his underwear down his legs.

His cock was in between your lips before he knew what was going on, and he saw stars as you sucked on him. "Fuck, Sweetheart. Oh, god."

You pulled him free and shook your head. "If you can't be quiet, then I can't give you a blowjob. My parents are out in the living room."

"Please, stop talking about your parents and just give me head," he begged, already panting as you smirked at him. His balls were already tight as you licked your lips and parted them once more for him. Your tits looked irresistible as you knelt between his spread legs, and he would be lucky to last a full minute with this kind of treatment. "I was supposed to be the one showing you how much I want you," he whispered, trying not to thrust up into your mouth.

You responded by taking him deeper until he was grabbing at the bedding to hold back his orgasm. This time when you pulled him free, your saliva dripped onto his thigh. "Just take what I can give you right now."

Two pumps of your fist, and you were sucking on him until he came long and hard, fist in his mouth to make sure he was quiet. You swallowed down his cum and licked him clean as he stared at the ceiling in a daze. "You give me everything."

------------------------------

You fell asleep with a smile on your lips after your husband took his time with you, rubbing your clit with practiced fingers and whispering the dirtiest things about how good he was going to fuck you in another few weeks. As it turns out, you also needed to be reminded to be as quiet as possible, especially when he was a whining mess over your breasts.

Even though you knew Rose would have you up in a few more hours, you let yourself drift off to the sound of Bradley's heavy breathing and the warmth of his body. Whenever you started to feel bad about the way you looked, he seemed to be able to lure you back on track. He didn't mind your weird body one bit, and in fact, he was literally counting down the days until you and he could have intercourse. And you wanted it, too.

You barely heard your daughter when she started crying to eat around midnight, because your mom was in the nursery with her so quickly, it was ridiculous. When you padded down the hallway, still half asleep, you could hear her singing to her granddaughter. 

"I got her," you murmured when you walked into the room, and you realized your mom was crying. "Are you okay?"

She kissed Rose's head and whispered, "Of course. I just don't want to be so far away from the three of you. Rose is exactly the way you were as a newborn; a sweet little snuggle bug who turns into a bit of a terror when she's hungry. I can't get enough of her."

You laughed as you sat down in the glider, and she handed your daughter to you once you were ready to feed her. Rose curled up against your body, clearly very hungry. "She is honestly so sweet."

"I love her so much," your mom whispered. "Are you going to be okay when we leave in a few hours?"

You stared at the night light in the corner of the room, surrounded by darkness otherwise. The exhaustion you felt since Rose was born started to get better while they were here, and you knew for a fact that things would start to get harder again soon. "Yeah. We'll be okay. Bradley and I will take some vacation time in July when you come back to stay with her." You met your mom's eyes where she stood. "You and dad are really good at this."

"I'm happy you think so," she said softly. "Retirement is looking better by the minute."

She sounded like she was about to cry again, so you politely kicked her out of the nursery before she could start. She needed to get some rest before their flight home, and you needed to get used to doing this on your own again. You almost craved the routine of going back to work. You missed seeing Cat every day, and you even missed your boss. Rose would be old enough for the daycare pretty soon, and you could sneak over on your lunch breaks to check on her.

But at the same time, the idea of someone else taking care of her for eight hours a day had you almost panicking. "Why are you like this?" you whispered to yourself. You could barely control your emotions at times right now.

"My girls okay?"

Just hearing Bradley's voice made you relax, and you realized Rose was starting to slow down as you turned to look at him in the doorway. "Yeah. I was trying to let you sleep."

He gave you grabby hands, and you noticed he had the Nugget notebook tucked under his arm. "Let me burp her and read a bedtime story so you can go back to sleep."

You knew he had to drop your parents off at the airport in a few hours and then turn around and go right to work, but he wasn't going to be deterred. He took Rose and settled down on the floor with a grunt, kissing her head as she yawned. With the night light shining next to him, he juggled her and opened the notebook, and you stood in the doorway and listened for a few minutes as he read one of his entries to her.

"You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about."

--------------------------------

Bradley was standing in the living room wearing Rose in her carrier and holding two massive bags filled with gear. "Is this all really necessary?" he asked as you ran around grabbing more stuff.

"Do you think we should drive?" you asked, popping the stroller open and looking at it with concern.

"Sweetheart, the beach is like three blocks away," he replied, trying to keep his tone even.

"The beach with a lot of rocks is like three blocks away," you said, exasperation lacing your voice. "Do you think we should drive up to the better beach?"

In his opinion, all of the beaches in Coronado were going to be the same, as long as the two of you didn't attempt to walk down the cliffs beach with her yet. "I think we should just go to the closest beach for a little bit and then head home again."

You sighed in annoyance. "Just for a little bit? Well then what was the point of packing all of this shit?"

Bradley desperately wanted to scold you for swearing in front of the baby, but he used every fiber of his being to press his lips together and clear his throat. "It's the Nugget's first time at any beach. We're just going to have to see how long she lasts before we need to bring her back."

"Fine," you replied, picking up the bag of sandwiches you packed and heading for the front door. "I just wish I knew why babies required so much stuff. Nothing about this is easy."

He followed in your wake. "I'm pretty sure all the babies of the world got together and plotted against their parents, because all of it is hard." At least that got a smile out of you as you plunked your sunglasses onto your nose, and he followed you out to the porch. "Let's just leave the stoller here. I like carrying her."

It was actually so beautiful outside, Bradley was thankful it was a Saturday. You took his hand in yours, waving at the neighbors along the way. "You look stupid sexy with that baby carrier on, Roo."

"Stupid sexy?" he muttered, adjusting the little sun hat on Rose's head. "Explain."

"I tried," you groaned. "But you don't listen, Bradley. You're a DILF. Even the way you're taking care of Rose is hot. Like you're already handsome, but now you're just oozing so much sex appeal, it's stupid. Like an ovary explosion." You made a sound like a bomb blowing up and gestured with your hands in front of you as you walked.

"Yeah... I don't see it," he murmured, reaching for your hand again. When he looked in the mirror now, he saw more gray hair and quite a few wrinkles, but that didn't stop him from trying to be the best dad he could. "I'm just focused on Rosie. You and Rosie. My girls."

You gave him side eye. "That's what makes it stupid," you muttered. "You know what, it doesn't matter." You kissed Rose's fingers as the entrance to the beach came into view. "Hey, little Nugget," you whispered as her eyes fluttered open. "Welcome to the beach."

The expanse of sand and the glittering water beyond were so bright, Bradley shielded her face, and she burrowed against him. "It's okay, Rosie," he murmured, kissing her hat as he hustled along the mostly empty beach. "Daddy's got you. I'll get you set up with some shade. I like the shade better, too."

It was a joint effort, the way you held the baby while Bradley ran around, setting up a canopy and laying out blankets and towels. "You're stupid sexy, too," he said as you distracted him for about the tenth time. "You know that, right?" You didn't verbally respond, but you did look pleased with yourself as you set Rose down on the beach blanket, fully in the shade. 

"Do you want to take her down to the water?" you asked, looking up at him.

He shot you an incredulous look as he took his shirt off. "Are you out of your mind? The waves are massive! Something could happen to her!"

Now you were doubled over in laughter on the blanket next to her. "It's not like I suggested that you take her surfing, Roo! Just carry her down to the water's edge!"

He was still hesitant. "Okay. But just for a quick look." Bradley scooped up his daughter, who always looked delighted to have him around, and he carried her slowly down the beach until the cool water met his toes. "This is as far as we go," he whispered, kissing her cheek as she closed her eyes. "Until you've had swimming lessons." He felt your hand on his back, and he turned to you and asked, "When can Rosie take swim lessons?"

"Bradley, she's less than a month old."

"That's probably when future olympians start," he mused as you rubbed sunblock all over his back and shoulders. You were standing in front of him now, laughing and swiping the lotion on his nose when an older woman stopped walking along the beach to approach you.

"You have a beautiful family," she said, smiling at Rose who was currently yawning.

"Thank you," Bradley replied, turning a bit so she could get a closer look. When she offered to take a photo of the three of you, he had you reach into the pocket of his cutoff jean shorts and unlock his phone for her.

Bradley looked ridiculous in the picture with windswept hair and streaks of sunblock on his face and shoulders, but you and Rose both made it his new favorite photo. He set it as his phone wallpaper.

---------------------------

"Am I doing this right?"

Cam was sitting on your living room couch, holding Rose with a look of sheer panic on his face. 

"No," Maria told him. "You're not. And you look constipated."

You started laughing and didn't even try to hide it. "Just hold her against your chest, and she'll probably fall asleep. She's definitely a snuggler."

He did as he was told, but there was still a firm crease along his forehead. "Babies are terrifying," he muttered, letting you adjust his hands for him.

Bradley was still at work, having agreed to teach another dog fighting drill with Maverick, and you were thankful your friends were keeping you company. It wouldn't be too much longer before you were back at work yourself, where you would be able to see your friends more frequently.

You watched Maria stand and kind of limp into your kitchen. "Does anyone else want a drink?"

"Absolutely not," Cam replied. "I need to keep two hands on the baby at all times."

He got an eye roll in response from you as you told Maria, "Sure, and I also need you to tell me why you're limping. Are you okay?"

A devilish smirk found her lips. "Maybe you should ask Bob about that one."

"Ew," Cam replied. "Unless I'm the one getting plowed by an aviator, I don't need to know any details." When you opened your mouth to say something, he quickly added, "You're just as bad as Maria, so don't even start with me. Just let me be afraid of holding your child in peace."

Then he settled back against the couch with Rose, and you joined Maria in the kitchen. "You're like seriously limping," you whispered, and she snickered.

"It's not what you think. I just can't resist giving Cam a hard time. Bob and I were in the shower together, and I pulled a muscle."

"Maria," you hissed. "You were in the shower with Bob, and you expect me to believe it wasn't sexual?"

"I wasn't," she insisted, getting two glasses of water ready and handing you one. "I just... ever since he got back from his deployment... I really like being around him as much as possible."

You knew how Bob looked at her. Like she was a mermaid. Or a fairy. Something magical and unbelievable. Maria wasn't known to be gushy or sappy, but she talked about him like he hung the moon, and that was all you needed to know.

"I'm happy for you."

She smiled just as you heard Cam gasp and start freaking out. "I think the baby pooped! Cancel that- I know the baby pooped! I need backup!"

By the time Bradley got home from work, you had dinner in the oven, and you were nursing Rose on the couch. Your husband looked exhausted but freshly showered with damp hair, and he made a beeline directly for you. He kissed your forehead and then her tiny fist. 

"You alright, Roo?"

"I had a long day," he whispered. You were a little worried that something happened that made him seem so tired, but he smiled as he said, "But your appointment with Dr. Morris later this week is going to make it all worth it. I can't wait to hear her tell me I'm allowed to fuck my wife."

"You're so horny!" you complained half heartedly as he kissed your cheek before heading into the kitchen to take dinner out of the oven as the timer went off.

"Six weeks is a long time when you've got your tits out all day and all night."

Truthfully, there were times when you were positively aching to be with him like that, but there were moments when you couldn't understand how he still wanted you. Your stretch marks were wild, and you looked so flabby and weird. You had no idea how you'd manage to lose the weight you gained when your whole world revolved around pumping and feeding Rose, and on top of that, you'd be back at work soon and busier than ever.

You heard Bradley's groan of delight from the kitchen as he took a bite of dinner. "This is delicious, but still not as delectable as you, Baby Girl."

Even when your brain told you not to believe him, your heart did.

----------------------------

Bradley insisted on accompanying you to your six week checkup with Dr. Morris. He sat in one of the chairs in the exam room with Rose all wrapped up like a burrito in his arms, careful not to get her perfect face too close to his hard insignia pins. He watched as you got a pelvic exam, and then the doctor pushed on your belly while you made a face of discomfort. He held Rose a little tighter when you tried to smile at him.

"Everything feels and looks good. You can head back to work next week," Dr. Morris said as she removed her latex gloves. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Bradley listened to you rattle off several questions which rolled into a fresh conversation with your doctor. He really didn't want to be the one to ask about intercourse, but now you were sort of smirking at him. Okay, you were treating this like a game, toying with him. He was absolutely down for that, and it wasn't like he hadn't completely embarrassed himself in front of your physician before.

"If neither of you have any other questions, you're free to go-"

"Actually, Dr. Morris, I do have one last question." He cleared his throat and stood with Rose while you started to get dressed, trying to hide your smile from him. "I'd really like to have sex with my wife as soon as possible. Is that six weeks postpartum rule hard-and-fast, or would tonight be suitable for that kind of thing?"

You were hiding your smile behind your hand, but he could tell you were laughing as Dr. Morris humored him. "Well, the guidelines say six weeks, so I would absolutely stick to that. We like to make sure proper healing has occurred. If you don't start taking oral contraceptives right away, I would definitely advise you to use condoms." She glanced at your chart and added, "Two more days probably won't kill anyone, and at that point, you'll be at six weeks."

"Speak for yourself," he grunted, slipping Rose back into her car seat carrier. "Thanks, doc."

"Two more days," you told him as the three of you walked out to the red Bronco. "You're doing great, Daddy."

Bradley groaned as he buckled both of you in, and he pulled out of the parking lot without another word.

You shouldn't have been surprised, but you definitely were when, two nights later, his phone alarm started blaring at one in the morning. You were just settling back in bed after feeding Rose when you looked at him with wide eyes. "Wait, did we forget to do something?" you asked. "What's the alarm for?"

Bradley simply held up his phone screen for you to see the alarm which was titled My wife is exactly 6 weeks postpartum.

You rolled onto your side, cackling with laughter. "It's not funny, Baby Girl. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time." He snuggled under the covers and said, "I'm ready to get my world rocked whenever you feel like rocking it, so you just let me know."

His eyes were closed when he felt your lips ghost along his cheek on their way to kiss him. "Why not right now?"

----------------------------------

Let this man fuck! Let him fuck his wife! He earned it. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

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[theother-victoria]

all stars must die one day

SYNOPSIS: it’s always been him- stupidly perfect and handsome Alhaitham who you saw as the bane of your academic achievements. Three years later and now so much has changed. He misses you. He misses your endless bickering and meaningless fights. Why did you change so much? It’s a mystery he makes up his mind to resolve.

CHARACTERS: Alhaitham, gossip circle consisting of Kaveh, Tighnari, and Lisa + the rest of the Sumeru cast

TAGS: heavy angst w/fluff, academic burnout, burnt-out gifted kid, mild profanity, gn reader, reader is briefly mentioned to be shorter than Alhaitham, toxic family dynamics, 15.7k+ word count

NOTES: college decisions and my experiences from the past two years really compelled me to write this. If you’re going through burnout, know that you’re not alone and that you can do this.

this took me almost half a year to finish wtf

NEXT | LAST

There’s a comet that crosses Sumeru’s skies only once in a lifetime. 

Alhaitham had heard some Rtawahsit students discussing it the other day. They were practically buzzing with excitement over the news of its reappearance.

“Isn’t this the perfect opportunity?”

“How lucky are we to be able to witness it?”

“Even our professors are excited about it!”

Alhaitham couldn’t care less. The phenomena of celestial events, while dazzling, are easily explained by science. It’s not like they were anything special either. At their heart, they’re composed of ordinary materials- rock, dust, water, and ice, plus other chemicals. 

He puts it out of his mind until he’s rudely awoken one night by loud noises outside the window. A flash of annoyance runs through him as he gets up and looks out to glare at the crowd of students passing through. A glance at their berets tells him they’re Rtawahsit students. They’re trying their best to be quiet, but when it’s practically an entire Darshan on the move, that becomes a difficult task. 

It seems as if he’s not the only one that was woken up. Other familiar faces are peeking through cracked-open windows. Lisa, Cyno, and Tighnari all yawn while watching the crowd of students pass by before looking at each other and following them. Kaveh, who has just woken up from his spot across the room, gives Alhaitham one last look before leaving.

Alhaitham closes the window and flops back onto his bed. He covers his ears with his pillow and closes his eyes, attempting to fall back asleep. He never cared for what other people thought or did, so why should he blindly follow the crowd? He wasn’t even curious anyway.

But for some strange reason, he can’t seem to fall asleep. He tosses and turns, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration, before finally getting up to put his restless mind at ease. 

It’s easy to figure out where everyone has gone. All he has to do is follow the sounds of chatter. It leads him to the top of the Divine Tree the city is built upon. There, Rtawahsit students are busy setting up their telescopes while others have pen and paper at their disposal for note-taking. Professors guide said students while those from other Darshans watch on in curiosity and gaze at the sky in anticipation. 

Tighnari and the others beckon him over. He squeezes himself into the secluded corner they claimed for themselves, poking Kaveh with his limbs intentionally in the process. To his surprise, you’re there too. You lean against Lisa’s arm and shoot him a little glare that lacks any real hate before turning back to the sky, glaring at him when he decides to sit in front of you and block your view. 

“Look!” shouts a student. “It’s started!”

Almost immediately, everybody goes silent. Only the sounds of birds and wildlife can be heard, along with the quiet breathing of everyone searching wildly for it.

(He’s acutely aware of the warm puffs of air that tickle the back of his neck when you exhale. It shouldn’t be this distracting, but it is. Is this your way of getting back at him?)

There’s an excited gasp from a girl with her telescope. She wildly gestures toward the sky and Alhaitham sees a bright speck of light out of the corner of his eye. Several smaller meteors zip through the sky, but everybody’s attention is on the largest one. It outshines all the other stars in the sky as it speeds by, heating up into a white-hot glow and leaving a glittering trail of blue stardust behind. It is a star not of this world, speeding onward toward its destination- toward something greater. 

“Look,” he hears Lisa whisper. He briefly tears his attention from the sky to see her lean toward you. “Make a wish.”

Alhaitham sees you close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. What did you just wish for?

It’s gone in just a few minutes, heading toward the horizon until not even a pinprick of its light can be seen anymore. The sky is now dark again. With the main event over, most people begin getting up to return to their rooms. His eyes linger on your form, now walking away. Lisa’s voice from earlier repeats in his head.

“Make a wish.”

It’s a childish belief not rooted in reason- he knows that. But for just a second, he closes his eyes and makes a wish. 

He met you at the start of his first year. 

It’s too loud here. I want to go home already.

From his seat in the back of the room, he watches as spots gradually fill up as the start time draws nearer. Much to his delight, everybody leaves his spot in the back of the classroom alone, instead opting to sit toward the front. 

That is until someone sits down in the row in front of him. He looks up from the pages of his book, slightly annoyed. Curses, now he couldn’t be by himself anymore. But they leave him alone and keep to themselves as the professor walks in and introduces himself and the class, so he tolerates it. 

There’s a light tap on his desk. He looks up to see you watching him expectantly. He’s able to get his first good look at you now. Your Akademiya uniform is a little too big on you and the sleeves drape over your hands. Your green hat sits lopsidedly on your head and you have the air of a starry-eyed and enthusiastic first-year student. 

“Yes?” 

“The professor told us to introduce ourselves to those around us,” you explain. “I’m (Name).”

“Alhaitham. Pleased to meet you.”

You nod in response and turn back around. Your professor is explaining the course and handing the syllabus out, but your mind wanders toward the guy sitting behind you whom you’ve just met. 

He’s cute, you think to yourself. In like, a little kid or puppy kind of way. He’s still a little short and scrawny- wait, how old is he anyway? Don’t tell me he’s one of those child prodigies that got in at a super young age… Or maybe he’s just a late bloomer, who knows? 

A few weeks later, the results of your first test roll around. The 98 scribbled and circled in red ink at the top of the paper makes you nod in satisfaction. It’s indicative of a good start, but when you take a look at the board in front of the class, you see someone has gotten a perfect score. 

And it turns out the culprit himself sits right behind you. 

You glare at the 100% in red ink at the top of his page as if it has personally offended you. As if to further insult you, there was a small “good job!” written in the margins by the professor that you didn’t have on your paper. 

“A 98? Good, but not perfect. Perhaps you should have studied more,” he nonchalantly remarks after seeing yours. Your eye twitches in irritation.

Oh, it is so on. 

From that day onward, you swore to yourself that you would beat Alhaitham, no matter what it took. Even if it meant sleepless nights spent hunched over your notes and textbooks, they were all a price you were willing to pay to prove that you were the undisputed best. 

Soon after, you don’t see Alhaitham in class anymore. His seat behind you is left unoccupied and you hear rumors that he opted for self-study instead- whatever that was. Despite that, he still gets top marks in everything, only serving to annoy you and spur you onward. 

However, you still see him at the library, and frequently at that. It’s somewhat surprising, considering that the Akasha Terminal has the same function and is more convenient. As a result, the library is mostly empty save for the few students that are there to study materials that aren’t entered into the Akasha’s database. You’re there because you prefer the quiet, focused environment of the library to your dorm, which despite the Akademiya and its students' almost religious devotion to academics, can get a little too rowdy for your liking at times. Plus, you prefer the feeling of a physical book in your hands over its digitized counterpart in the Akasha. It makes it easier to take notes and learn that way. 

Recently, you’ve found a spot in the library that you’ve taken a liking to. It’s located in the back and obscured by bookshelves, giving you some much-needed privacy while you study and it’s located by a window, allowing for ample natural light.

But apparently, someone else has already claimed it, unbeknownst to you. 

