#the other 2 will get names someday too trust.

[sevicia]

Writer Guy's only "friend" who sucks majorly. Notes under da cut. Heart.

Firstly ☝️ he's heavily inspired by the experience of having someone follow you around even after you have told them very explicitly to stop doing so. Writer Guy will look him dead in the eye and say "I don't care about anything you have to say. Leave me alone, you annoy the shit outta me", and he'll just go "Bro you're always so funny LOL I'm probably the only one that gets ur sense of humor. Anyways, about my new podcast idea..."

This guy's deal is that he's obsessed with others' perception of him. He's an aspiring