“This is my spot.”

You don’t even look up from your book. The voice alone was a dead giveaway as to who was speaking. 

“And? I didn’t see your name on it.”

Alhaitham sits at the seat across from you, purposefully spreading his books and other materials across the desk to push yours off to the side. A satisfied smirk twitches at the corners of his lips when he sees your eyes narrow in irritation. 

“Are you here just to bother me?”

“If I wanted to bother you, I’d find other ways to do it.” 

You huff in annoyance and turn the page. He watches you over the top of his book with intrigue as you alternate between reading and taking notes. 

“... Will you quit staring at me like that? It’s distracting.”

“Oh? So you’re admitting that I’m a distraction?”

“You-!”

A sharp hiss to be quiet from a librarian passing by silences you both temporarily. You glare at him accusingly, which he merely brushes off.

There’s a reluctant compromise that arises between you after that. Every day after class, you would meet at the same spot in the library to study. You would sit across from each other and work independently from each other until it was time to go, where you’d then say your goodbyes before heading your separate ways. Rinse and repeat and that was what your average day looked like. 

“So, what’s up with that thing between you and (Name)?”

You pause from your studying after overhearing that line and look up. Across the clearing are Alhaitham and a blond-haired man. Kaveh, if you recall his name correctly. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” replies Alhaitham. 

“Is there some sort of competition between you two? Whenever I see you guys, you’re basically at each other’s throats over test scores and stuff.”

“There is no such competition. That would be a pointless waste of my time and energy.” 

The urge to throw your book at his head across the clearing is strong, but you’ll settle for Kaveh giving him a doubtful expression.

“You say that and yet you’ve been putting more work into your studies than ever.” 

“That’s none of your business.” 

But for all your efforts, you can’t seem to catch up to him. He was always one step- or rather, one point- ahead of you. He’d always be there, subtly rubbing his achievements right in your face even though the difference is practically negligible at least half of the time. 

It gets to the point where you begin to rant about your troubles to Lisa. 

“Can you believe this guy? It makes me wonder if he’s a sadist of some sort that gets a kick out of annoying me.” 

You’re sitting outside in one of the many gazebos around the Akademiya. Despite studying under a different Darshan, you quickly became friends with her.

She laughs lightly at your words.

“To me, it sounds like your poor heart is troubled! Shall doctor Lisa perform a checkup on you?”

You swat her hand away.

“Don’t play with me like that. And you’re not even an Amurta student!”

You hear footsteps coming down the pathway and speak of the devil, the topic of your conversation is walking toward you, his book in hand as always. You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze and holds it for several long, agonizing seconds before looking forward again and disappearing out of sight. You shudder and look away, Lisa chuckling lightly at your actions.

“Asshole,” you grumble. “What’s his problem? And did you see how cold his eyes were? Makes me wonder if the rumors of him having a heart of ice are true…” 

Lisa hesitates at that. 

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong, (Name).”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

She purses her lips and looks off to the side. 

“It’s hard to explain, even for me. But you’ll see and come to understand in due time how acutely aware he is of the emotions of those around him, especially those he is close to.”

You think you understand the meaning of her words a few weeks later when the results of a particularly rough test greet you.

75%

Damn it, you think before roughly shoving the papers into your bag, away from the prying eyes of your classmates. I can’t falter here now. I still have so much more to do.

“I can tutor you if you’d like. I don’t offer this to just anyone, so I’d advise you to consider it,” Alhaitham says in the library later that day. You know that most people would kill for this opportunity and you weren’t blinded by jealousy to the point where you couldn’t see the benefit of his offer. 

But your pride prevents you from accepting it.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’d rather do this myself.” 

Another time, Alhaitham has to get up at a time when he should be asleep. Earlier that day, he had left a book of his behind and forgotten about it until now, leaving him to search the now-dark and empty halls of the Akademiya for where it might be. 

He happens to pass by the House of Daena on the way and sees a solitary lamp lit in the back corner where he usually frequents. Out of sheer curiosity, he steps inside to see there’s a familiar figure hunched over the desk, clearly fast asleep with piles upon piles of books and notes stacked around them. 

Alhaitham gazes down at you with his ever-impassive eyes, silently wondering what to do next. A cold gust of air blows through the library and he shivers slightly. He looks down at your exposed arms, then at his jacket, before taking it off and draping it over your form. Catching a cold would serve you no good and you’d most likely return it to him later tomorrow. 

Before he leaves, his curiosity gets the better of him and he takes a quick peek at your notes. 

His eyes widen ever so slightly. Much of the material scattered around your desk was far ahead of what you were and needed to be learning. Did you borrow these books and notes from upperclassmen? The handwriting is a mix of yours and someone else’s… He doesn’t see the point in you doing so- it’s all just unnecessary work, in his opinion. Either way, it’s none of his business and you can do as you please, but Alhaitham can’t help but wonder if you were doing all of this just to stay ahead- to keep up or even surpass him.

He leaves and you wake up soon after to something warm and soft covering your shoulders. It’s a standard Akademiya-issued jacket for the fall and winter terms. It’s way too big on you and the sleeves completely cover your hands. Curiously, you pull it tighter around your form. It smells nice- like old books and coffee- and you suddenly realize who it belongs to. Your face suddenly flushes and it’s not from the warmth of the jacket.

Alhaitham-!

The next day, Alhaitham arrives at his usual spot in the library. You’re sitting across from him as usual and interestingly refuse to make eye contact with him.

Sumeru’s climate has always been temperate, but the days are getting longer and warmer now. You’ve finally shed your winter uniform for your spring one and with the end of the year rapidly approaching comes major tests. The library is the most packed it's ever been with students everywhere cramming last-minute. It’s rare to find an empty table now, but thankfully your spot in the back with Alhaitham is still left unoccupied. If not, Alhaitham’s cold glare is more than enough to scare them away. 

For one of your classes, it’s a project instead of a test. You have the option to choose the type of project, but for some stupid reason, your professor was still assigning partners instead of being able to choose.

“And (Name), let’s see… hmm, I’ll pair you up with Alhaitham. How does that sound?”

Your blood runs cold and you hear your classmates snicker around you. You want to scream at the prospect of it. Sumeru would sooner freeze over before the two of you cooperate and he knows it. You catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, daring you to say no. 

You swallow your pride and nod. The tips of your ears burn and at that moment, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. 

“... That sounds fine.”

How humiliating.

Later that day in the library, he’s even more infuriating than normal, if that’s even possible. His face betrays nothing but you can hear the smugness dripping from his voice and mannerisms. His arms crossed in front of his chest, the way he would subtly look down on you with that know-it-all gaze… it all made you want to punch his (handsome) face. 

“Don’t fall behind now,” he says once you’ve finally settled on a project.

“Let’s see if you can even keep up with me.” 

Your project is relatively straightforward but involves a lot of cooperation between you two. As you work, it becomes an all-too-common sight to see you arguing everywhere you go, much to the irritation of others.

“I’m telling you, this character has to be symbolic of rebirth! Why else would we see it so concentrated in scripts that were dated toward the end of that civilization?”

“You seem to be forgetting that this has also been seen elsewhere. Besides, there are reasons to believe that it means something else.”

“What, did it get lost in translation? If you think you’re so smart, then go ahead and enlighten me.” 

You glare at him as he sips his coffee (with milk and two sugars, you note. Just the way he likes it). 

“God, can they just kiss already?” grumbles Kaveh from where he sits across the room. Lisa and Tighnari sitting at the same table nodded in agreement.

“Meeting up to work outside of class is normal, but over lunch? Sounds like a date to me,” complains Tighnari while not-so-subtly eyeing the way you animatedly bicker with him. 

“Hey, isn’t this Alhaitham’s treat as well?” asks Kaveh. Tighnari’s ears twitch and perk up at his question. He glances at the both of you- Alhaitham just paused to ask if you’d like a refill of your tea, and you said yes- before groaning.

“It sure looks like it…”

Lisa decides to take matters into her own hands.

“Are you two arguing or flirting?” she asks in a loud voice.

“Arguing!” you retort. Alhaitham merely rolls his eyes and steals one of your samosas while you aren’t looking. 

“I saw that! Give it back!”

“Too late.” 

Two months, lots of bickering, and lots of coffee later, you present the culmination of your work to the class. For all the headaches and lost sleep you had to endure, your efforts are handsomely rewarded with a perfect score and rare compliments from your professor. And for that alone, it was well worth everything you went through. 

“Good job. It was a rewarding experience working with you. I daresay that our arguments aside, we make for a decent team.” 

You look up to see Alhaitham.

“Oh? A rare compliment from the stoic and sharp-tongued man himself?”

“Don’t make me retract my words.”

“Ouch, how cold of you.” 

When you return to your dorm later that night, there’s a note addressed to you from Lisa.

I overheard one of your professors talking about you and Alhaitham with someone else today- Professor Behnam, I think that was his name? I’m fairly sure this was after you guys presented because they mentioned that briefly. I wrote this down in a hurry as they were speaking, but here’s what he said:

They complement each other perfectly. While they both have unmatched erudition and wit, one has the creativity and uninhibited ambition the other tends to lack. However, he is more pragmatic and logical. Despite their differences, they make for a perfect team.

They will surely be among some of the best scholars the Akademiya has seen in a long time.

You end your first year tied for the top of the class with him.

“I’m home!”

“Welcome home, (Name)! How were your last few weeks at the Akademiya?”

Your parents’ home is as warm and welcoming as always. The house has been freshly cleaned and is practically shining. They take your bags and usher you into the kitchen, where your favorite dishes are sitting on the kitchen table, freshly cooked for dinner with steam still rising from them.

“It’s been fine,” you say. “Stressful, but also enjoyable. I like my classes and I get along with my classmates and professors.” 

“How are your grades? Have they been finalized yet?”

You nod and beam them with pride.

“Ended the year at the top of the class.”

Your parents’ eyes widen and they clap excitedly.

“That’s our child!”

“As brilliant and talented as always!”

“Good, keep going! Remember to study for money!”

“I will!”

Your mother leans in close and clasps your hand in hers. “After these four years, you should continue your education and become a sage! Maybe even work your way up and become the next Grand Sage!”

You balk at the prospect of it.

“A-A sage? Mom, there are tons of talented people in the Akademiya- that’s where the best of the best go to study! The chances that I’ll make it to that point are slim!”

Your father clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“Nonsense!” he exclaims. “You ended this year at the top of your class, you know. Besides, you inherited the intelligence of both your parents- I’d imagine that this would be a doable task for you. Also, imagine how amazing it would be if you were to become a sage! You’d be the first one in the family! Wouldn’t that be such an achievement for us?”

“That’s not even true! There was someone else who tied with me for the top of the class as well and if I’m being honest, he has a better shot at it than me!”

Your mom’s eyes sharpen and you instantly regret saying that. 

“He? So… a guy, huh?”

You mentally brace yourself for a barrage of questions.

“What’s his name? What’s he like? How smart is he? Is he good enough for you? Does he have-”

“Dear, stop it,” your father says. “Look, you’re overwhelming them.”

You sigh and shake your head. “For starters, his name is Alhaitham-”

“Alhaitham? I’ve heard that name somewhere before… wait, I remember now!” exclaims your father. “His grandmother was a Ksharewar scholar. His mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and his father was a mentor in Haravatat.”

“Was?” you ask. Your father bites his lip and looks away.

“... His grandmother passed away a few years ago and from what I heard, so did his parents when he was young.” 

“Oh.” 

The kitchen is silent for a few moments before your father breaks it.

“Wait, (Name), why do you look so surprised? I thought you knew this already, considering he’s your rival and everything! I thought you would at least know something about him.”

“Dad, that’s exactly the point- we’re rivals and I don’t want to know anything about him! All that matters is beating him at his own game and that’s that. Besides, he never tells me anything about his personal life, so why should I do the same?”

“They’re right, you know.”

Your father merely rolls his eyes at your mother’s remark. 

“You know the rules, don’t get too close to him now,” your mother warns. “You have to do whatever it takes to be the best, whatever? That’s what you promised us.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, mom, I know. I’ll do my best to become a sage.”

Your parents lean in to hold you close, your mother giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“That’s our child. Make us proud, ok?”

“I will!”

After a lovely three months of summer vacation (and not being forced to see Alhaitham every day save for the rare occasions where you’d run into him in public- you’d immediately turn the other way and act as if nothing happened), you head back to the Akademiya for your second year. Like last year, you share many of your classes with the bane of your existence, although things are… less tense than they were before. The underlying spark of competition is still there, but not as prominent as before.

Alhaitham is pleasantly surprised at how you’ve mellowed out over the summer. Something in your eyes has hardened and the way your mouth is set is different now. You’ve lost some of the baby fat in your cheeks (shame, he enjoyed poking and prodding at them, much to your annoyance) and you’ve grown a bit taller as well. He’s grown taller as well and to your irritation, he’s gaining on you. He’s put on some muscle as well and according to Kaveh, who you befriended over the summer, he’s started learning the art of the sword.

(“What for?” you had asked back then. He had merely shrugged.

“Too much free time on his hands, I guess. I thought he was training to be a mercenary at first.”

“I just can’t imagine him with a sword. In my mind, I see him toppling over from the weight of it.”

“Same here.”)

On the first day back, you merely greet him with a nod and you’re less opposed to working with him than before- although you can’t seem to break the habit of making a sarcastic jab at him now and then.

As the year progresses though, Alhaitham notices a change in you- namely, your test scores. He catches a glimpse of them sticking out of your folder at the library.

85%. 75%. 83%. 79%. They’re not as good as they were last year but they aren’t a concern for Alhaitham. As far as he knows, you’re still doing good overall and your classes are getting harder. It’s only reasonable and he hasn’t observed any noticeable or drastic changes in your personality, so it doesn’t warrant any concern. 

That is, in his eyes. The same can’t be said for you though.

You didn't realize how much time you had spent studying until the library was closed one day. Sitting at your cramped desk with your roommate you barely know nowhere in sight, you’re suddenly aware of how quiet it is. Normally, you’d hear at least something- people arguing down the hall and music playing, among others. But today, it was eerily silent. 

From the back of your mind, you recall news of a party that was supposed to be happening around this time. Lisa extended an invitation to you but you turned it down, claiming that you had to study. It was a bullshit excuse, now that you think about it. 

(Lisa had looked at you knowingly when you said that, but not in a good way. Worry was present in her eyes, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t do anything.

“Alright,” she had said. “Just… don’t head down the path I think you’re on.”)

Your pen freezes mid-stroke as a horrifying thought crosses your mind. You now finally understand the true meaning of her words. 

Have I… been making the right decisions? How much have I missed out on? 

Your books and the allure of good grades tempt you, but you force yourself to evaluate your life so far. You have some of the highest marks in the entire class but you realize you have almost no experience or connections, and that was what really mattered.

All of the studying in the world can’t compare to pulling a few strings, after all.  

Not long after the year starts, Alhaitham notices that you’ve started going out more. You’re spending less of your time at the library during weekends and instead spending time with friends in the city. 

(“You actually have a life outside of the Akademiya. I’m surprised.”

“I should be the one telling you that.”)

 “Come on, (Name), come join us at the tavern tonight! We booked the place and everyone is going to be there! You’re missing out if you don’t, just saying…”

The familiar voice belonging to a certain blond makes you look up. You huff a sigh and set your notes down to glare at Kaveh, who has been pestering you to go to a party at Lambad’s Tavern tonight. You’re about to tell him you’re not interested when you stop just short of saying so.

Will I regret saying no?

“(Name), you’re young right now! Take some risks and live life a little, otherwise, you’ll have nothing to look back fondly on once you’re all old and wrinkly! That old dusty rock-of-a-friend Alhaitham would say the same thing, you know… although, maybe he’d phrase it differently.”

Kaveh’s right, you realize. I can make up a test. I can always study later. But I’m only young for a little while. I can’t make up for lost time. 

“Just curious- what’s in it for me?”

“Oh, the usual. Free food, entertainment, a break from these stupid books, alcohol- oh, and you might get to see a rare drunk Alhaitham there! Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

“No need to venture into that territory. You already had me at the free food part. So, what time?”

Later that evening at the tavern, you realize Kaveh wasn’t kidding when he said everyone was going to be there- he really did mean everyone the moment you step inside. Lisa is the center of attention with wide-eyed students gawking at her alcohol tolerance- seriously, how is she not drunk yet?- while Tighnari stands in the corner with his ears folded over and eyes squeezed shut. Cyno’s glare is more than enough to scare anyone away as he leads the fox hybrid upstairs toward a quieter spot. 

There’s enough alcohol being passed around to knock a Sumpter Beast unconscious. You only have a few drinks, not wanting to be hungover on a weekday. At one point, a familiar voice drifts its way over to you.

“(Name), over here!”

It’s Kaveh, and… Alhaitham next to him is drunk from the looks of it? His face is flushed and he stumbles as he walks with Kaveh being the only thing stopping him from faceplanting onto the floor. 

“I thought Alhaitham could handle his alcohol?” you ask as you sling one of his arms around your shoulder and make your way out the tavern. 

“He does, but he tried a new type of alcohol tonight that was stronger than he expected. Fire-something… it’s from Snezhnaya, if that explains anything.”

You glance at his heavily flushed face again and sigh.

“Yeah, that explains everything.”

After lugging Alhaitham across Sumeru City and up the many steps leading to the Akademiya, you’re prepared to say goodnight to Kaveh and head back to your dorm when you feel something latch onto your shirt. It’s Alhaitham and even in his drunken stupor, he’s surprisingly strong.  

“Wait.”

“What is it?” you ask after a moment of hesitation. His answer is instant.

“Don’t go,” he slurs out. 

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. Don’t take anything he says at face value.

But even so, you spot the opportunity to tease him. 

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because… you’re one of my only friends.”

You go quiet at that. Nothing could have prepared you for that response. Every witty remark and sarcastic jab you had prepared on the tip of your tongue fizzled out instantly. Even Kaveh, who has no shortage of words when it comes to Alhaitham, falls silent. 

In the year or so that you’ve known Alhaitham for, he’s never been one to get close with people, instead preferring to keep them at arm’s length. Most likely, it’s the alcohol inhibiting his filter, but you can’t ignore the little flutter in your stomach at his words. 

“I guess you are one to me as well, Haitham. I-”

“Say that again.”

His sudden demand makes you pause. Despite his drunken state, there’s a fire in his eyes that briefly makes you question whether he’s sober.

“... I guess you are one-”

He stops you. “No. Not that. Repeat what you said at the very end of it.”

“Haitham?”

“Call me that again.”

“Haitham.”

“Again.”

A smile creeps onto your face now that you’ve finally caught on. How cute. 

“Haitham.”

“Again.”

And secretly inside, you’re happy. Happy that someone considers you a friend for the first time. You no longer feel dehumanized from idolization or isolated from everyone else and you realize it’s what you’ve been secretly wishing for this whole time. 

“Goodnight, Haitham.”

It’s now a common occurrence between you two to drag each other to activities on the weekends. One day, it’s Alhaitham camping out with you late at night to go stargazing. (“(Name), this is boring.” “You can go home if you want. I won’t stop you.” “Hmph.”) Another day, it’s him inviting you to the various coffee shops throughout the city and sampling their beverages. (“The shop we went to last week does a pour-over better.” “You think so too?”)

Another time, you’re heading back to the Akademiya after a day of shopping and playing Genius Invocation (he lost miserably several times in a row to you, much to his embarrassment). It’s been overcast the whole day and the air has been humid but you nervously brushed off the weather’s warning signs.

Something wet lands on your cheek. You blink and look up, then at the ground where raindrops are rapidly dotting the surface. You meet Alhaitham’s gaze, the rising panic in your eyes apparently visible because he pulls you toward the souvenir shop, where you both seek shelter against the escalating downpour. Sheets of rain crash against the ground and the sides of buildings and the gusts of wind make the trees sway violently. 

(You both, like idiots, forgot to bring your umbrellas. In the middle of Sumeru’s rainy season.) 

You can barely see past your two feet but you can make out something moving nearby, and it’s getting closer. Small, gray, and most definitely sopping wet, it’s… a cat?

The small creature pauses and runs as fast as it can toward you. You take your hat off and scoop it up, where it meows pitifully and sneezes. A quick check tells you that the cat is a girl. 

“(Name), what-”

“Look, Haitham,” you whisper as you shrug your jacket off and dry the cat. “Poor baby must have gotten stranded and lost in the rain. She came running to us for help.”

The cat shakes off the last of the rain clinging to her fur and now you can see that she resembles Alhaitham quite a bit with her gray fur and green eyes. You wonder if she has his attitude as well… 

“I wonder if she’s someone’s pet cat that ran away.” 

“She’s probably one of the city’s many strays. I don’t see a collar on her.”

“She’s well-fed for one…” you grumble, noting her plump belly. “So, can we keep her?”

“(Name), you know animals, unless they’re service animals, are not allowed in Akademiya dorms.”

“That hasn’t stopped people though. Someone on my floor snuck their pet cat into the dorms and it’s an open secret among all of us.”

“But still-”

And then you hit him with puppy eyes. The edges of your mouth quiver and turn down, while your eyes soften and go wide. 

“Please?”

His resolve crumbles instantly.

“Fine. But you’re keeping it.”

You sheepishly smile. “About that…”

What now?

“My roommate is a blabbermouth and a stickler for the rules. If I kept her, she would be gone and back on the streets before noon tomorrow.”

“Are you suggesting that I take care of her?”

“Are you against it?”

“Taking care of an animal is a big responsibility, (Name). One that requires time and-”

“I can help you take care of her. With the two of us looking after her, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being optimistic or oversimplifying the problem here.” 

You roll your eyes and Alhaitham looks off to the side.

“I’ll have to ask Kaveh-”

“Kaveh would be over the moon at the prospect of you bringing home a cat. You know how much he loves animals. This cat will be in good hands under his and our care.” 

Looks like he now has no other choice but to say yes. He heaves a deep sigh and looks back up at you.

“Fine. I’ll keep her in my room.” 

Your face lights up.

“But first, we need to give her a name.” 

You scrunch your brows and think for a moment.

“How about Thamina?”

“Thamina,” he repeats. “Meaning valuable or priceless. It fits well.” 

You become a frequent visitor to Kaveh and Alhaitham’s dorm after that. It gets to the point where Alhaitham gives you his copy of the spare key so you could come and go as you please (to which Kaveh gives him a knowing look that he pointedly ignores for his own sake). At first, you primarily visited to take care of Thamina, but at some point, you began visiting primarily for him. 

Study sessions slowly move from the House of Daena to his room, with him at his desk and you sitting on his bed. Thamina bears witness to the heated debates shared between you two in the late hours of the night and the quiet moments of studying. Alhaitham is there to keep her company throughout the day, but she patiently waits for you after a long day of classes. She watches as you two steal each other’s belongings and food (occasionally joining in if she smelled fish in the box you brought home from a late-night dinner). When there is a disagreement between you two, she’s there to help you reconcile in the form of demanding affection and cuddles. 

But when she and Kaveh are fast asleep, only you two are privy to the heavy conversations that happen once and are never brought up again. 

“Tell me more about your family, Haitham.” 

He freezes, then casts a suspicious glance at you over his shoulder.

“Where is this question coming from? And why?”

You shrug.

“I just wanted to know more about the people that raised you to become the person you are today.”

“... My grandmother raised me,” he says after a moment of hesitation. “I admittedly don’t know much about my parents- only that my mother was a renowned Vahumana scholar and my father was a mentor in Haravatat. They both died in an accident, thus leaving me under my grandmother’s care.”

You make yourself comfortable on his bed and nod, urging him to continue. 

“My grandmother was a Kshahrewar scholar. By the time I was born, she had already retired. As such, she had a lot of free time. We did a lot of things together.”

He pauses to recount his fading memories of her. 

“She liked to bake. Her desserts were on the sweeter side, but I have the recipes. I can tweak them so they’re less sweet for you.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“She liked to cook as well. I’d often wake up to the smell of food in the kitchen and she’d be there at the stove. She’d make my favorites and always save most of it or the best parts for me. Unlike with baking, she never used any recipes for her cooking. I’ve tried to imitate her dishes, but it’s never exactly the same as I remember.”

Haitham’s bed is comfy, you note. You pull the covers over yourself, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. 

“Were you a chubby child who was spoiled by grandma?” you tease.

“Yes,” he admits. 

You giggle. “I wish I could have seen you as a kid, chubby cheeks and all.” 

There are baby photos his grandma kept that he now has, but he’ll never tell you that. 

“Like you, she was more of a tea person than a coffee person. She liked hers sweetened while I liked mine more plain. She never knew where she left her reading glasses and she’d always ask me to find them. When I was younger, she’d read a bedtime story to me every night. If there was nothing we were doing, I’d spend the whole day on her lap as she read the books of my choosing aloud to me. One of the last things she told me was that I was so similar to my father, both in nature and appearance. And more than anything else, she was kind.”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

“Yes. I miss her a lot.”

“Your grandma sounds like an amazing person,” you sleepily mumble. “I would have liked to meet her.”

The last thing you hear before finally drifting off is Alhaitham’s whispered response.

“She would have liked to meet you too.”

And the next night, the conversation is equally as heavy.

“Hey, Haitham.”

“What is it?” he whispers back.

“Do you think that.. I don’t know, that I’m not quite who I used to be?”

Alhaitham sets his pen down.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Do you think I’ve changed in more ways than one?”

“Well, you’re less annoying now.”

You give him a well-deserved jab on the bicep with the end of your pen. Much to your annoyance, he doesn’t even flinch and continues. 

“The way I see it, change is inevitable. We all fight and run from it, but it eventually catches up with us. It is neither good nor bad. Rather, it’s what you make of it. But to answer your question, yes. You’ve matured more mentally. You’ve realized there’s more to life now. You’re learning how to live life on your own terms now, aren’t you?’

Your silence tells him everything he needs to know.��

“Tell me, Haitham. What do you wish for?”

Alhaitham is a simple man with few desires. If all his basic needs and simple wants of books and time to himself are met, then he is content. But your question has him thinking. Is there anything else he wants in his life? 

And it turns out the answer is yes. 

“Regardless of how things turn out in the future, I’d like to be able to continue talking to you like this. That’s my wish.”

Kaveh stirs in his sleep. Thamina rolls over and makes biscuits on your lap. A small smile creeps onto your face. You turn away and resume your work. He does the same.

It’s a mundane scene- two Akademiya students pulling another all-nighter to complete their work. And yet… 

Yes, this is what I want, Alhaitham thinks to himself. Everything I could ever want means nothing if you aren’t here. 

The spring semester comes around and with that comes the finals grind. You’ve thrown yourself into your studies in a last-minute attempt to save, in your opinion, your failing grades since you aren’t at the top of your class anymore. (Alhaitham thinks you’re insane- you’re still in the top five.) As if to rub it in your face, you get a letter from your family one day.

We heard that you’re no longer at the top of your class. What happened? 

Your eyes and mind glazed over the rest of the letter until the end.

Study harder. You can end it the same way you did last year if you would spend more time on it. Don’t get distracted now. 

A rare instance of frustration flashes through you and before you know it, you’ve ripped up the letter and tossed it in the trash. 

Who told them that anyway? 

“Lisa… graduated early?”

The news comes to you over dinner one day when you ask where Lisa is upon realizing she’s not there. You’ve just finished all your finals and you want nothing more than to relax and catch up on some sleep, but news regarding your best friend makes you temporarily forget about those plans. 

Cyno nods. “It’s a whole thing now. They’re saying she’s the best student the Akademiya has had in the past 200 years. Once in a generation is what they’re calling her now.”

You bite your lip and look away. A weak “tell her I said congratulations” is all you can get out as envy begins festering deep within you. You’re ashamed of yourself- she’s your best friend, for Archon’s sake, you should be feeling excited for her- but you just can’t.

Why couldn’t it have been me instead? 

You end your second year third in the class, with Alhaitham at the top.

“Welcome home, (Name).”

The house is a little chilly when you step inside. Dinner has already been prepared- it’s sitting on the table- but it looks like it was made some time ago. Your father ushers you into the kitchen, where your mother waits expectantly, her lips stretched into a thin smile when she sees you. 

There are the usual dinnertime conversations- how has your day been? Fine, yours? Same old, same old- but they feel stiffer than usual. It doesn’t flow and you find yourself internally wincing at the heavy silence between you.

“So.”

You pause and look up at your mother, who has finally broken the awkward silence surrounding the kitchen table.

“We heard you… didn’t do so well at the Akademiya this year.” 

You freeze and internally brace yourself for what is to come.

“Only third this year? (Name), you were first last year, how come you couldn’t place first again? That’s not so hard, is it? You just have to put some effort in, stop being so lazy, and you’ll do fine! Besides, it’s only your second year, what could be so difficult about it? We know you’re smart and that you could’ve easily been first again. You’re just getting complacent, that’s all! Do you really want that Alhaitham to beat you at your own game? How humiliating would that be for us? Think of the embarrassment we, your poor mother and father, would face from others in the Akademiya- our golden child (Name), who was once someone people aspired to be, but now nothing but a disappointment!”

“Your mother’s right, (Name),” says your father. “We have high expectations for you, or should I say, had.” 

Their disappointment cuts deep into your soul, yet something quietly snaps inside you. You glare at them one more time before slipping away.

“I’m not hungry anymore. I’ve lost my appetite.”

You go to your childhood room and lock the door behind you. Your parents’ voices- most definitely talking about you- drift up the stairs and you do your best to tune them out. As if to mock you, hanging on the wall across from you are all the awards you won at academic competitions throughout your life. Trophies, ribbons, certificates, and medals line every bit of space available, all of them with your name and a first-place title proudly engraved onto them.

Now that you think about it, were you really happy with being the best? Your younger self would laugh and say “of course!”, but why exactly? 

And then the realization hits you. You personally felt nothing being the best at everything. The title, the fake smiles, and the forced compliments from others- they couldn’t mean less to you.

You were only happy because your parents were happy. Were you ever happy with yourself- with who you were as a person? You don’t know.

Stars live for an incredibly long time, but they too must die out one day. Their reserves of hydrogen gas will inevitably run out and they will either go out with a bang or a fizzle depending on their size. Larger stars go out in a blaze of glory, expanding up to several times their size before exploding and bathing the universe in the remains of their supernova for eons to come, while smaller ones condense from the gravity pushing inward and shrink down into a cold white dwarf, destined to drift across the universe alone for the rest of time. That is your fate, yet you do not know it yet. The last of your fuel has finally been spent, and the end is nigh. Whether you will go out with a bang or fade into obscurity is something only time will tell. 

You’ve had enough of the stifling atmosphere in the house.

It’s only been a few days since summer vacation began and you’re already at your wit’s end. The heavy silence hanging in the air and their passive-aggressive comments toward you make you want to tear your hair out. Or run away. Maybe both. 

There are still lots of days left before you start class again. Surely there’s something you can do until then…

And then it hits you: traveling throughout Sumeru! You were born and raised in the city, but you’ve rarely ventured outside of its borders. This could be a good chance to expand your horizons and gain experience!

So without further ado, you pack your bags, plan a route, and begin your adventures. Most of the time, you’d leave at dawn before your parents woke up and return late at night after they’d fallen asleep. Sometimes, you wouldn’t return for days, instead choosing to camp outside or stay at a friend’s house for a while. From what you’ve heard through your neighbors and friends, your parents don’t seem to care what you’re doing either. Some of your friends even say that they look happier now that you’re out of the house. The notion stings, but you don’t dwell on it for too long.

There’s a strange sense of peace you feel throughout your travels that’s foreign to you. Whether it’s camping out underneath the stars or scaling a rocky cliffside, you’ve never felt more attuned to yourself than now. You gradually discover more about yourself that you otherwise would have never known. You like stargazing even more after seeing the expanse of the night sky and all its stars for the first time without the light pollution of the city. You like to swim, as demonstrated when you dove headfirst into a river for the first time and felt the cool waters wash over your skin. You’re decently skilled with a bow and arrow after Tighnari gives you some lessons and his old bow to keep yourself safe on your travels.

Most importantly, you discover how to find happiness by yourself. After being told your whole life what you could and couldn’t do, being able to take control of your life was a liberating feeling. 

You end up seeing Alhaitham quite a bit during this time. Strangely enough, he was always one of the first people you’d see returning back to Sumeru City. He’d always give you a subtle nod when he noticed you staring at him before leaving. Sometimes, he’d even be there to wish you a safe trip- no, not sometimes- almost all of the time. It’s basically a given that he’ll be there to see you off at this point. How he hears about it every time, you have no idea but you aren’t complaining. 

“Leaving early as always, I see. Where to this time, (Name)?”

You pause from checking your supplies to see Alhaitham standing behind you.

“I’m heading down to Gandharva Ville to spend some time in the rainforest. But you’re up this early just to wish me a safe trip? I didn’t take you for a morning person.”

“I’m not. But someone should see you off each time, and if your parents won’t do it, then I will.”

“Y-You… how did you know?”

“Know what?” he asks while stepping around to help you with your bag. “All I know is that I’ve never seen them send you off or welcome you back.”

“So be it then,” you grumble. “It’s not as if I care.”

So he doesn’t know about our strained relationship yet, you muse to yourself. That’s surprising, considering how big mother and father’s social circle is… 

“You’re all set now. Best you head off before it gets too hot.”

“I will. You take care as well.”

He watches you leave through the city gates until you’re no longer in sight. A rare expression of longing crosses his face then and only after lingering for a few more moments (with his eyes trained on where you once were) does he leave. 

He was lying when he pretended to be unaware of your family situation. When you’re hailed as one of the best scholars in recent times in a land that has a borderline fanatical dedication to academics, everything pertaining to you will be scrutinized and monitored. Your sudden decision to leave Sumeru for extended periods of time, and the way your parents refused to talk about you or changed the topic whenever you came up… it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. 

For your sake, Alhaitham hopes you would return later rather than sooner so you wouldn’t have to hear what was being said about you. 

“You seem to have gotten good at this,” he remarks over coffee and desserts when you return several weeks later. Alhaitham notices you’ve put on some muscle. There are some new scars and the bow slung on your back is an unfamiliar sight as well. “You would be a perfect candidate for the Adventurer’s Guild.” 

You laugh. “Nah, it’s not for me. As much as I enjoy traveling, I don’t think I could earn my living through it, plus I won’t be able to keep it up once I’m all old and wrinkly.”

“Tell me about your adventures though. Where did you go?”

Your eyes light up and you begin rambling excitedly about your travels. You go into great detail about your time spent in the Avidya Forest and your spontaneous decision to travel to Liyue, which catches him off-guard.

“Liyue?” he repeats when you mention it. “So that’s why you were gone for several weeks instead of days. I’ve never been there before. Tell me, what was it like?”

Your smile grows even bigger and your eyes may as well have been stars from how brightly they were shining.

“Oh, you should’ve seen the architecture- actually, wait, I should be telling Kaveh this- but it was so pretty! The food was super good too and a friend I made shared some of her recipes with me. I have a feeling that you’ll like them so I can teach you some other time! Ooh, and you can’t miss the scenery for the world! Personally, my favorite was…”

You’re so caught up in reliving and telling your adventures that you fail to miss the fond look in his eyes and the rare hint of a smile that stretches across his face. 

You’re halfway through recounting your way back home through the Chasm when you happen to glance at the clock and the realization begins to set in.

“I have to get going now,” you explain as you hurriedly gather your belongings. “I’m meeting up with some other friends in a bit. But thanks for the coffee and sweets. Hopefully, I’ll see you around again sometime soon?”

The chime above the door jingles as you rush outside and Alhaitham is left alone with his thoughts. With a deep sigh, he takes a look out the window and decides to address the thoughts about you that have been on his mind lately. 

You’re annoying, there’s no doubt about that. You love to push his buttons and purposefully irritate him. You’re an overachiever and you care too much about what other people think. For the longest time, your whole personality consisted of your academic accomplishments and nothing else. You’re a people pleaser and you long for acceptance and praise from others- two things he thinks are utterly useless coming from other people. The moment someone questions your abilities, regardless of who it is, you begin to second-guess yourself and waver. Ridiculous, in his opinion. You know your worth and skills better than anyone else, so why are you letting their baseless accusations affect you? You’re easily affected by rumors and your self-worth is determined by what others think of you. 

But you have a warm and welcoming demeanor that’s rare in the cutthroat halls of the Akademiya that draws others to you like a moth to a flame. You enjoy traveling and you have a major soft spot for animals, especially cats. Whenever you’re in the city, you always stop to pet all the strays roaming around, no matter how long it takes. You enjoy sweets- not the overly cloying kind, but the ones that have a touch of sweetness to the point where you can just taste it. Your favorite dessert is the Padisarah Pudding sold in the Grand Bazaar and he’s stopped by so often that the vendor knows his name, face, and order by now. You’re more of a tea person than a coffee person, but he has your coffee order memorized just in case (iced, with two sugars, a splash of milk, and rosewater) and he’s the one that has been mysteriously supplying your favorite tea whenever it’s running low. He notices you like to ramble about things you’re passionate about (and he willingly- gladly- listens too). 

And he’s come to realize that maybe you’re not as insufferable as he thought you were. You have a brilliant mind and you’re one of the few that isn’t put off by his blunt nature. You don’t just tolerate him- you appreciate him, flaws and everything. 

You’ve always been envious of him- he’s known that ever since he met you. Because of him, you have strived to prove yourself as better in all aspects. A stupid rivalry is what it started off as with your pride getting the best of both of you. But throughout these three years, you’ve only brought out the best in each other.

At this point, he doesn’t feel complete without you. 

He’s well aware of the question hanging over people’s minds whenever they see the both of you together. You are the sun, the golden child of your parents who are renowned within the Akademiya and held to the highest level of scrutiny. Their judging gazes, eyes that fixate on every move of yours, comments whispered behind your back- you take them all in stride. Meanwhile, Alhaitham’s presence is glossed over when you’re there. To many, he is just another Akademiya student that they will see in passing and forget about immediately. In that aspect, he is the moon that hides from others. Those who were acquainted with his parents or his late grandmother may recognize him and speak with him, but he mostly goes unnoticed and ignored. 

But free from the prying eyes of others, Alhaitham is able to sleep peacefully at night. Your fitful sleep, on the other hand, is plagued with dreams of what-ifs and the looming fear of disappointment from others. You’ve always succeeded, not because you craved success, but because you feared failure and how others would react.

The rising moon admires the sun because of the boundless love they receive from others. On the other hand, the setting sun is envious of the moon for his sweetest dreams that they can only long for.

You enter your third year with a sense of apprehension that wasn’t there before. Your high hopes for yourself are still there, but they’ve been dashed considerably. But despite your lack of ambition now and your experiences from last year, you still (attempt to) throw yourself into your studies, knowing that this year is where the challenge begins. Your first two years were just warmups, or nothing, according to your parents. 

Your first few weeks go well, but before you know it, you find yourself lost and overwhelmed by the material.

I… don’t understand any of this. But how could this be? I’ve spent so much time. 

Your test scores don’t reflect your efforts either.

45%. 50%. 63% 67%. 55%. 38%.

“Damn it!”

You slam your fist onto your desk table as the results of another failed test greet you. You had spent so much time preparing for this one, only for your efforts to be rewarded with a slap to the face. 

You can’t keep going like this. You need help, and desperately at that, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. 

You’re smarter than everyone else, you don’t need help, a familiar voice comes into your mind. You’re the pride and joy of our family because of your grades. Don’t let us down now. 

You look out the window, the heat still simmering in your stomach.

“What a load of bullshit.” 

“... I saw your test scores earlier today.” 

You glare at Alhaitham with poison in your gaze that was never there until now. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he feels strangely uneasy, like his body is warning him to stop. 

“And? Here to mock me for it?”

“No. On the contrary, I want to offer you my help.” 

Oh, the humiliation. Look at how far you’ve fallen. 

“Forget it,” you snap. “I don’t need your help.”

You get up and leave, slamming the doors shut behind you. It echoes through the House of Daena and the other students there turn to stare at Alhaitham in silent shock. He’s stunned too. Although you can have quite the sharp tongue at times, you’ve never lashed out at him like that before. 

A few weeks later, the results of another test are announced. Alhaitham’s name sits at the top like it always has. His name is on everyone’s tongue as they jealously grumble over the results once again. His eyes examine the list, searching for one name in particular, until he finds yours at the bottom of it.

He pauses, then turns around in time to see you storming out. He doesn’t miss the looks your classmates give you- mocking, ridiculing, scornful, and disgusted sneers that relish in your downfall. The jealous grumbles about him now turn into titters and sneering whispers with your name now being trampled upon by those that used to extol your virtues. It’s all noise and it grates his ears until he can’t stand it anymore.

“What a waste of time.”

The noise stops and everyone turns to look at him. 

“You all have the energy to complain about your own scores while making a laughing stock of someone else. It’d be better spent on improving your own scores- unless you’re just that incompetent?”

Later that night as you’re studying, you get a message from your parents through your Akasha. It’s the first time you’ve gotten anything from them all year. After hesitating, you open the message.

It’s short and simple but your heart sinks and your temper flares after reading it. You rip your Akasha Terminal off and toss it to the side. 

Don’t come home this year. 

“I need your help. I’m asking for a friend.”

Alhaitham looks over his book at you. It’s the first time he’s seen you all week and to be frank, you look awful. Your hair is a mess, your uniform is wrinkled, and your skin looks dry and dull.

“Do I know them? If not, then I won’t help.”

You roll your eyes and throw your hands up exasperatedly.  “Ok fine, yes, you know them.”

“Well, why won’t they just ask me themselves? Why trouble you?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter right now. Just answer the damn question.”

He leans back and knowingly looks at you. 

“They’re going through a tough time right now,” you explain, choosing each of your words carefully. “They aren’t doing good in their classes and they’re trying to get back on track, but they don’t know how to.”

“... This is for you, isn’t it?”

Damn, he saw right through you. Were you that obvious?

Alhaitham goes back to reading his book. “I can’t say I would be of any use here. After all, I’ve never been in that position nor would I let myself get there.” 

You feel your temper flare once more. You clench your jaw and try to reign in your anger before speaking to him. 

“Well, duh. You’re also not helping either.”

“Really? I think it’s a perfectly reasonable answer.”

“Put yourself in my shoes for once, would you?”

He sets his book down and looks at you.

“You asked me for my advice and I told you what I would do in that situation. I don’t understand why you’re getting upset.”

“That’s because it’s not the answer I’m looking for!”

“That’s on you for expecting others to somehow know what you want without telling them.”

“You-!”

You groan and run your hands through your hair.  Is it just you or is he being more insufferable today? Can’t he read the room for once? 

He continues. “If you wanted someone to only tell you what you wanted to hear, a mirror would be a better audience.”

“Alhaitham, all I’m asking from you is a little empathy. Is that so hard to have?”

“And is it so hard for you to stop throwing a hissy fit just because I didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear?”

His words are all spite and knives meant to hurt. They lack the usual lighthearted tone he has with you. You feel it coming- the barbed words that are poised to strike and cut deep, but it doesn’t help when he begins speaking again. 

 “You asked for my help and I gave you advice. You’re not in a position to be complaining here.” 

“Yeah, well, your ‘advice’ isn’t what most people would consider as help.”

He scoffs and looks away before looking at you once more- like he’s looking down on you, you realize. There’s something akin to disgust and impatience in his gaze that makes you freeze despite all your sharp words earlier. 

“How irrational could you be? You reject everyone’s help even though you need it and you don’t listen to anybody’s suggestions. You’re too caught up in the conception that you’re always right and everyone else is always wrong. You’re childish, (Name), that’s what you are. You’re like a child still naive and ignorant, content with playing with their toys and games and ignoring reality. You’re not cut out for the Akademiya. You never were.”

He laughs and now you realize just how much it hurts when it’s directed toward you. 

“And you’re telling me that my ego is overinflated. No wonder you’re failing everything. Archons, (Name), you’re utterly hopeless. What did I ever see in you?”

The silence that fills the space afterward is enough to make Alhaitham immediately regret his words. You angrily glare at him and Alhaitham’s heart sinks when he recognizes the emotion present in your eyes.

Utter hate.

“... For all these years, I've heard so many rumors about you but chose to brush them off,” you begin. “I was so stupid! I should have listened to them! They say you’re cold and heartless and only now do I realize that they were right. They say you’re not human from how cruel you are- archons, dammit! Look at me!”

The sudden demand makes Alhaitham nervously glance toward you after avoiding your gaze this entire time. You sniff and wipe away the few tears that managed to spill over. Losing your composure in front of him, the perfect and poised genius, was already humiliating enough, but you hold his gaze long enough to let him see. Let him witness the results of his own actions and the prospect of losing someone he cared about (all over again).

“You’re an absolutely horrible person, Alhaitham. I hope you remember this.”

Alhaitham. It’s the first time you’ve used his full name ever since you befriended him and the implications of it sting. 

He reaches out toward you. “Wait-”

You slap his hand away. 

“No, we’re done here. I thought you could at least understand, but you’re just as uncaring and self-centered as everyone else here. And I once thought that you were better than anyone else here, but only now do I realize how stupid I was."

You laugh sardonically one last time.

“My parents were right. They would have been so much happier if you were their child.”

Alhaitham doesn’t see you again for several weeks after that. It’s as if you’re purposefully avoiding him and it gets to a point where he’s beginning to get concerned about your health and safety. 

Currently, he’s meeting with Tighnari. Out of everyone, the fox hybrid had the highest chance of knowing with his keen sense of hearing.

“I’m concerned about (Name).”

Tighnari’s ears twitch in response. 

“They aren’t the same person anymore. You’ve seen it too.”

The fox hybrid sadly nods. “They’ve been consumed by rage and self-hate. I see it in their eyes and the way they lash out. They’re angry at themselves and at everyone around them and it’s completely understandable considering the situation and the response of those they trusted most. Still, it’s not healthy if they continue like this. Speaking of which, were they always this temperamental?”

Alhaitham shakes his head. “No. To be clear, they’ve always had a sharp tongue but it was always lighthearted. They only started getting truly angry this year.”

“Lashing out or displaying signs of anger is often a common symptom of burnout. I’m fairly confident that’s what (Name) has. Specifically, academic burnout. But I’m sure you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Alhaitham uncomfortably avoids Tighnari’s prying eyes. 

Tighnari’s eyes narrow. “Look, (Name) is a great friend to me as well, but why are you telling me about this? You’re in their Darshan so shouldn’t you know more?”

“I haven’t heard anything about them either. I got concerned after they didn’t show up at the library for a week. From what I’ve heard, they haven’t been showing up to class either for the past few weeks, which is strange for them. I’m asking around- maybe I’ll find something out that way.”

Tighnari shakes his head. “Sadly, I don’t know why either. If it helps, some people have said they haven’t even seen them. Not just at the library or at class but in general. It’s almost as if they’ve just… disappeared.”

There’s a moment of silence that passes between them. Tighnari stares at Alhaitham curiously and he rests his chin on his hands.

Alhaitham doesn’t have a good feeling about this…

“Speaking of which, does the fight from earlier have anything to do with this?”

“You knew?”

“Please. When two of my closest friends get into an argument as big as that, I’m bound to find out eventually. So, did it have anything to do with this?”

“... Yes,” he admits. “I feel guilty and I want to apologize to them.” 

“Well, better late than never,” grumbles Tighnari under his breath. The stink eye he sends his way doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham. 

“Why do you care for them so much?”

The question comes out of nowhere and leaves him reeling. 

“I suppose it’s… because I consider them a friend?”

Archons, that answer sounds even more pathetic out loud than it did in his head and Tighnari knows it. 

Tighnari heaves a long sigh that makes Alhaitham pause.

“You absolute lummox!” he snaps. “I always knew you were somewhat emotionally constipated but I didn’t think you’d be this dense…”

He suddenly stands up and stares the ashen-haired male in the eye, his tone softer this time. 

“You’re in love with them, Alhaitham. That’s what you’ve been feeling lately.”

Alhaitham immediately scoffs. “No, that can’t possibly be-”

“You, who hates sharing what you consider yours, share your notes with them.”

“It’s a win-win situation for both of us. We’re in the same Darshan and we’ll be able to learn better from each other.”

“But them, specifically, when there are countless others that would kill for the chance to learn from you?”

“They can figure the material out themselves. Plus, I stand to gain no benefit from what they have to offer.”

“What, so only (Name) can keep up with you?”

“Precisely.” 

Tighnari sees the opening Alhaitham has created and takes advantage of it.

“Are you sure that you’re still rivals? Even though (Name) is…”

“Of course. It’s been like that since day one.”

“Huh, that’s interesting. Because from what I know, academic rivals don’t go out to lunch together. They don’t go stargazing even though a certain someone finds it mind-numbingly boring. They don’t sneak out past curfew and break Akademiya rules on a daily basis, and they certainly don’t spend hefty chunks of Mora to make the other happy.” 

Tighnari has Alhaitham backed into a corner and he knows it. 

“Kaveh knows as well.”

“And?”

“And you still let yourself get roped into his schemes to make them happy. Look, I know this isn’t a good time to bring him up considering…”

He gestures at the empty space, a silent indication of Kaveh and Alhaitham’s broken friendship. 

“But there’s no denying that Kaveh did and still does care about you. Why else would he be willing to put in so much time and effort to make them happy? Because in addition to being their friend, he knows that when they’re happy, you are as well. And if that doesn’t mean something, then, I don’t know what else does.”

“We’re just friends,” he argues once again. Tighnari glares at him.

“You’re an idiot to think it doesn’t go deeper than that. You also saw them off every single time during the summer.”

“That’s what friends do. Besides, their parents should have-”

“Uh-huh. Go on, keep lying to yourself like that. Do I have to hit you over the head with a brick in order for you to realize your own feelings? You’re sounding like a broken record here.” 

“I-”

“There’s no use in denying or lying to us, Alhaitham. We’re your friends, after all. But the one who’s going to have to decide what to do next is you.”

He gets up and gives Alhaitham a pat on the shoulder. Before leaving, he looks at him one last time.

“It’s going to hurt even more when you lose them for good. You’ll only wish you could have done something sooner. But I think you already know that by now, right, Alhaitham?”

“Do you know where (Name) is?”

It’s a rare occasion today- Alhaitham actually showed up for class. But it wasn’t to listen to whatever the professor had to say- no, it was to ask your classmates where you went. He’s been trying every day to find you, but only to no avail. 

He’s gained some valuable information, however. Your roommate moved out a while ago, leaving you the sole occupant of your dorm room. He also managed to find your dorm room number after asking some of your “friends”, who after relentless prying, reluctantly opened up. 

“I can’t say for sure, but I heard they’re in the hospital. They somehow ended up there over the weekend.” 

“The hospital?” he repeats. “Do you know why?”

“No idea. Sorry.”

He shows up at the Birmarstan after the class ends, fully expecting to see you. He gives the nurse his name and a few minutes later, she returns with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, but the patient is not accepting visitors at this time.”

A slight pause. Barely perceptible.

“I see.”

You look at the window to see Alhaitham’s retreating form. The nurse enters your room a few minutes later and crosses her arms.

“He’s the first person who’s asked to visit you ever since you came in. I’m surprised- I thought you’d get more. Most people usually do.”

You pull the covers over your head and roll over. Such is the way of life in the Akademiya. Friendships were formed out of convenience as a way to climb up the ladder later in life. As soon as you were no longer useful or fell from grace like you did, others were quick to abandon you without a second thought. 

So why did Alhaitham visit then? To you, your relationship (as enemies? Friends? Or even…) was built solely on how you could assist each other, and nothing more. By your prior logic, there is no logical reason why he should visit you.

Unless… 

“Is there any reason why you didn’t want to see him in particular?”

Even if your hypothesis proved to be true, it doesn’t excuse or undo the hurt he caused.

“He’s the last person I want to see right now.”

A few days after being discharged from Birmarstan, there’s a knock from the door that wakes you up from your sleep. Still disoriented, you look up and roll over, opting to ignore it and go back to sleep.

The knocking continues. You cover your ear with a pillow and squeeze your eyes shut even more.

“I know you’re there, (Name). Several people told me so.”

Shit, it’s the last person you want to see right now. Your mood sours instantly and now you’re fully awake. 

“What do you want?” you snap. 

“I just want to talk.”

It doesn’t seem like he’ll be going away anytime soon, so you get up, kicking the trash that litters the floor to the side, and carefully cracking open the door. He looks down to see you. You pull the sleeves of your shirt down as he does so. 

“Can I come in?”

You look behind at the mess that is your dorm.

“... It’s not exactly clean right now.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

You flick the lights on and hide the worst of the trash underneath your bed. He follows you, his gaze traveling around the room. He notices the side with the unoccupied bed is considerably cleaner (that must have been your roommate’s before they moved out, he reasons) and your desk looks like it hasn’t been used in a while. He takes a seat at it and examines the table. Your Akasha Terminal is lying in the corner and collecting dust. Your textbook is open to a section that was taught a while ago and it looks like you just started taking notes. 

(Although, the frustrated scribbles that occupy most of the page have him concerned. Additionally, certain parts of the paper are wrinkled, as if they have dried after getting wet. The shape and spot where they are concentrated in is another cause for concern as well. Were you… crying?)

You pull the covers over your form and glare at him. 

“Well? What did you want to tell me?”

“I’m sorry.”

You pause, then shake your head.

“That alone won’t be enough.”

“I know. And that’s why-”

He gulps, his voice shaking toward the end. It’s just a simple apology, so why is he so nervous?

(But deep down he knows the real answer: this is his last chance to ask you for forgiveness before losing you for good. And it was the thought of losing you, the one that had managed to worm their way into his heart and appreciate him that scared him the most.) 

“I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have said those things back then. I should have been more understanding of your struggles and, like you said, had some more empathy. I realize that I am far from an ideal friend in many people’s eyes and if you feel the same, I will not hold that against you.”

His chest tightens and he subconsciously looks away.

“I’m aware of how people see me- valuing logic above all with a mind fueled by equations and facts over feelings. A genius with no regard or need for others. But I’m still human. I feel regret and remorse the same way as anyone else. I know when I’ve messed up and when I need to apologize. Now is one of those times, more than ever.” 

You turn around and open the blinds, letting the light flood the room before sitting back down, watching him carefully. 

“I don’t want to forgive you. Do you have any idea how long your words lingered for?”

The words sting Alhaitham. Your voice shakes and you feel the familiar burning sensation in your eyes. 

“But I know you. I know your bluntness and sharp tongue. You often say hurtful things but don’t mean them. You’re stubborn and slow when it comes to apologizing, even if the guilt eats away at you. You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve and you’re not one to dish out praises, leading others to believe that you’re cold and unsympathetic.”

You suddenly lean in, staring into the eyes that had kept you awake at night for so long. His eyes widen slightly and you smile faintly to yourself. 

“But I like to think that I’ve gotten to know you a bit. You show that you care with your actions, not your words, but that takes time- time that most people aren’t willing to give because of their first impression of you. You take the time to learn about the people you care about and prefer acts of service to words of affirmation and physical touch as your love language. You show that you care in a way of your own.

“So yes. I forgive you.”

Alhaitham finds himself sighing with relief. Yet a question still lingers in the back of his mind.

“Why?”

And there it is again, for the first time in a long time. Your smile. It’s a little stiff and awkward, as if you haven’t smiled in a long time, but it’s undoubtedly yours. 

“The same reason. I missed you too.” 

And now begins the uncomfortable process of recovery. 

“How long were you gone for?”

“... Longer than I’d like to admit. Catching up is going to be a difficult task, isn’t it?”

“I won’t sugarcoat it; you’ve missed a lot.” Alhaitham flips through your books and notes from prior years. “However, you have a strong foundation from your earlier years. That should help you. But first, let me ask you a few questions so I can outline a study plan for you.”

You raise your eyebrows at his statement.

“You’re taking this quite seriously, aren’t you?”

“Naturally,” he replies. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Knowing you, you’re not the kind of person to go out of your way for others,” you grumble. “So going to such lengths just for me…” 

“You discredit me if you think that I would do that. But why do you think you felt burnt-out in the first place?”

You look out the window and think for a bit.

“... I think it’s because of my own pride. Had I asked for help earlier on, I have a feeling I wouldn’t be in this position, or things would be better, at least,” you admit. 

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

You sigh and hold your hands out in defeat. “You surely know more than you’re letting on. But I think it’s also because I never learned how to study.”

Alhaitham pauses at that. “Really?”

There’s no mockery or derision in his question- just curiosity. 

“People goaded me on as a gifted child and I was expected to somehow know how to do everything perfectly the first time, you know? It’s just how things were.”

“Well, that’s something we can fix for sure.”

Your first few days back are the worst. Whispers and stares follow you wherever you go and your professors, who once showered you with praises, look at you strangely or even ignore you. 

“Don’t mind them,” he says when he notices you sulking in the library later that day. “You and I both know that’s just the way the Akademiya is. We’ll see who gets the last laugh.” 

Much to the envy of your classmates, he also personally tutors you in all your classes. He accompanies you to all your classes (even the ones he isn’t taking) and sits in on them, whispering and writing little notes of clarification and elaboration. 

Bit by bit, you see your scores slowly improve. Alhaitham teaches you an array of study techniques, many of which have been personally vetted by him.

“Try each of them out,” he says. “Different techniques work for different people. There is something out there that works for you.”

He’s able to bear witness to the fruits of your labor one day when he hears your excited footsteps running toward him.

“Haitham, look!”

You practically shove several papers into his face. “I got a perfect score on the latest exam! And guess what? I tied with you, meaning that I also placed first!”

A rare smile, solely reserved for your eyes, creeps onto his face. 

“Good job. Your score is well-deserved after all the hard work you’ve been putting in.”

He sees it now. Slowly but surely, you’re regaining bits and pieces of your old self. You’ll never be exactly who you once were, but that’s ok. You’ll pick the broken yet salvageable parts up and put them together to create something new yet still distinctly you.

He only looks forward to seeing what you’ll become in the future. 

You’ve finally graduated.

It’s a joyous occasion today, filled with speeches, hugs, and promises to keep in touch. Families and friends crowd outside the Akademiya to congratulate their loved ones. The diploma in your hands and the cords around your shoulders are a sign of your achievements and your persistence despite all the roadblocks you faced along the way. 

Your heart feels simultaneously burdened and relieved. You had graduated squarely in the middle of the class. You knew it was something to be proud of, yet that part of your former self that you could never suppress couldn’t help but feel disappointed. 

Not that it really bothered you anyway. When you walked across the stage to the smattering of applause accompanying your name, you had immediately locked eyes with Alhaitham in the crowd. He was clapping, but what caught your attention the most was the smile he sent your way. It wasn’t one of his once in a blue moon microscopic ones.

No. It was one where you could see a sliver of his teeth and where the edges of his eyes crinkled from it, the sight of which sent your heart ablaze. There was pride in his gaze and in that moment, you felt as if everything had been worth it- even if it wasn’t the outcome you expected. 

And when he walked across the stage, you were the one to clap for him the loudest. 

You push your way through the heavy crowds, searching for one person in particular. He’s not anywhere in the crowd, so you head down the walkway and there you see him. He’s waiting for you with a large bouquet of flowers in his arms.

“Took you long enough,” he remarks. Alhaitham holds out the flowers to you and you accept them gratefully. 

“Oh, you remembered my favorite flowers!” you exclaim as you examine the bouquet. “I have something for you as well.”

You hand him an envelope and he eyes it curiously when a voice interrupts you. 

“(Name).”

You hear an awkward cough behind you and you turn to see your parents. They stand there awkwardly, fidgeting with their hastily-purchased bouquet of flowers that pales in comparison to what Alhaitham got you. 

(You don’t even like the kind of flowers your parents got for you and you’ve told them that before…) 

“Congratulations on gradu-”

“Oh, you must be Alhaitham!”

Your mother’s sudden remark takes all of you by surprise. She rushes forward and eagerly shakes his hand.

“I’ve heard so much about you! You just graduated and you’ve already made a name for yourself in Sumeru as a genius! How incredible is that? Ah, if only my child here could learn from you, but they’ve already graduated, so it’s a little too late for that now…”

You bite your lip and look away. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Alhaitham. He retracts his hand. 

“It was nice to meet you. We’ll be taking our leave now.”

“We’ll?” 

Alhaitham ignores them in favor of holding your hand and leading you away.

“I think a celebration is in order. The owner of the stall that sells your favorite Padisarah Pudding is offering us free dessert today.” 

The heaviness that was hanging over you just a moment ago is now gone.

“Free desserts? I’m in!”

“Then it’s settled.” 

Later that night, Alhaitham remembers the letter you gave him earlier and pulls it out. He glances at the clock. There’s still time before he has to leave and meet up with you.

Dear Alhaitham,

Thank you for being by my side throughout these four years when no one else was. I owe my entire academic career to you. Perhaps even my entire life. I don’t know if I’d be writing this letter if it weren’t for you. 

When I saw you on the first day, I wondered what you were doing here. You were short, scrawny, and shy back then. I thought you were one of those child prodigies. Who knew you’d turn out to be the buff man skilled with the sword that I know today… 

Honestly, I didn’t think that you would help me. You were the envy of our class, unlike me. I wouldn’t be surprised and I wouldn’t blame you if all that praise got to your head. I guess I didn’t know you well enough back then, though, because you defied all of my expectations. Not only did you not care for status or fame, you also took time out of your own day (which I know you hate doing) for me. 

You really are an enigma, Haitham. You’re a person with several layers and hidden secrets like an intricately-designed mechanism. But I think that’s one of the reasons that drew me to you. Everyone has their own secrets and burdens. By slowly learning more about each other, you learn more about yourself. 

You and I, we are inseparable now. Earlier today, I had someone come up to me and ask where you were. They were surprised that you weren’t next to me like always. At first glance, we seem more different than similar, especially with our contrasting personalities. But take a closer look and they’ll see that we share more in common than in differences. Opposites attract, but similarities bind. 

Like those dusty old philosophers and figures that we had to learn about in class, we are parallels of each other. You are simultaneously my biggest critic and supporter. My biggest rival and confidant. My biggest headache and source of comfort. 

But most importantly, you are my biggest friend. 

Remember that one night where I asked you what you wished for? You had said that you wanted to keep talking to me regardless of how things turned out in the future. I didn’t really have a response at the time, but now I finally do.

My wish is selfish. I wish for you to stay the way you are. A little arrogant, blunt, curious, and caring in your own way. Because I can’t imagine a future without you in it now. 

With all my love,

(Name)

The house is too quiet for Alhaitham’s liking. He appreciates silence when working and Kaveh’s incessant noise from working on projects at midnight is downright irritating, but there is a time and place for everything.

Now is not that time. Thamina is sleeping on the cushion next to him. Kaveh is out in a meeting with a client (for once) and you’re-

“I’m home!”

Speak of the devil, there you are. Thamina’s eyes open and she jumps off the cushion to greet you with a loud meow and a head rub against your legs. Alhaitham takes his headphones off and sets his book down before getting up to greet you after a long journey back from Mondstadt. You’re tired, your uniform is wrinkled, and your Kamera has been hastily shoved back into its case, but Alhaitham has never been more grateful to see you. 

“Missed me?”

“You’ve been gone for too long,” he grumbles before pulling you into a tight hug and burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Love, it was only for a month!”

“My point still stands.”

You scrunch your face up and eventually manage to wiggle your way out of his grasp. It’s been a few years since you’ve graduated. Alhaitham has dutifully taken on the responsibilities of the Akademiya’s Scribe while you now work as a reporter for a newspaper company. You love the job because it puts your Haravatat degree to good use and you get paid to travel, although you don’t like the part of being away from Alhaitham for extended periods of time.

“Are you still up for dinner and dessert even though it’s getting late?”

“At my favorite place?”

“Our favorite place,” he corrects.

“Oh, you like it now as well? Did some of my tastes rub off onto you?”

“The pudding runs I went on for you did that a long time ago.”

Comets are ephemeral in nature. Some of them are only seen once and then gone, lost in time and never to be seen again. But occasionally, in a twist of fate, they can be rediscovered although it may take hundreds or even thousands of years for them to return.

That comet he had wished upon several years ago had finally returned to him.

[cdlum]

I just wanted to say I think your art style is awesome! I was wondering if you had any tutorials on how you draw anatomy in your style (hips and legs especially)? Sorry if there's already one posted and I just didn't see it 🥲. Happy New Year :>

thanks for the kind words. i tend to draw people pretty stylized and then some so a good bit of artistic licence gets used. these tips are just what i use so feel free to take them with a grain of salt. with anatomy in particular you can kind of talk in circles because human/animal bodies are that complex so ill just zone in on the points you specified. here's a little image with a bunch of pointers:

the above image condenses a lot of the points I'd make, but basically the key parts are to start with the bare essentials and build up that complexity. using a line of action is a good way to get a quick, rough start. you draw a line out in the general direction of the pose and do your best to adhere to it to give the pose a sense of flow.

you can also draw smaller, thumbnail versions that throw a lot of caution to the wind but capture the basic energy of what you're going for. even having a tiny little stick figure version of your idea can make for a good guideline of where to take it forward.

when it comes to actual limbs, you wanna consider how they integrate and work together, kind of like how chains do. you can see on some of the parts of pear i've drawn out these wireframes to kind of portray how the mass of her legs works in a three dimensional space. for aspects like the waist/hips, i use that X technique i highlight above a lot, particularly for the lower torso. a lot of the times, even when drawing a character totally naked, imagining them wearing things like skintight underwear can help a lot to guide you in the right direction.

its also a good idea to consider things like gravity and weight to a degree. humans are essentially big meat sacks and gravity is always pulling down on that, but theres all kinds of aspects that effect that, such as character build or clothing. pear technically isn't naked in this, but i've tried to imagine her as such and take that into account.

if you are drawing digitally, don't be afraid to take advantage of the convenience you get with that workflow. you can retry and iterate on things a lot faster that pen and paper, and do things that aren't really feasible at all when it comes to editing and modifying your existing work. things like resizing certain bodyparts, instantly flipping the canvas, or using selection tools to completely adjust the positions of parts of your drawing. to give you an example heres a timelapse with all the little edits i made just to this demo drawing:

you don't have to use these techniques linearly, either. sometimes ill have a really solid idea for a piece in my head, and go back to basics with certain elements if they’re not coming out right or i just want to brush them up a bit more. some of the tutorial-y parts i added in i didn't actually use during the drawing but often do use so they're there just for demonstration. not every drawing i do starts as building blocks or a really basic version, often ill just start with a face and build it out from there.

i always encourage liberally using references (this can include yourself) and trying out stuff like life drawing or looking at things like existing photographs of real people/places/things if you can, the more you use learning material the better you'll draw up a mental inventory in your head that you can rely on more and more. some of these tips are things i've learned from other artists over the years (the chin one especially i remember seeing a tutorial about lol), so this is a lot of knowledge i've amassed from other sources over time myself. there are plenty of times ill use all sorts of reference material and its all in service of arriving at the final destination as smoothly as possible. learn by doing, as they say. hope this helps!

[daycourtofficial]

Hello. If you don't mind can I request a fic with cassian with a shy reader where she and Cassian have been trying to get pregnant for years, but reader starts doubting herself when seeing the rest of the inner circle females like feyre and elain getting pregnant, and thinking cassian will leave her because it is taking them ages to get pregnant...but Cassian reassures her and all...and weeks later reader finds out she is pregnant and surprises cassian with the news...

Ask and you shall receive! This is actually super super cute so thank you for this request!

A Teeny, Tiny Illyrian Warrior

Summary: after years of trying, you break down crying to Cassian over your inability to conceive, only to find out several months later that you are expecting

It was irrational. You should be happy for Elain, sweet Elain who you considered a great friend. Elain, who after several years of healing, figured out what she wanted, and moved to live with Lucien to help rebuild the spring court, just announced she was pregnant.

Making her the third Archeron to be pregnant, with Nesta and Eris having a baby a few years prior.

It was exhausting. Everyone around you was churning out babies, except for you and Cassian. You’ve both wanted kids for so long, but when Rhys was trapped under the mountain, the two of you decided to pause your dreams to help run and maintain Velaris in his absence. The fear of a child growing up in Amarantha’s reign was terrifying enough to keep the dreams at bay.

The tonic you took every day to keep you from getting pregnant had felt like sewage down your throat.

When Rhys had returned, you were so excited not just for your brother in law’s return, but for what it meant for you and Cassian. You could try. And try you did. You let Amarantha stop you from conceiving, but the war with Hybern would do no such thing.

So the two of you spent the first few years excited, constantly tearing at each other’s clothes. Until your cycles would come. And come. And come, each one a reminder of what isn’t to come.

Then Feyre got pregnant, and you were ecstatic, over the moon. Then Nesta got pregnant a few years later. You were still happy, but the jealousy was clawing your throat. Now Elain’s pregnant, and it is taking every ounce of strength not to ask why her.

The past year sex has almost felt more like a chore than pleasure, your empty womb keeping both of you wanting more.

You plaster on a smile, congratulate the two of them, and after dinner you go and slink away into the bathroom, hide your head in your hands, and sob.

Sob because it should be you announcing your pregnancy. Sob because everyone should be happy for you. Sob because what if Cassian decides you’re not enough?

He sees all these females getting pregnant - what if he decides you’re the problem? He could find loads of females willing to fill that role. Does he wonder how quickly he could impregnate them?

Your sobs are so out of control that you don’t hear the door open and close and a body sits next to you.

“Here,” he says, handing you a handkerchief. You pull your hands away to find Azriel, your other brother in law.

You and Azriel were incredibly close - both of you perfect foils to Cassian’s loud, swaggering personality. The two of you were more quiet and observant, Cass being enough personality for the three of you.

You accept the handkerchief, wiping your eyes and blowing your nose, creating the ugliest noise imaginable.

Azriel stretches out his long legs, resting his back against the cabinet. “I know it’s hard,” he says, reaching out to rub your back, “but it will be okay.”

You lean into him, and choke out, “what if he decides I’m not enough? That he could easily find someone who is able to get pregnant?”

Azriel’s hand halts its soothing strokes for a brief moment before continuing. “If you think for one moment he would ever be separated from you by his own choice, think again.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, “Cassian would cut off his own hand before willingly letting go of yours.”

You two sit there, his words echoing through your mind, when he starts again.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, standing up, “if your child has his eyes and your smile, it’ll blow all the other babies out of the water with its cuteness.”

You smile, accepting the hand he reaches out for you, “I always knew you had a soft spot for Cass’s eyes.”

He laughs, tucking your hand into his elbow to lead you out, “they’re just so pitiful. He pouts and he looks like a kicked puppy.”

You laugh, allowing him to escort you back to the dining room, back to your family.

Later that night, as you and Cassian are taking a bath, you decide to broach the subject that’s been bouncing around your head since Azriel found you in the bathroom.

“What if we stop trying?”

Cassian’s hand reaches up from behind you to cup your face, tilting your chin back so you can look at him, “Stop trying what?”

“Stop trying for a baby.”

His grin is gone immediately, about to ask if you’ve changed your mind, and you spin in his laps to meet his eyes.

You grab his chin and tell him, “I don’t mean like we give up. I mean we stop trying. Sex has felt like a chore for a while, and I miss it being fun. Now it’s just a means to an end.

“I want fun sex, I want dirty sex, I want it all. But I want to stop our ‘only doing this to have a baby’ sex. I won’t take the tonic, but I’m tired of the heartbreak. If it happens, it happens.”

He looks at you, your wet hair making you look even more like a goddess to him, as he cups your chin and asks, “are you sure, love?”

You smile, “yes. Maybe we can go back to trying in a bit, but I want a break. I don’t like the feelings it’s causing, like I broke down in tears earlier that you would leave me for a more breedable woman.”

Cassian snorts, “did you actually call them breedable women?”

You smack his arm, “poor Azriel found me a blubbering mess. I’m pretty sure he should just burn the handkerchief he gave me because all of the snot and tears made it gain five pounds.”

He chuckles, but then he looks at you, conveying every emotion he feels for you, and you know you were a fool for ever thinking he’d consider leaving you.

“Sweetheart, I would never leave you for such a thing. I want a baby, yes, but I want you more, and I would be perfectly content spending the next thousand years with only you by my side.”

Your legs bracket around his thighs, and you rub your fingers up his arms as you tell him, “I can think of a few ways we could spend those thousand years.”

He throws his head back laughing, and crashes his lips to yours.

-

It had been six months since Elain’s announcement, and the babe was here. Feyre and Rhys traveled to spring to go visit, leaving you, Cassian, and Azriel alone.

Cassian was out shopping for Solstice gifts, an activity you were going to join him for until you woke up not feeling well. After much convincing and promising him if you need anything you’ll get Az to get it for you, he went ahead without you, needing to pick up gifts before shops closed.

After spending the first hour of his departure in the bathroom throwing up what felt like all of your internal organs, you wandered out into the hallway in search of your husband’s brother.

After a fifteen minute search, you found him in the library reading what appears to be a romance novel that Nesta left behind.

“Doing some studying?” You ask, peering over his shoulder at the particularly raunchy scene he was reading.

He jumps, having had no idea of your intrusion. He clears his throat, asking, “weren’t you supposed to go shopping today?”

You walk around the couch, sitting next to him and looking at the cover of the book he was reading.

“I was, but felt ill so I stayed behind and convinced Cassian to go without me.”

He snorts, “bad idea. You reign him in a lot when it comes to gift giving, otherwise he forgets how much he’s already bought for someone and just buys more.”

You were about to agree, your husband’s joy at buying gifts knowing no bounds, when his brother stills, slowly sniffing the air and turning towards you and asking, almost accusatorially, “are you pregnant?”

You look at him, half tempted to yell at him over his inclusion of the sore subject. You felt freer these past few months, less bogged down by the negative emotions your inability to conceive was creating.

Azriel had seen it all with you, acting as a source of comfort during all the uncertainty the past sixty years have shown.

His asking that question and your earlier illness is what led the two of you to see Madja very quickly, who confirmed the pregnancy.

“How am I going to tell him?” You ask Azriel, as you two walk around the Sidra. You already felt guilty that Azriel had been the one with you when you found out and not Cassian, however that guilt subsided when you realized if you weren’t pregnant the disappointment on Cassian’s face would have ruined you.

“Well anytime anyone ever asks Cass for advice, he always steers them towards nudity.”

You laugh at how true the starement was. Feyre asking Cassian advice on a gift for Rhys? Nudity. Rhys asking for advice on a gift for Azriel? Nudity. He was a simple man, he’d tell them in response.

You pass by a baby shop and find your eyes drawn to it, your feet pulling you back in front of the door. Azriel follows your line of sight, sweeping his arm in front of you motioning ‘after you’.

The two of you walk around, looking through baby clothes when a sales associate comes and speaks to you. “Ah are you two expecting?” she chirps, looking pleasantly between the two of you.

You laugh while Azriel blushes and reply, “he’s my husband’s brother.”

The sales associate gapes, her jaw going slack. “Oh um okay, well it’s none of my business-“

Before she can finish rambling, Azriel cuts her off. “I’m helping her pick something out to tell my brother he’s going to be a dad to a child that is not mine.”

She looks between you two and laughs at the mistake. “Did you have anything in mind?”

You tell her that you actually had an idea.

-

When Cassian got home, he was tired from lugging around at least two dozen shopping bags. He was exhausted, but incredibly proud of himself because he’s fairly certain he was able to get gifts for everyone, meaning most, if not all, the shopping was done.

The house was quiet, so he took the opportunity to hide the ruby red necklace and earrings he got for you in this old dried fruit container he kept on a top shelf, a place you’d never search for, much less be able to see.

After the gift was tucked away, he began walking through the house trying to find you, deciding you’d likely be in your shared bedroom. Making his way there he stopped in the hallway, finding a tiny little baby sock on the floor.

He looks around, not finding anything else strange he picks it up and continues his search. Passing through the kitchen he found another baby sock, in the dining room he found a little tiny hat, in another hallway he found a little tiny pair of pants that look just like his fighting leathers.

There must be a naked baby running around here somewhere, he thinks.

Right outside the door to your shared room is a little shirt that also looks just like his fighting leathers, with teeny tiny slats in the back for wings.

He grabs the door knob, twisting to enter the room as he begins asking, “is there a naked tiny Illyrian war-“

He stops dead in his tracks at the oh so subtle smell in the room, coating the room in florals he never thought he’d smell from you. He looks up from the shirt, finding you sitting on your bed with tears in your eyes.

“It’s me, I have a teeny tiny Illyrian warrior so I bought them teeny tiny Illyrian fighting leathers for all the teeny tiny threats they’ll have to fight.”

Your husband takes off running towards you, kissing you like his life depended on it. Then he picked you up off the ground, spun you around, and ran out of your bedroom with you. He’s running through the whole house shouting, “she’s having my baby!” Repeating it over and over, until he almost collides with Azriel. Before Azriel can say anything, Cassian picks him up too, spinning the both of you. All three of you laugh at the pure joy radiating off of Cassian after so many years of wanting.

[kiwi-cult]

PARSELSCRIPT!!

Hi. This is mostly for the people from Discord but tadah! I'm finally making that Tumblr post I've been talking about for months.

(Warning this will probably be very chaotic)

To anyone new who sees this: me and some friends made an alphabet for Parseltongue from Harry Potter, aka Parselscript. I'll take you on a little journey to explain my process and give you some tips, should you want to start writing it.

Disclaimer: I wanted to make this script usable for the writer I made it for so it's less of an actual language and more just some characters to represent the Latin (or ‘English’) letters. Like a cipher. It is not realistic. If I made this realistic I'd have to add all sorts of things to indicate body language and smell etc and also have to figure out what sounds Parseltongue actually has etcetera etcetera. No.

Alright.

It all started when we started talking about Parselscript in a Discord server and I asked my friend Ava to visualise the script because she seemed to have a clear vision of it, so I could use it to go from there.

That's how we got this.

I think we all wanted to go with something flowery for some reason, so we did.

After this I just messed around with brushes and shapes in Procreate for a while, tweaking things and trying to make it more writeable. I ended up with something like this (still a rough draft).

It may look a bit like random squiggles at first, and it kinda was at this point. As you can see there's also a lot of added dots and lines, which can be a bit hard to remember and I see you wondering what it looks like without them.

Well here it is.

I showed this to the people I brainstormed with in Discord and we decided to go with the more complicated version because it looks better lol.

This is one of the final versions.

It says: "Hello, my name is Kiwi Cult. I made this script after reading a fanfic called Terrible, But Great written by Isalise the loml on Archive Of Our Own."

Now, to talk about some of the (boring) logistics.

It is read from left to right, top to bottom.

Every separate combination of squiggles you see above is a separate word. Every word is made up of a starting character, one or more letter characters and an ending character.

The very first character you see in the top left corner, with the three petal looking thingies, is a silent starting character that indicates the start of a sentence. Not word: sentence. The end of the character, that little circle thingy, is a comma. So, the first combination says: "Hello,".

Then, the second combination starts with a kind of hook going down and right. This is also a silent character and more meant as an interpunction, that's why you don't pronounce it. It's kind of just a way to start the word when there isn't anything special about it (aka it's not the start of a sentence, a name, an exclamation or a question. But every character is special in its own right🥲). The same kind of hook can be found at the bottom of the combination, except going up. It has the same use, basically just a way to end the word when there isn't anything special about it. Now, you might ask: why does it go right and not left?

We talked about this a while, because I wanted the direction to have some kind of meaning. We wondered about gender, tone, blah blah all kinds of complicated things but in the end I just wanted this script to be writable so I chose to have proficient writers in Parseltongue make their hooks go left and beginners have their hooks go right.

Now, you might notice that I end my words with a hook going right. That is because I don't see myself as a pro in writing in Parselscript okay? It's hard!😭💀

Now, other than the character indicating the start of a sentence, the circle, and the simple hook, there are a few other characters to start or end a combination (don't worry I'll show them all to you at the end, you won't have to use your imagination for long).

We have a character to indicate a name. Now, the rule is: name indicator over start of sentence indicator. So, if you start a sentence with a name, you'll use the symbol to indicate a name, NOT BOTH. (That's not even possible but I don't even want to see you try and butcher my child).

There is a character to indicate a sentence that would usually be followed by an exclamation mark (!), but at the start of the sentence. Then you’d end the exclamated sentence with a period.

The same goes for a question mark (?): put it at the start of a question, not the end. Again, it wouldn't even be possible to use it at the end of a combination but I DON'T EVEN WANNA SEE YOU TRY.

Finally we have a period (.), which looks a bit like a flower with four petals. You do use this one at the end of a word, and it is always followed by a start of sentence indicator or a name indicator. I know people are rejecting capitals these days in their typing but I don't wanna see it. If you start a word after a period with a hook I will find you.

If a sentence starts with a name that is also a question or exclamation you’d use the question/exclamation mark above the name indicator, otherwise it would take away a vital part of the sentence while a name can still be read even if it doesn’t have its indicator.

So, to put it all next to each other, the symbols we have are: -start of sentence indicator -name indicator -exclamation mark (!) -question mark (?) -period (.) -hook (direction depends on efficiency) -comma (,) (direction depends on efficiency)

I didn't make adjusted characters to indicate a capital letter like we do in the Latin alphabet, meaning that the only things you can kind of 'capitalise' are the start of a sentence and the start of a name.

It is also slightly phonetic. Emphasis on slightly. I made separate characters for almost all letters in the Latin alphabet, so you can just write your word normally with Parselscript characters. The only difference is that I made only one character for the 'f/v' sounds and that there is no 'c' character. If a word has a 'c' in it, you'll have to use the character for a 'k' or an 's'. Also a ‘q’ can be made with ‘k’ and ‘w’ etc.

A few examples: -character=karakter -parselscript=parselskript -crazy=krazy -science=siense

-quiz=kwuiz

I know it looks a bit confusing, but I trust you guys' ability to read context clues and figure out what someone means when you try to decipher Parselscript.

Now, for a word like 'phonetic' or 'decipher' I don't really care whether you use the separate characters for 'p' and 'h' or just the one for the 'f/v' sound. You do you.

I also don’t use any double letters because they basically sound the same and it looks ugly but if you want to use double symbols feel free.

I also made some numbers that do not look like they fit with the rest of the script but I promise you that's just because you're not used to it yet. Our own numbers don't belong with our alphabet either because we nicked them from the Arabs (I think, don't quote me on this) but we don’t notice that either.

Tadah. (Yes I know it’s out of order I told you this was gonna be chaotic af)

Other than that, feel free to ask me questions if I've forgotten anything or if you're wondering about anything. I can't guarantee that I have a good answer because I might not even have thought about it myself, but I can always try to come up with something. I am one person, I'm afraid I haven't been able to take everything about a script into consideration.

Now, without further ado; here is the key.

No, your eyes didn't deceive you: there are two versions. The first has a bit more loose squiggles than the second one. I realised that when I was writing physically, the second version was much nicer to write, so it is kind of like Simplified Parselscript. I haven't decided yet if I'm gonna put some lore behind it or not yet. But I included the og one if you're a tryhard and wanna take it on.

Now, if you're gonna start writing it yourself, here is the stroke order.

I tried to make it as clear as possible but please ask me if you're confused on anything.

Red is the starting point of the whole symbol, the arrows indicate the direction to go in, x marks the start of the small extra's.

Now, I'd also recommend writing on some type of paper with vertical lines like this if you're gonna do it physically.

You can just turn a paper with normal, horizontal lines a quarter to get vertical lines. Also, do NOT write in between the lines. They are meant to help you keep the start and ending on the same line so you don't start going into crazy directions while writing. So, start your sentence symbol or hook or whatever in the middle of the line and try to keep coming back to that vertical line after every letter. As you gain more proficiency you'll probably go straight into the next letter without going back to the line all the time but I think this is a good starting point.

I also recommend writing with a fountain pen or something else that flows well because it’s easier to write that way.

Here is another rough draft I made on physical paper to get a feel for it. As you can see this draft had a lot more different starting characters and ending characters so just ignore that. Hope this motivates you a bit or smth.

Lmk if you want me to post a video of me writing in this Parselscript.

Also please let me know if you know of someone else who's also made a Parselscript because I tried to look for it on Tumblr and Twitter etc but I couldn't find anything.

I also feel like there’s a big mistake I made that I realised the last time I worked on this script but I’ve forgotten it now so if you find out please comment or dm or anything💀

Also feel free to use in your own fic, tho a little tiny shoutout in the a/n would be nice :) I’m @/kiwi_cult on Ao3, @/slvtr_ on Wattpad, @/kiwi cult on ff.net, @/slvtr.1 on TikTok and @/.slvtr on Discord.

Credits:

@natis-balamnimaja @asterialvia and @/zee (who unfortunately left the server and I don't know the Tumblr @ of) for brainstorming with me and @isalisewrites for inspiring us and making the server we discussed this in.

Okay bye :) tell me if I forgot anything.

🥝

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 20

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n this is dedicated to the three readers who left such lovely messages after the last chapter, particularly the one who left a long list of tags when reblogging the masterlist yesterday. just a reminder that i love and appreciate you, and your comments mean the world <3

previous | masterlist | next

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You're sitting in a small, empty waiting room, away from the hustle and noise of the main room, when I.N flies through the open doorway and straight across the room, his feet moving so fast that you swear he almost crashes into the wall on the other side.

"Hide me," he says, sliding onto the floor on the far side of your seat.

You blink in confusion, frowning as you look down at him. "What?" 

"From Changbin," he says, his breath hitching in his throat like he's been running for miles, and aggressively waves a hand towards the door. "Don't look down here. Hide me."

"I.N-AH!" Changbin's voice cries in the hallway as if summoned by the very mention of his name, the final syllable drawn out long and loud. The sound, and the grimace that covers I.N's face in response as he sits there curled against the wall makes you crack a smile, your eyes tearing away from him and back to your phone screen just in time to feign innocence as Changbin appears in the open doorway, a wide grin on his face as his eyes search the visible parts of the room.

"I.N-ah~," he calls, cajolingly now, and leans through the door as if that will be enough to entice the younger boy out, to make him forget about the deranged yelling that had followed him down the hallway just a moment before. "Come on, I.N-ah. I just want to give you my love."

From behind him, you spy Hyunjin with a camera in one hand, hovering over Changbin's shoulder as he hesitates to come into the room. His other hand is covering his mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. "He's not in here," you tell them, resisting every urge to look down at the boy hiding behind your chair - or to break, a laugh trying its hardest to bubble up to the surface of your lips no matter how hard you shove it down. "He ran past going that way." You point out to the hall again, in the direction Changbin had been heading.

Changbin stares at you for a moment, eyes narrowed like he's trying to figure out if you're lying or not. "I saw him come in here," he says, but only like he's testing the waters - not like he's sure of the fact, or willing to defend it with his life.

A smile creeps across your face. "You're seeing things again," you say, and watch him scoff and bluster, withdrawing from the doorway. 

"Our noona is lying to me," he says to the camera, and then giggles when he looks back to see the look on your face before he leaves, saying something to Hyunjin that you can't quite hear when their voices fade down the hallway, following their footsteps.

Several seconds later, I.N climbs out of hiding, circling around you to slump onto the other end of the couch in a sigh of relief. "I knew I could trust you," he says, a hand tossing his hair away from his forehead and then reaching to drag his own phone out of his pocket.

"Is this what you usually do for your vlogs?" you ask in return, your phone sinking into your lap. "A lot of screaming and running around?"

A wry smile crosses I.N's face. "Changbin does that anyway. Hyunjin just happened to be holding the camera when he grabbed me." He pauses, and then adds, "Isn't this how every practice goes too?"

You shrug. "There's usually less chasing. Maybe it's just because the practice rooms are smaller."

"And they can lock the zoo animals in with us." You snort a laugh and lift your phone again, your restless scroll continuing. Several seconds of silence stretch between you before I.N comes up with another question. "What are you doing in here alone?"

"Nothing," you sigh, and the phone drops away from your field of vision again, replaced with the sight of the other side of the room. White walls, folding tables covered in mess, abandoned chairs. Boring. Thoughtless. "Trying to find something to do that isn't thinking about tomorrow. I don't know, nothing important."

"You could always poke Changbin into tackling you," I.N suggests lightly. "Usually when that happens to me, I can't even remember what I was doing before."

You wince at the thought of it; so far, you've stayed away from the roughhousing that occasionally breaks out and you'd not intended to get involved in the future. Not as a victim, anyway. "I'm good, thanks," you reply wryly, making light of the curl of anxiety that rattles at your ribcage for no particular reason. "It was really loud up there earlier, so I came down here."

"I should have come with you," he sighs. "I didn't know we were being nervous in peace down here."

The way you look at him, head turning sharply and eyes narrowing as your thoughts race to catch up, makes him do a double take, confusion clouding his eyes. "You're nervous?" you ask; and sure, it's not so strange when you think about it and remember the jitter of nerves that crawls up and down your spine every time you go near that stage, but for him to feel like that too, a whole day before you go out there and do the job you came here to do? Surely, after three years, it got easier than that. Surely he couldn't be that nervous.

"Probably not as much as you are," he tells you, "but yeah. It's a big stage, and there's a new song-"

He stops like he is going to say more and then drops it, the end of his sentence hanging unfinished in the air. "I thought you'd be more...used to it, by now," you say, a hand waving in the air vaguely like that will help to explain your case. "Not that you wouldn't be nervous at all, but..."

"I think the others are," I.N says, leaning back into the cushions of the couch with a shrug that slumps his shoulders downward. His hands fiddle idly with his phone in his lap, snapping the case on and off as he thinks. "I feel like I'm still learning though, like you. That's why Lee Know teaches me a lot."

You're aware that you're staring at him like he's crazy, but he takes it in stride, not even flinching under your scrutiny. "If you're this good and still learning, I've got no hope," you tell him, and then you slump back too, one leg sliding up under you so that you can lean on your shoulder.

He openly scoffs at you. "You're just as good as me. And you came in here and just started...fitting in and working."

"That's a lie," you insist, but the absurdity of it all makes a breathy laugh bubble up from inside your chest, easing the tension that keeps building there. "I don't think I fitted in at all when I started. Sometimes I still can't believe that I'm actually going to make it to debut; or that I even belong here."

I.N's lips twist, his eyes softening. "Sometimes I don't either," he admits.

You laugh again, this noise far more undignified than the last one. "Wild thing to say when you've been in a successful group for three years."

The look he gives you is cutting, his eyebrows raised high. "Yeah?" he questions. "And you saying you're not going to debut is any different?"

"I haven't debuted yet, global idol," you point out. 

"Because tomorrow is so far away," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"Technically, I don't debut until an official comeback," you argue.

"You think you're just going to leave after performing with us tomorrow?" he scoffs. "Be more serious. It's embarrassing for you."

"I am being serious!"

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm calling Changbin to come and get you."

"Not if I leave first."

You stare at each other for several seconds, your phone raised in the air between you like a threat. I.N is the first to break, lips pinching together tight in an effort to swallow the smile that eventually breaks them, the giggle that bubbles up at how stupid an argument this is. "Don't call Changbin," he says, breaking about as fast as you'd expected him to. "I'll break your phone."

"Who are you, Seungmin?" you question; your phone moves out of his reach anyway, just in case. "You spend too much time together."

"Only since you came," I.N throws out carelessly. "He won't leave me alone." The way he says it is innocuous, like he truly doesn't mean anything by the words, and you believe it; but still, it sticks in your mind.

"No one leaves you alone," you point out, carefully stepping around the implication that Seungmin likes hanging out with you. Or taking care of you. Or something. "You're too cute to ignore."

The face I.N pulls is disgusted, the mirror image of the expression he gives the other boys when they start paying him too much attention. "Maybe you spend too much time with Changbin," he suggests.

The dryness of his tone is funny enough to make you laugh, the noise bursting unbidden from your mouth. "I'm just stating a fact," you assure him. "You're cursed with that face. There's nothing you can do about it now."

"Have you ever toured in Australia?" you ask some time after Chan has taken over the laptop again, your career as Stray Kids' producer as short lived as it was spontaneous. You're sitting now in one of the armchairs from across the room, dragged over next to the table in the pretense of having any kind of input in whatever he is doing as he fiddles endlessly with the details of Han's song.

"We went last year," Chan says, glancing up at you. "Why?"

You shrug carelessly, leaning back in your chair. "Just wondering. I haven't been back in a while. It'd be nice to go one day."

He pauses a moment longer, his hands on the keyboard. "How long is 'a while'?"

You realise you might have made a mistake when your lips press together around the answer, reluctant to give it. "Since I came to Korea?" you spit out eventually, when the tension in the air reaches the breaking point between too late to answer and not saying anything at all. 

The look he gives you says everything he needs to, though his mouth opens to back it up anyway. "You haven't been home in - six years?"

"Sixish," you confirm. "Something like that."

"Why?" he presses. "You've never had a holiday?"

"I've never had time," you say defensively. "Every time my holidays came up, I was working on evaluations or something, so I just never got there."

He shakes his head, returning to his work. "We'll tour in Australia," he says, like it's a promise that is his to keep, not some employee of the company whose name you don't know. "And you'll get a holiday before that."

"Why do I feel like you're going to force me to take a holiday?" you ask, drawing your legs up underneath you.

The look that he shoots at you between edits on his computer screen is withering enough to belong on Minho's face - and without words attached, his gaze saying what it wants all by itself. "Did you take every holiday you had as a trainee?" you ask. 

"Most of them," he answers primly. "And I went home a couple of times too. Like a normal trainee."

"Don't call me weird," you say, but there's no heat behind your voice - only the weakness, maybe, when the realisation of how much time and distance has stretched between you and a place you keep calling home, brushes up against your mind. You hold it at arm's length rather than embracing it, unwilling to sit here and cry about it on a night like this. 

"You're not weird," he answers. "Just unsocialised."

"Unsocialised?"

The incredulous look you give him is met with a laugh, the sound of it high and infectious as it invades the room. "No one ever taught you how to do anything except work," he explains. 

"Hey," you say, as if you're offended. "I'm fun. I know how to have fun."

"How to have fun at work," he insists. 

"Are we not having fun right now?" you question.

"And what are we doing right now?" he fires back, pointing at his laptop.

It takes you several seconds to realise the corner he's backed you into, your eyes tracking from the laptop to him several times. "Working," you sigh in defeat and wrap your arms around your knee, drawing it up towards your chest like a shield as you sag into the back of your seat.

"It's okay," Chan says smugly. "At least you are fun to hang out with. Some people don't even have that going for them."

"I'm so fun," you insist, knowingly doubling down to avoid having to accept the compliment. "Companies can't resist me. Teachers never want me to debut and leave their classes. I'm the most fun person in the world."

"Everything you just said was about work," he points out with a wolfish grin.

You sigh again, loud enough that he can't miss it. "Maybe it's all I think about," you allow. "Maybe after this and comeback, I could make time for something else."

"After comeback?" he echoes. "That's another month away."

"And yet, it haunts me."

A smile pulls at his lips, but he doesn't reply, distracted by whatever he's fixing on his laptop. You wait as he listens to the song, running one part over and over again and fiddling with a fine detail you can't see or hear, even if you were the one looking at it. 

His voice catches you by surprise when he speaks a minute or so later, your ears just grown used to the comfortable silence that had fallen over the room. "I never asked why they took you out of Midnight."

"Oh." You sit back, rubbing at your tired eyes. "I didn't 'fit the image they had for the group'. Not pretty enough."

"I'm sure that wasn't exactly what they meant," Chan says slowly.

An acerbic smile twists at your mouth. "Maybe," you allow. "I don't know. It's the obvious answer - have you seen Midnight? They're all insanely beautiful, and I'm just - okay, I guess."

You have a feeling, as you watch Chan's brow furrow and his eyes narrow in thought, that you might have revealed your thoughts to the wrong boy first. Maybe you should have told Minho instead, or Seungmin or Jeongin, friends that would tell you you're wrong at an arm's length. Chan is a fixer, on top of everything else that he does, and that look in his eyes is only an indication that he's finally narrowed in on his next project.

"Well, you're a better visual than all of us in SKZ," he says, the firm tone of his voice only confirming your suspicions. "And I don't mind if we never look as good as Midnight."

"Lying is such a bad habit, Bang Chan," you say lightly, trying to lift the suffocating, sombre blanket of air that has fallen over the room. "I look at you guys every day. I know how pretty you are."

"You lied first," he scoffs. "Saying you're ugly. You can't just go around spreading rumours like that."

"I didn't say ugly," you argue. "I just said I don't stand a chance next to those other girls."

"Liar," he insists, and struggles to swallow a grin.

"I'm not!" You sit up straight in your chair, the energy that suddenly rushes to your voice unexpected. You realise only a moment later that you've spoken too loud for a hotel room in the middle of the night and swallow down the way that your heart picks up pace and a smile fights for control of your face, lowering your volume before you continue. "I'm telling you, the bar is so high. I waited four years for that debut, and some of those girls just walked in and got a place. Not that they didn't deserve it, but like..."

"Lee Know did that," Chan points out. "Debuted in six months."

"Do you know Ellie?" you ask; and to your surprise, he nods. "I think she was here for weeks before they added her to the predebut lineup. I feel like I don't even really know her, she's been here for so short a time. And she knows idols from all kinds of groups already - the more I think about it, the more I'm like...how did I even think I had a chance? Maybe I should have just known I wouldn't debut."

"Maybe you were just always meant to be here with us," Chan offers before you can spiral any further down that particular rabbit hole - pulling you out into the light, shovel and all, like it is nothing to him. "Lee Know nearly got taken out of the group too, you know. Maybe the people making these decisions just don't know what they're doing."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. "Really?" you ask, distracted by this new piece of information. "I need to watch your survival show. I've missed so many key points."

"No," he groans again, burying his head in his hands. "We're not watching that. Forget anyone ever mentioned it."

"All of you need to get your story straight," you tell him. "Seungmin says I need to watch every piece of content ever filmed, you tell me not to watch any of it; how am I supposed to know what to do?"

"You should know not to listen to Seungmin by now," Chan says. 

"I think we should watch it," you counter just as quickly. "I think it's a great idea."

"No," he insists. "It's four AM. Go to bed. Don't watch bad TV shows."

"You just told me I need a new hobby."

"Get a normal hobby."

"Watching reality TV is a normal hobby."

"Don't watch the show."

You swallow a smile, struggling to keep a straight face as you stand and stretch, your feet wandering one step at a time towards the door. "I'm going to watch the show," you tell him, deadpan. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning."

"No," he complains again, like if he says it enough he'll be able to stop you. He makes no effort to do anything else though; just sits there and looks pathetic, weighing up whether whining is worth it or not. "Go to sleep."

"Are you going to sleep?" you ask pointedly, taking in the sight of him sitting there at the table, his work still open on his laptop.

The moment that he notices, he closes the laptop, dragging himself out of his own chair. "Yes," he claims, too bold for someone who is always up at this hour. "You know what I'm not doing?"

"What?"

"Watching that show in the middle of the night."

The way he says it makes you crack, a laugh huffing from your throat just before you choke on it and the effort of holding it down. It makes him laugh too, the sound escaping all too easily from his mouth. "Goodnight," you say before he can celebrate his victory, backing towards the door. 

"Goodnight," he echoes, his smile softening his voice and lighting up his face in a familiar, joyous way. Your feet don't hesitate at the sound of it, but your heart does, your chest aching for something you don't think you've ever had, but maybe you have found - your spine crawling at the thought of it being over, even though you will wake up in the morning and he will still be here, and all the others will be around you too, and-

And you will debut, on that stage, in front of the thousands of people that love them even more than you do.

You try to leave the thought behind you as you close the door, back there with Chan, who will have the sense to throw it in the trash where it belongs, but it sticks to you, echoing in the hallway as you take the short walk back to your own quiet room, slinking around incessantly in the shadows when you turn off the lights and slide underneath the covers of your bed, resolving to at least lie here until the alarm goes off in the morning.

Tomorrow, you will debut.

Tomorrow, you will debut.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[motimatcha]

"nostromo"

PART 1. The Nostromo Killer.

parts: one | two | three | four | five

dbd Xenomorph (alien) x fem!reader. attention: not detailed murder, feeling of fear, chase. I'm a vicious child of the internet and I have nothing to be ashamed of! And so are you.

The World of the Essence is multifaceted and large, but even taking into account this knowledge, hardly anyone could imagine something like this. The knowledge of where you ended up naturally appears in your head: the Nostromo crash site is a location unknown to anyone, large and open, with a minimum number of bushes in which you could hide from the soulless eyes of the killer, but you were pleased with a large number of smooth, different-sized stones, behind which, theoretically, you can hide.

You found yourself alone. On one side there was an exit from the monster’s lair, on the other side there was a smoking and collapsing spaceship, which was ready to explode at any moment if a person stepped on board carelessly. Your gaze glances across the sky, and although you know that it is not real, you cannot help but be surprised by its beauty: a large satellite against the backdrop of billions of stars illuminates your path in the darkness.

However, there was not a second to lose if you wanted to at least escape from the Nostromo; the four of them could only hope and pray to the Entity to escape.

There is a generator behind you, two more stand out against the gray background inside the fallen ship - it is better to get rid of this triangle, first of all, without giving the killer an advantage. This was a new trend - a fashion - for the “triangle”, as other survivors called this phenomenon, and it must be said that it was very successful, since not many managed to break this vicious “circle” and escape, at least through the hatch.

Thinking about this and hoping that the new (really new?) killer won’t figure this out, you finish repairing the generator, when at the same second you hear a scream from one of your comrades. Very far away, the aura is barely visible, and you can only see a vague red dot between the opened outline of another generator and the two previous ones. A lump forms in your throat, and cold sweat runs down your temple. The thoughts in your head become chaotic: should you go to the rescue? Continue repairing generators? What if someone has already gone to help and you lose precious time?

You can't take risks in new terrain. You don't know where the windows and planks are to escape the killer, and the limited number of places to hide only makes matters worse. With heavy thoughts, your only solution is to continue repairing the generators and hope that someone will save the wounded man.

It's loud and scary on board the Nostromo. Jets of either hot or hungry steam emerge from all the cracks, sparks are heard from damaged equipment, and blood and its smell will forever remain on board. You walk around a couple of corpses of former crew members, trying not to even look at the cause of their death. Every step you take echoes through the empty corridors, but eventually you reach another generator in splendid isolation. The equipment turns out to be a little more than half wound up; Apparently, before being hung on a hook, someone was painstakingly fixing the local generator.

“Thanks for your hard work…” You close your eyes for a second to show your mental gratitude to the other survivor before getting to work. You're almost done with the generator before you make a ridiculously stupid mistake. Sparks, a loud explosion and nervously shaking hands. - “If only he didn’t come! If only he hadn’t come!” - you pray, frantically sorting through the wires in the generator, just to make up for the lost result.

Somewhere below there is a noise of muffled groans. Man, old man… apparently it's Bill! He was repairing the generator and was able to escape from the killer. A joyful thought crosses your mind, but immediately disappears when the seasoned veteran suddenly falls to the ground from the blow, an inhuman cry of victory is heard.

Heart beats faster, like a cornered animal. Thudum, thudum, thudum, thudum.

You walk away from the generator as if from a red-hot piece of iron, afraid to even look in its direction. There were seconds left before you could finish it to one hundred percent, but the fear for your own life was much stronger. Peering out of a hole in the spaceship's hull, you notice a new killer - a creature from outer space. Moving on four legs, having sharp claws as a weapon and a long tail similar to the edge of a knife, you understand that it is unlikely that anyone will be able to escape.

Bill was lucky, he was the first to suffer.

The creature, clad in a durable black shell, lifted the man in front of him to carry him to the nearest hook. Having seen a lot in his life, the old man did not resist, he himself understood that he could not escape the grip of the Entity under his ribs, and therefore did not delay the moment. With a wave passing through the earth, the Entity took the first survivor into its possession. At the same time, like a ray of hope, another generator was repaired. If you return to fixing your generator now, the three survivors will be able to escape.

That's what you thought. So you set to work with enthusiasm, and then one woman’s scream was heard, then another… and now you were left alone, on the Nostromo, next to the working generator. Going somewhere seemed risky, but you could try to save someone still hanging on the hook, while simultaneously praying that you wouldn’t get caught.

Climbing up the wall on trembling legs, you take a bold step forward. Then the second, third, and so on until you reach a fork: you can go straight to your first generator or turn left, going to the last generator from the triangle where your comrades are hanging. It was impossible to take a detour, if only because you would lose precious time and other survivors, by the time you came to the rescue, would sooner find themselves in the arms of the Entity. You had no options…

What had once been a meeting hall or a dining room was now a deplorable sight, because half of the spaceship was shamelessly destroyed and its fragments here and there were stuck deep into the ground. Having looked around the clearing under your feet and the crash site, you quickly find Claudette’s gaze and a girl unknown to you hanging a little behind.

“No! Get out of here!” Morel screams heart-rendingly before engaging in battle with the entity. “He's behind… behind you!” the last thing the girl manages to shout before the spider-like appendage of the Entity pierced her stomach and lifted her into the air. The stranger followed her.

It was scary to turn around. It seems that if you don’t look at the problem, it will disappear on its own, but in reality you feel and hear heavy footsteps behind you, the grinding of metal from the collision with the tail blade, and breathing. Hot, heavy, wet. The creature stands close behind you, with the skin of your back you can clearly feel the loaded plates and bones of the exoskeleton. Thick saliva drips onto your shoulder, viscous, like glue, and will be difficult to wash off your clothes.

“God, what are these thoughts in my head?” - a thought occurs to you before a nervous chuckle escapes your lips. This is from nerves, from the awareness of imminent death.

The creature hisses, its voice is surprisingly high and shrill, and then next to your head, almost centimeters away, there is an incomprehensible something. Everything is covered in saliva, it turns slightly at an angle, first one way, then the other, and the fangs (God, it has fangs!) seem to bite the air. Or maybe it sniffs like that?

There is no strength left to move. Not when there is a strange something dangerously close to your head, the owner of which is standing behind your back, one of whose arms can clasp your entire body and inadvertently break it. You don't want to check the latter. The creature speaks again, and then you understand – it’s time to run!

The energy accumulated over many seconds passes into the legs. You start from your place, as Meg taught you, and run straight along the stones and pieces of metal. The creature, slightly behind you, ran after you and tried to hook you with its sharp claws; slash across the back, and deep enough to leave scars. And although the latter will still disappear, they will be cured in the world of essence, the feeling of blood on the back, skin torn to the flesh and bones, is not pleasant. You turn sharply to the side, just at the moment when a huge paw whistles dangerously close behind you and rushes towards another, smaller, destroyed spaceship.

Perhaps out of fear, but you thought there was a hatch there.

Luck was on your side. Perhaps the offering in the form of a jar of Vigo worked, or maybe the entity itself decided to take pity on you, but you manage to get to the hatch. And before you fall into the fog, you sneak a second to look behind yourself.

The killer stands motionless in place. The killer is watching. And you understand

It is remembered It is developing.

this paragraph:

This work was written as part of the game dead by daylight, because, despite my familiarity with films, it is simply easier for me to write in the setting of this game. If you're not familiar with the game, but want to read how the Xenomorph does its dark work, you're welcome.

should have been at the beginning of the text. I decided to remove it, don’t ask why.

[toskarin]

one thing that gets lost extremely often when talking about stg (which is to say japanese shmups specifically) in western fandom is that there are several distinct lineages of them that are entirely distinct

below the break, an off-the-cuff (in other words I may be misremembering finer details so don't quote me as an educational source) ramble on STG/shmup design

or, more vaguely, a ramble on taking things for granted

I've gone ahead and included section headers because this is such a long rant, but this isn't an essay or anything. this is me transcribing a stream of consciousness. it's like I'm rambling at you in a pub

you've been warned

-

[1] The Easy Stuff or: quickly defining some things so that I don't go insane trying to describe the Y2K stg revival

the two that immediately come to mind are the "mechanics-side complexity" and the "stage-side complexity" schools of thought. these aren't official terms, but every time I read interviews from stg developers, they gesture towards these competing concepts in their own words. so I'll use be going off of that.

also it's going to get REALLY clunky if I keep using those terms, so I'll use mech+ and stage+ to refer to mechanics-side and stage-side complexity going forward

the mech+ way of going about things is arguably the original school of thought. this is extremely arguable because it was an innovation that started happening in the late 90s and early 2000s (most seem to point to Treasure games as the inciting force here, especially the leap from Radiant Silvergun to Ikaruga) and was, itself, a reaction to a perceived stalling in the development of stg as a genre

(as an aside, this isn't the only time that stg was seen as stalling out and experienced a very notable revival, but we'll circle back to that in a bit)

the argument I've seen come up in response to this is that stage+ design was, itself, a reaction to this and can't really be considered the same as developers making games like that as the norm, because it's not necessarily an attempt to make "traditional" stg.

I'm of two minds on this, but I do think it's at least useful to look at it in terms of...

[difficulty from stage design with a simple craft is the assumed default] -> [mechanical difficulty is consciously leaned into, creating the mech+ school of thought] -> [in reaction to the increasing mechanical complexity of post-Radiant Silvergun games, the stage+ school of thought emerges in earnest]

either way, the fact of the matter is, somewhere around Y2K, developers started making games where the challenge was consciously moved into the space of mechanical demands. people had opinions on this

some developers say that this was in response to older games feeling more like dodging games than shooting games, but that's ALSO a highly contested point (saying this will start fights) and gives away that someone is firmly in the mech+ camp

the experiences of playing a mech+ game and playing a stage+ game are so wildly different that you can usually tell which you're playing just by looking at the controls of the game

when making a stg (and by proxy, when making a shmup) it's actually pretty important to figure out where you stand on this, just so that you don't waste your time reinventing the wheel

not to say that it's bad to make a simple game, but there's definitely a difference between making a deliberate retro homage and unknowingly making a game that feels extremely dated by the standards of its own genre

before we go any further, here's a warning: my information (and memory) of what's coming up is very spotty, so if you already know about what led to DoDonPachi releasing, you won't get much out of this bit

this is mostly aimed at people whose knowledge of the 80s-90s video games begins and ends with assuming the USA video game crash was universal, so feel free to skip to like... the last three sentences if the name "Toaplan" rings any bells

[2] Circling Back or: the messiest part of the ramble where I quickly try to give some context on the early-mid-90s stg revival

speaking of retro homage, let's circle back for a second to that other stalling I mentioned a bit earlier

in the early 90s, there was a bit of a collapse in stg. not quite a full stop, but as a genre that had been around basically as long as video games had, it was quickly turning into something companies saw as a dated format, so they started getting a bit antsy about dedicating their A-teams to making new ones

the problem with doing this is that a lot of these A-teams got their starts pioneering this genre and still felt passionate about it, in spite of how the state of stg had started to (by some accounts) become a game-mill for filling out arcade cabinets

intensifying things a bit further, this period coincides almost exactly with Toaplan (one of the biggest players in the development of the stg genre) dropping stg development, exploding, and scattering its employees all over the place

so, as one might imagine, those A-teams started making highly reinventive pitches for stg, which they still wanted to make, to convince their management to let them do it. alongside this, the employees of Toaplan who still believed in the genre founded their own companies (Cave being a VERY notable mention) to continue their work

(Takumi Corporation also gets a mention here so that people don't kill me with hammers for forgetting it)

I'm a bit spottier on what exactly happened in this window, but the important takeaway is that this was something a lot of developers saw happening, and it effectively rewound the genre's development, nudging it away from the (at the time) popular idea that sidescrollers were going to be the future of Everything, and that top down perspective looked extremely dated

a lot of very innovative games released here, a lot of genre shifts happened here.

if you're going to draw a line anywhere and mark it as the beginning of the modern genre, I think this is realistically where you should do it

this is the point where people really chose to die on the hill that stg wasn't a genre that emerged solely from technological limitations or a need for cheap fodder, but a distinctive tradition of games that should be continued in meaningful ways

[3] Okay Here's Touhou or: I almost get to the point

in the midst of the latter revival, fomented by the former revival, programmers at larger companies were also working on smaller hobby projects that they would release in a doujin capacity, independent of their employers

ZUN is the name I've been dancing around here, because he was very much doing this will working at Taito (and also shortly before it)

I'm not going to get into his full backstory, because now we're in the fast part of this ramble

the most important thing to mention about ZUN's work is that the PC-98 Touhou games aren't representative of the design behind the Windows ones. he was never coming at it from a position of insincerity, but he was much less serious about Touhou early on

I'm not just saying this in a "ZUN developed his vision over the years" sense. Highly Responsive to Prayers was literally a programming experiment he made two years prior to Story of Eastern Wonderland, and likely because of this, he only released the former when the latter was also ready to be released

one thing that gets lost in retelling with the PC-98 games is that they aren't actually all that unique in the genre. even to the extent that they're music-forward games that serve as vessels for their soundtracks, that still wasn't especially unique at the time

so, if Touhou hadn't undergone design philosophy changes between its eras, it likely wouldn't have its current presence. the PC-98 era is absolutely more fondly remembered because it exists in the context of being followed by a series so influential that it's the de facto face of the genre in several countries

in 1998 came the last game in the PC-98 series, Mystic Square. during the four years between this and 2002, the latter revival of the modern stg was in full swing, and this really shows in the direction that the series (which would be easy to classify as stage+ in the PC-98 era) would go on to take

[4] Okay Here's Windows Touhou or: I actually get to the point

Windows Touhou is enormously influential. it is INESCAPABLE.

it's also incredibly good! I'm notably a fan. I dedicated a pretty reasonable amount of flesh real estate to a respectably sized Touhou tattoo

that being said, this does mean that, on average, someone outside of japan with a passing (but active) interest in the stg genre is very likely going to land on Touhou as their series of choice and stick with it. it's one of those cases where a very popular entry into a genre ends up being popular for a reason

but (importantly for someone trying to figure out genre norms by reverse-engineeering them) Touhou isn't a generic stg

Touhou is actually such a specific offshoot that it warrants a separate mention in conversations about how these games are made

Touhou games are so distinctive within the genre that they arguably dip into both schools of design and come out as a weird third one that subdivides off of stage+ -- although, to be fair, it's been increasingly leaning into the mech+ corner of things as the series goes on, which makes sense because Embodiment of Scarlet Devil released after the initial split and the reaction to it

the entire reason Touhou goes so far to contrive a reason behind everyone using spellcards is because they're actually an abnormal mechanic. spellcards are one of Touhou's hooks!

most stg do have similar stuff in terms of attack patterns (especially post-DoDonPachi games, with how those codified the concept of danmaku) but Touhou's big innovation was placing so much emphasis on their presentation, giving the individual patterns names, and establishing them as setting flavour

so this often cuts in the obvious way, with people who have only played Touhou including the spell card system wholesale without realising they're doing a direct homage to just one game series but it also cuts in the opposite direction, with people getting confused about the absence of Touhou-standard features in stg that aren't being designed as Touhou homage

everything I'm about to say is about non-beginner projects. we're talking about things that see release here. there isn't really a clean way for me to draw a conclusion, but it's something that rattles around my brain a lot

on one side of the modern western shmup scene, you have games that are based primarily on ancient stg that have long since been lapped several times over in mechanical innovation. on the other side of the western shmup scene, you have lovingly made games that are almost all entirely based on what can be gleaned from Touhou

in the former case, you get very stiff gameplay that tends to feel satisfied with very slight gestures at innovation, but only ends up retreading a very thoroughly tread path

in the latter case, you either get very loose gameplay that lacks in one of the elements that makes Touhou work or you get a very competent game that nevertheless still does just kind of feel like a Touhou fangame

there's a good bit of middle ground where people are actually working in the genre as it exists, but it reminds me a lot of the state of western-made jrpgs, where Final Fantasy was so popular that a solid chunk of the better modern releases are still basing their genre twists on things that have already been twisted into gordian knots

do I have a solution? is there a problem? who even knows. it'd be nice if people were more willing to look at stuff in the process of making stuff, at least

also if you've read this far, I can at least make a safe bet that you won't get mad when I say the ghost of Morrowind, by way of Oblivion comparably poisoned the western sandbox rpg genre in its own right

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for yesdangerpls; Smallville does not approve of Clark Kent's parenting style. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I’ll tell them you said hello,” Clark says as he smiles at Cathy again and immediately gets outright glowered at for it. 

“Why don’t you tell Conner we all said hello,” she says frostily, then stalks away into the back without so much as a “goodbye”, which is practically a declaration of war in Smallville, and Clark . . . isn’t really sure what to think. 

Definitely isn’t sure what to think. 

“Uh, thank you, Cathy!” he calls after her, because that’s the usual script they follow. Cathy doesn’t even look back at him; just disappears between the shelves. She didn’t even tell him to say anything to Ma and Pa. 

That’s–definitely not normal behavior from her. Smallville isn’t without its curmudgeons and malcontents and just overall rude people, obviously, but Cathy Mueller isn’t one of them. Normally she’ll talk his ear off any time she sees him catching him up on her life and how her boys and her sister’s girls are doing, at minimum, and if he gives her the time he’ll hear all three of her husbands’ full life stories from cradle to grave and every single local bit of gossip that’s dropped since he was last in town, as if she doesn’t know Ma hasn’t already told him everything decent to hear on their weekly calls anyway. 

He doesn’t know what’s wrong, but given she brought up Conner twice . . . well, the kid’s well-intentioned and has a good heart, but he’s also an incorrigible flirt with very little sense of propriety and timing and an unfortunate tendency for property destruction. Clark’s not sure the kid even understands why other people value property, sometimes. You’d think the kid had never owned a damn thing in his life himself, he swears. 

He supposes he’ll have to talk to Ma and Pa, see if they know what he might’ve done to set Cathy off. She’s nearly their age, so a little old for even Conner to have been inappropriate at, and her kids are all boys, so it can’t have been any of them either. Though he supposes Conner might’ve made a pass at one of her nieces, or maybe Misty Woodhouse–she’s been dating Cathy’s boy Ben since junior high. Or maybe just a girl her Davis is interested in. Trevor’s still in junior high himself, though, so he’s probably not in Conner’s current social circle. Clark isn’t sure which kids Conner’s actually been hanging out with, but given his usual behavior and interests, it’s probably mostly been the cheerleaders. 

Yes, that’d be enough to cause some friction with the local boys, he thinks to himself with a resigned little sigh, taking Pa’s shopping back out to the farm truck and loading it up. He could’ve flown, obviously, and gotten here in the blink of an eye, but he likes making the drive to town and back. It’s nostalgic; clears his head. Gives him a bit of time to think.

Unfortunately, this particular drive he’s apparently going to be spending trying to figure out what the hell Conner did to set off Cathy Mueller enough to take it out on him.

[glitterguts13]

Dan Heng struggling in labor but he’s egg-bound? 👀 Just leaving that here

Honestly, I'm ashamed of myself for not thinking of this sooner!

This isn't supposed to be happening.

"Try to relax as much as you can." another cup of warm water is poured down his aching back while Himeko whispers gentle encouragements. The bathroom was small enough, but with five people crammed inside it was downright claustrophobic.

Eyes closed, a low, pained hum slipping from his throat, Dan Heng clings a little tighter onto Caelus, face buried into his neck.

This wasn't supposed to be happening.

He wasn't supposed to be able to have children, and he certainly wasn't supposed to be egg-bound of all things.

"How far are we from the nearest port?" Dan Heng finally pulls away, dark circles under his puffy, tear-stained eyes.

"Pom-Pom says a day and a half, at the least." March paces nervously right outside the bathroom door, chewing her lip.

"I'm not going to make it another day and a half-" A strangled moan catches in his chest, a soft sob bursting out as his swollen belly contracts around the stubborn egg once more.

"You're going to be just fine," Himeko asserts, "We'll figure this out."

"It's been three days!" voice cracking with emotion, Dan Heng finally feels himself breaking down, "It's not coming out...its stuck...I'm going to die, my baby is going to die with me-" his body locks up, a long, desperate wail filling the little bathroom.

Himeko and Welt share a look, the older man carefully hooking his arms under Dan Heng's and hauling him upright. The distressed dragon struggles weakly, barely able to stand on his trembling legs. A trickle of blood trails behind him as he's taken from the warmth of the tub to the cold sheets of a nearby room.

"Stop-stop...please..." he sobs, pride crushed to dust under his feet. The egg sat heavy in his hips, the rounded bottom barely peeking from his leaking hole.

"I'm sorry...I promise, it'll be over soon." being laid onto the bed, Caelus crawls beside of him, running his fingers through his soaking wet hair and smoothing it from his plaid face.

Himeko gives an order to March before shutting the door, and Welt positions himself next to the shivering dragon. Large hands cup the top of his swollen middle, and without warning, he presses down.

Eyes going wide, legs kicking out, Dan Heng screams.

"I'm sorry, I really am," Welt clenches his teeth, pressing down once more.

"Stop! Stop! You're going to break it-!" he screams again, the right ring of muscles starts to burn as the egg is forced lower.

"It's right there...it's stuck on your hips...if we could just get it past it will come right out."

"Just kill me!" the young man sobs.

"Take his legs, hold them back and far as you can." Himeko takes one side, Caelus on the other. Dan Heng finds he lacks the strength to protest, his hips burning wildly as his legs are pulled apart and back, framing his heaving belly.

"Push with me Dan Heng," Welt orders, his hands pressing down as Dan Heng's womb contracts once more. Teeth sinking into his lip, Dan Heng throws his head back, pushing with what little power his exhausted body still held.

All at once, he feels something crack, a pop, and his head is swimming, vision blurring to black.

"Shit."

"Fuck! Was that-"

"Enough, both of you." Himeko hisses, letting go of Dan Heng's leg and pulling him close to her chest.

"It's over...it's over now." she whispers. He sobs weakly, head falling back.

"The egg-"

"Is safe. You did it, you did so well." she smiles softly, allowing Caelus to bring the round, pearlescent object into Dan Heng's line of sight.

Lying him down, she quickly hurries to the bedroom door. Tired eyes closing, all he hears his her whispering frantically to March and Pom Pom to reach the next port quickly.

His hips had broken from the force, but the egg was safe and sound.

[gumnut-logic]

Jeff Tracy lost his wife in childbirth, giving him only one son, but fate gave him so much more.

-o-o-o-

It was a day to end all days.

The meteorite took out his father’s cornfield and the tractor shed.

It also landed only a week after he lost his wife in childbirth. All the technology they had and still…

His first born slept quietly in his arms as he stepped out onto the porch. His mother was fortunately still asleep. She had taken it all as a personal failure and was exhausted.

A destroyed tractor shed was minor in comparison.

If he had been himself, he would have rushed to put the fire out and save everything he could. But he wasn’t. Grief had him bowed over his little son who didn’t know what had been taken from him yet. Little Alan, so fragile and precious.

All he had left of Lucille.

The flames flickered orange light over his sleeping face.

He stood their staring at the shed as it eventually came down in a pile of burning rubble. It was loud enough to wake both Allie and his mother.

He was still trying to settle his upset little boy when Jeff was joined by his mom.

“What the hell happened?”

“Would you believe a shooting star?”

She stared up at him in the orange darkness. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head and rocked Allie a little more. That drew his mother’s attention to their newest family member.

Consequently, neither of them saw where the young boy came from. About ten years old he stepped away from the wreckage and approached the Tracys, determination in his eyes.

He said something in a language neither of them could understand. But he led them towards the smoking ruins and a capsule in a crater half buried under the remains of their prize tractor.

Three more young boys were curled up asleep inside what was obviously not a meteorite.

Jeff couldn’t see the colour of his eyes in the darkness, but morning revealed their startling blue.

And a considerable intelligence. The eldest boy was speaking English before the sun rose and his story was of a dying planet, the need for refuge and dead parents.

His visage cracked just a little as he mentioned Jor El.

He had three younger brothers, the youngest little more than a toddler.

It was like Lucy had sent him the family they both wanted from beyond the grave.

When asked why they had landed in the Tracys’ backyard. The answer was simply ‘Eos’.

Jeff didn’t know when the decision to keep the boys was made, how he was going to hide them from the authorities, who, no doubt would be on his front lawn first thing…perhaps it was the dark-haired younger brother crying on the eldest’s shoulder, the toddler drawing circles in the dirt with his finger, or maybe the middle youngest with hair of red-gold that stared at him with no emotion, yet every emotion on his face at one time.

Jeff had worked for the government. Jeff had been in space. Jeff knew what would likely happen.

The eldest had flame in his eyes.

But for whatever reason, the decision was made and Scott, Virgil, John and Gordon Tracy joined their little family and Alan had a whole set of big brothers to look after him.

To protect him for life.

-o-o-o-

Parenting four sons of non-terrestrial origin had its challenges. Scott was his biggest ally and to be honest, Jeff had no idea if he would have been able to manage it without him.

There was also his mother, Kyrano and Ohana, there were plenty of parental figures. But his boys were blatantly more than human.

The day little Gordy fell in the dam and didn’t come out sprouted more grey hair than Jeff thought he was capable of growing. Learning that, for his sons, breathing was optional…

Once Gordon discovered it, there was no keeping him out of the water at all.

Fake scuba diving equipment was invested in eventually, but for years, Jeff and Scott managed to cover for him.

Virgil’s artistic tendencies were another matter. They discovered the apparent ability to throw some kind of laser-like heat beam from their eyes the day Virgil burnt a rendition of the Mona Lisa into the living room wall.

There was a painting spree after that.

But it was John who revealed the most important skill they possessed.

The boy was obsessed with the stars. Jeff wondered if it was a determination to find a way back to where they had come from. Scott spoke rarely of what had happened there, but it was obvious all four boys were traumatised.

John cried out in his sleep, dreams wracking the six-year-old from the very first night in their new home.

He and Scott talked a lot. Jeff tried his best, but there were limits. So sometimes all he could do was be there and hold him as he cried.

As he grew older, the dreams grew fewer, but they always returned.

So it was with a little fear that Jeff watched his third eldest stare up at the stars.

But being the supportive father he was, he built an observatory on the roof. John was often to be found up there, listening to Eos as she spoke of stars humans hadn’t even discovered yet. Sometimes he perched precariously on the railing as if he was a bird who could launch himself into the sky and fly away.

And one day he did.

Perhaps not quite as elegantly as he could have. Jeff had just arrived home from a business trip late one night just in time to see his little stargazer fall off the damned roof.

He fell out of sight and Jeff was out of his car and running for his life. Only to find John spread-eagled mid-air, floating with surprise on his face.

It was chaos after that.

His boys took to the sky like a flock of birds. Even Scott who proved more a natural than should be possible.

The boy found freedom up there.

By this time Jeff had met Hiram Hackenbacker and at the risk of everything, he had let the young scientist in on the secret.

Jeff had needed money to keep his family safe and protected. It was the capsule that provided that income – unbeknownst to the world at large. Small technologies built patents and Jeff, with his business and aeronautical background, Scott’s and Eos’ help, was able to build Tracy Industries and earn far more money than he had initially expected.

The Tracy farm became a fortress of his family’s safety.

Outside its boundaries, they had to act human. Inside, his boys could be themselves, use their skills and play.

But as they grew, it became obvious it was not enough and Jeff began looking for another solution. His boys were good, they wanted to help…everyone.

Hell, Virgil was banned from watching the news and John had blocked him from all the news internet sites.

They hurt him too much when he knew if he was there, he could have helped, saved, all those people.

His boys were good and kind.

So, using the one thing he had that could help, he bought a distant island in the Pacific and with Hiram, who had a heart of gold, and Kyrano, whose heart was even softer, built the infrastructure that would enable them to do good and stay safe at the same time.

International Rescue was born.

No one needed to know the thunder of the sound barrier being broken wasn’t from the rocket engines built into Hiram’s miraculous machines, but from his sons pushing from inside, using the specially designed superstructures built into the craft.

Of course, all the brothers had a different skill set. Scott was obviously made for the sky. Gordon fell in love with the ocean the moment his eyes landed on it. The boy even built his own underwater habitat just to the south of the newly christened Tracy Island. Declared it his ‘fortress of solitude’ just inside the privacy barrier encircling the Island.

And then promptly invited Alan down there for a movie night.

Jeff just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

Perhaps he should have been worried. After all, Alan was simply human and did not possess the various skills of his older brothers.

But if there was anything the four eldest cared about beyond helping people, it was Alan.

Alan had four brothers who would do anything for him. He had to be the safest human on the planet. The four Krytonian children may have been adopted by Jeff and his mother, but they had adopted Alan in return and for all his human frailty, he was safe in their hands.

He flew with Scott and Virgil, swam with Gordon and stargazed with John.

In fact, Jeff was pretty sure it was Alan who kept John on the planet and not amongst the stars he so loved. There was a reason why Thunderbird Five was built, beyond John’s love of those far off points of light.

It was because Alan followed him.

Perhaps in the footsteps of Jeff who had gone to space himself, but here was a brother who could reach the stars unaided.

So, Allie became part of International Rescue, albeit with the protection of the elder four.

Jeff managed the business that kept them hidden and supplied while his boys went out and saved human lives.

It was a good life.

Until one day after a business meeting in London, Jeff met a man by the name of Hood.

Who smiled as he picked Jeff by the front of his shirt.

With one hand.

-o-o-o-

Supermen AU

[jellieland]

This is somewhat inspired by some of the fics @theminecraftbee has written.

---

Two figures watch, from a nebulous nowhere, as Scar stands, alone, in the remains of his destroyed shop.

"I'm sorry," he says, mournfully, to no one.

"You Know," says the first figure, "I Really Wasn't Convinced When You Pitched This One."

Scar does not react. He cannot hear them.

"Yes," says the second, with an air of long-suffering patience. "I Do Know. You Were Very Vocal About It."

"...I really wanted to try and make some friends, this time." Scar, simultaneously right in front of them and a great distance away, sighs and looks up at the sky. "Oh, well. Nothing to be done about it now!"

"I Have Come Around To It," says the first.

"Good," says the second. "I Knew You Would."

They watch Scar start to sort through the mess.

"They Forget They Have A Choice," says the first. "It Is Fascinating."

They move on.

The move on to ash.

Skizz and Tango and Bigb stand right in the thick of it, quiet.

"You try to do one nice thing," says Skizz.

His hands curl into fists. He glares at the smoldering remains of the heart in front of him.

"You try to do ONE nice thing!" he yells, and punches one of the last remaining bits of wood.

Brittle from the fire, it breaks.

"Yeah, well! I guess this is why we don't," says Tango, resigned.

"It was always gonna happen eventually," says Bigb, voice level.

"They Always Try," says the first. "They Always Keep Trying."

"Yes," says the second. "They Chase Each Other In Circles Until All Of Them Are Dead. They Give Themselves Their Own Tasks."

"That Is Not What I Meant," says the first. "But That Is Also True."

They watch the three members of the Heart Foundation stand, for a while, in silence.

And they move on.

They move over to the mesa.

Martyn is standing inside his house, that used to be Jimmy's house too, facing the three chests on the wall labelled "TIMMY", "MUMBO" and "MARTYN".

He is talking animatedly, and gesturing. "-and I kept trying to get them to follow me there, but nobody was taking the bait. Honestly, you guys would've laughed at me. But it-"

They let the rambling fade into the background.

"A Good Dog," says the first.

"Yes," says the second. "He Does As He Is Told."

"-and I've honestly been feeling a bit left out today, isn't that funny? But- Bdubs said, he said he would join me next week, so-"

They move on.

They move to the cobblestone castle, in the side of the hill.

Grian is cooing over a small magma cube named Etho's Dishwasher.

Cleo and Etho are leaning against the staircase watching him.

"Are you both alright?" asks Cleo.

"Sure, I'm fine," says Etho.

"Me?" says Grian, turning around. "Oh, I'm good, I was being a total coward. I just hung around at the top of that tower by the Secret Keeper for ages and none of them ever thought to look up."

"Really?" asks Cleo, amused. "Some of them I would expect that of, but I'd think Gem would be a bit more on the ball."

"Well, apparently not," says Grian.

He turns back to the magma cube, and they settle into quiet.

"I Would Have Expected More Of The Alliances To Have Fallen Apart, By Now," says the first.

"Loyalty Is At Its Most Interesting When It Is Stretched," says the second. "These Three Know It Will Never Last. They Know That All Of Them Are Aware Of This. That Is Why They Are Still Here. They Know How Much They Can Care Without It Being A Lie. And Then Privately, They Care More Than That Anyway."

Eventually, Etho sighs. He looks tired.

He glances from Cleo, to Grian, and back, and after a moment of hesitation, speaks. "I, uh. I'm glad you two survived." He shifts awkwardly, and continues before they can respond. "I thought they were going to try and make me kill you, at one point, and- Grian, I don't know if you know this, but Cleo is scary when she's getting revenge. I did not want to have to worry about that."

Cleo laughs, slightly, and gives Etho a look of the deepest affection. "Well, I did die, is the thing, so thanks for reminding me of that."

"No, no, you knew what I meant! See, Grian? See what it's like?"

"Uh huh," says Grian, raising an eyebrow. "Well, thanks for not killing us."

Cleo frowns at him, suddenly curious. "Grian?" they ask. "Are you the only one who didn't die today?"

Grian opens his mouth, then stops to consider it.

"Or- no, wait. Martyn." says Cleo. "Well. Well done either way."

They watch the trio for a little longer, and then they move on.

They move to Scott.

He is alone, in a forest somewhere.

He is leant up against a cliff face, staring down at the floor.

"None Of Them Even Died, This Time," says the first. "Not Permanently."

"No," says the second. "It Was Controlled. Directed. There To Even The Playing Field. We Can Just Ask Them To Do That, Now, And They Will."

Scott draws his knees up to his chest, and rests his head on his arms.

He doesn't move, or shout, or cry.

He just stays there, quiet.

Eventually, they move on.

They move to the Secret Keeper.

Gem is standing there.

She is looking at it.

"If She Had Decided To Fail At The Start," says the first, "She Most Likely Would Have Lived. She Lost So Much More, Taking Things From Other People, Than The Nothing She Would Have Lost In Failure."

"Yes," says the second. "That Is My Favourite Part."

They watch her.

"Anyway," says the second, "She Would Not Do That."

"She Wouldn't?" asks the first.

"No," says the second. "She Understands Why It Is My Favourite Part."

Gem smiles.

"Thank you!" she says to the Secret Keeper. "That was a lot of fun!"

"You Are Welcome," says the second.

Blood on her hands, Gem turns and leaves, grin as bright as the sun.

They watch her go.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Untitled Buck/Tommy angst

For @kinardevan 'cause they sent out a general request for angst and I like hurting people with my words...er...I mean, writing angst is fun!

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Werewolf!AU

CW: could be read as MCD, though the ending is ambiguous and we all know the 118 pulls off miracles all the time. Soooo, interpret as you choose.

t wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

The thought echoed uselessly in his head, circling and circling. Like if he just thought it hard enough, God or the universe or something would hear him, and agree. And this would not be happening. Not like this. Not like this.

He checked his phone for the hundredth, the thousandth, the millionth time, still cursing to himself when a signal had not magically appeared. Closing his eyes, he hit the call button on his radio, opening the channel.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Firefighter Kinard, 217. I am trapped on the south side of the Stewart Street building collapse, at least at the sub-basement level. Firefighter Buckley, 118, is with me with severe injuries. Need immediate medevac. Does anyone copy? Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Firefighter Kinard, 217, does anyone copy?”

Static.

Nothing but static.

“They're not–gonna hear you. Gotta be…forty…feet of debris…signal won't get through.”

Carefully, so, so carefully, Tommy shuffled closer to the figure sprawled inelegantly in a half-sitting position against a slab of what used to be part of a subterranean parking garage ceiling. Evan's head came to rest on his shoulder, and he pressed his lips against his boyfriend's bloodied forehead. His skin was icy cold, pale as a ghost in the dim glow of their emergency lights.

As far as he could tell, Evan had escaped any spinal injuries or broken bones. But none of that mattered. Not when there was six inches of twisted, jagged steel protruding from his boyfriend’s abdomen.

He couldn’t even tell what it had been originally–a support beam, or part of the internal structure of the wall…it didn’t matter. Evan had landed on it or been impaled in the fall, despite Tommy’s best efforts, and even if help arrived soon...

He shut that thought off before it could come to its conclusion.

He’d stabilized the piece of steel as best he could, ripping his undershirt into shreds to pack the wound in a desperate effort to keep Evan from bleeding out before they were found. People were coming for them. Even if everyone else gave up on them as a lost cause, Tommy knew the 118 wouldn’t abandon Evan. Wouldn’t abandon him, either. They were coming, he just had to keep Evan alive until then. He just had to keep Evan alive.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“How you holding up?” he asked, ignoring Evan's–very, very correct–assessment of the likelihood his radio signal was going through. He pressed two fingers beneath Evan's chin, finding his pulse and counting the fast, thready beats silently.

“Been…better,” Evan mumbled. “Finally get to work…together on the ground…and it ends like…this.”

“Probably should’ve expected something to go wrong,” Tommy said, aiming for humor and missing by about three nautical miles. “But hey, now you and Chim can have matching rebar scars.”

“Matching…parking garage stories…w’th Hen too,” Evan replied, his head growing heavier against Tommy's shoulder, his eyes fluttering alarmingly.

“No,” Tommy said firmly, shifting his hand to cup his boyfriend's cheek. “No, none of that. You know the drill, babe. Stay awake.”

“Trying,” Evan whispered, pushing into Tommy's touch like he always did. “What…’bout you? How bad…are you hurt?”

Evan had already asked him that. A couple times, now. Swallowing down the panic that was trying to claw its way through the iron control he'd developed long before he was a soldier or a first responder, he answered anyway.

“I'm fine. Bumps and bruises. I’ll be fine, I'm just worried about you.”

“Liar,” Evan sighed, reaching up weakly to tangle their fingers together.

Tommy was not lying, was the thing. Not technically. He had felt something shatter inside when the floor he and Evan had been trying to clear collapsed beneath them, plunging them two or three sublevels into the basement parking amid a hale of debris. Several somethings, actually. He’d had no time to try and categorize his injuries, too busy frantically wrapping himself around Evan, trying to cushion his fall, trying to protect him, to take as much of the damage as he could.

Evan was strong. Evan was tough. But Evan was so painfully, perfectly human. He couldn’t take the damage Tommy could.

He’d broken and splintered and shattered on the way down, had slammed his head hard enough upon the final impact that even with his helmet, even with all the strength his nature afforded, he’d lost consciousness. He had no idea how long he was down, but it couldn’t have been very long–he’d had bones still knitting back together when he woke up, cuts and lacerations on his exposed skin that hadn’t quite closed.

He’d have taken worse–a hundred, a thousand, a million times worse–as long as Evan was all right.

He’d done his best. He’d done his fucking best.

“How’s the pain?” he asked, resisting the urge to check his phone for a non-existent signal again. Evan swallowed roughly, his fingers twitching in Tommy’s grasp. “Evan?”

“Kinda…fading,” Evan admitted after a long moment, his voice so quiet that even with his enhanced senses, Tommy could barely hear him.

Tommy’s stomach dropped, though he didn’t let any of his fear show on his face. He didn’t need to–he and Evan both knew what it meant when a wound this bad stopped hurting. “Okay. Okay, sweetheart, you just hang on. Hang on for me, okay?”

Evan tried to smile at him, a small dribble of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. It was all Tommy could do not to start howling, his other self clawing, lunging, demanding to be let out, to so something.

To do the only thing that might keep Evan here, keep Evan with him…keep Evan alive.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

His mother had always warned him to be honest with his partners. The instant he started thinking he could see a future with them, it was best to be honest. To reveal himself for what he was and let them decide if it was too much.

He’d known he wanted to share his other self with Evan only a few months in. Wanted to share everything with Evan, for as long as Evan would let him. He’d been startled by the intensity of his wanting, the strength of it. He’d had partners he considered telling his secret to, before. Had actually gone through with it, once.

Only once. The relationship hadn’t survived the reveal.

Maybe that was why he’d been holding back, even as Evan became more and more entrenched in his life, in his heart. He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted Evan. Never loved anyone the way he loved Evan. He didn’t think he could bear it if he revealed his other self, and those beautiful, beautiful blue eyes filled with fear. If the same words that had poured out of Maddox’s mouth left Evan’s lips.

And yet, he’d known he would have to do it. They were moving in together next month, as soon as Evan’s lease ended. Evan had given him everything, offered up every part of himself with no shame, no inhibition, no regrets. He wanted forever with this man. He wanted it so badly it was like a permanent ache in his heart. But how could he ask for forever when he hadn’t given Evan everything, every part of himself in return?

He’d resolved to tell Evan everything. He’d just been waiting for the right time, waiting for their schedules to line up for some time off so Evan would have time to process, waiting, waiting, waiting.

He’d waited too long.

He hit his radio call switch again, gently wrapping his arm around Evan’s shoulders. “Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Firefighter Kinard, 217, does anyone copy? I am in need of immediate medevac for an impalement injury on the south side of the Stewart Street building collapse. Does anyone fucking copy?”

Static.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“Gonna be…hours, babe,” Evan said, his voice breathy and hoarse now, another dribble of blood leaking from his lips. “Even if they’re…already digging.”

He was right.

The truth Tommy had been refusing to acknowledge smacked him full in the face, damn near stealing his breath, ice blooming up and down his spine. Even if, even if rescue operations were already in full swing, even if the 118 had any idea they were still alive, even if they’d pinpointed their location and were going full tilt trying to dig them out…it would be hours before help got here.

Evan didn’t have hours.

“Love you,” his boyfriend–his partner, his lover, his fucking everything--murmured, his grip on Tommy’s hand growing weaker. “Never…thought I’d…get this.”

“Shut up,” Tommy said, a growl slipping into his voice as his other self railed against the weakness in Evan’s voice. “Don’t you fucking dare start saying goodbye to me.”

Infuriatingly, Evan just tipped his head forward, resting in the crook of Tommy’s neck with a barely-there smile. “Tommy. I’ve got…like a foot of steel…through my guts and it doesn’t hurt. Just…keep holding…me.”

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Tommy was supposed to ease his boyfriend into it…into the idea that there were other people than humans in the world, that there was a whole world out there that Evan had never seen or interacted with. It was supposed to be slow and gentle, giving Evan plenty of time to process, to consider. And then…and then later…later, when they were sure they both wanted the same things, wanted the future that Tommy craved so badly…when Evan had had time to really think about it. To get to know Tommy’s other self, to become comfortable with it. To decide for himself if he wanted to step into this other world with Tommy. Become a part of it. Become like Tommy.

In his deepest, most private dreams and fantasies, he imagined them going away together somewhere–the mountains maybe, or the beach–where they could have privacy for a few days. He imagined candlelight and roses and music, every romantic cliche he could fathom. Imagined making love slow and sweet, worshiping Evan’s body before tenderly taking his wrist in hand. He’d change just a bit, let his other self out enough for his eyes to glow a rich gold and his teeth to lengthen to fangs. In his dreams, Evan’s breath always caught, his scent growing richer with lust and desire, loving every part of Tommy just the way Tommy loved every part of him. He’d stare into the eyes of the man he loved as he bit down, kiss the bloodied bite apologetically as Evan gasped and shuddered, hold him tightly as the change worked through his body, as Evan’s other self was born out of their love.

It was not supposed to happen like this.

“Evan…do you trust me?” he asked, a leaden sort of dread settling in his gut. This–this was unfair. It was so unfair. Evan was in no condition to make such a life-altering decision for himself. Christ, he didn’t even know what Tommy was. Had no idea that things like werewolves weren’t just stories and legends. And it was dangerous to try and change someone who was this severely injured. The bite was only ever given to people who were mentally prepared for the change, who were healthy and strong and ready.

But God help him, he couldn’t lose Evan. Not here. Not now. Not like this.

“...’course,” Evan sighed, and Tommy almost wanted to cry at the simple conviction in Evan’s voice.

Please, he prayed, not even sure who he was praying to. Please let it be enough.

Evan was strong. He was so strong, one of the strongest people Tommy had ever met, in every way possible. He had to be strong enough to survive what Tommy was about to do.

Because he would surely die if Tommy did nothing.

“I’m going to get you out of this, baby,” he said, carding his fingers through Evan’s hair, clumped with sweat, grime, and blood. He kissed his boyfriend’s forehead, his cheek, his bloodied lips. “You’re not dying here. I love you.”

Then he shifted, let his other self come to the surface enough for his teeth to lengthen, for his eyes to shine with unnatural light in a twisted mirror image of his treasured dreams.

It couldn’t be Evan’s wrist–too small a wound, too far from the heart. With the blood Evan had already lost, with shock setting in hard, the bite would have to take fast to have a chance. The throat. It had to be the throat.

“Trust me,” he said again, asking, pleading, begging as he tilted Evan’s head back, the weight of it already so loose and limp. Evan was slipping away from him.

“Huh…wha’?” Evan gasped, blood bubbling from his lips, frothy, scarlet bubbles, his breath rattling in his chest.

Tommy bit down.

Squeezed his eyes shut as the man he loved more than anything in the world screamed in pain, the sound of it weak and ragged, dying, Evan was dying and he bit down harder, pierced skin and muscle and felt more blood spill into his mouth.

Please let it be enough

He held Evan still when he convulsed in Tommy’s arms, desperately trying to keep him from dislodging any part of the steel bar through his abdomen. Not yet, not yet–Tommy would have to get it out of him when he started changing, but he couldn’t risk pulling it yet, Evan would bleed out in seconds.

He pulled his teeth from Evan’s neck with a ragged cry, pressed his forehead to Evan’s as his boyfriend shook and shuddered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he gasped. “It’s all right, it’ll be all right. I’ve got you, I love you, I’ve got you. Just hold on, baby, it’ll be fast.”

Evan’s mouth fell open, his breath coming in short, rattling pants. His fist closed weakly on Tommy’s shoulder, spasming as his whole body seized. Tommy searched Evan’s face frantically, looking for the first signs of the change taking place, waiting for the familiar gold light to start to eclipse the blue of his eyes, waiting for his breathing to become steadier, his pulse to become stronger. The full change would take hours, but the first effects should be enough, should start to heal Evan’s wounds. He just had to be ready to pull out the steel at just the right moment.

“I’m here, I’ve got you,” he promised over and over. “Don’t be scared, please don’t be scared…it’s the only way. I love you, I love you so much–I couldn’t let you die.” The words escaped him in a torrent, a flood, and all the while he scanned Evan’s face for the first signs of the change.

They didn’t come.

Two minutes.

Five minutes.

Ten.

Evan’s shudders grew weaker and slower, until he slumped against Tommy, his chest barely rising and falling, his pulse a weak, fluttering thing against Tommy’s fingers when he pressed them against Evan’s neck, slick with blood from the ragged bite. Before Tommy’s horrified eyes, the skin around the bite grew inflamed, streaks of scarlet spreading out from it, crawling up and down Evan’s neck to disappear under his turnouts.

“No…no, no, no, no, baby, don’t do this. Hold on, please hold on!”

It didn’t always work right away, Tommy told himself, clutching Evan to him, barely resisting the urge to shake him back to wakefulness. There was still time. Evan was so hurt, it was just taking longer. That had to be it. Had to be it. Sure, his mother had told him that sometimes the bite didn’t take, that a person just couldn’t handle it, that sometimes a bite could turn bad…but that couldn’t be happening. God, please that couldn’t be happening. Evan was strong enough. He had to be.

“Please, Evan. Please don’t do this. Come on, baby, come on! Stay with me–just a little longer, just hang on a little longer. Stay. Stay! Stay, damn it!”

He clawed at his radio again. “Mayday, mayday, FUCKING MAYDAY! Anyone! Anyone copy?!”

Static.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.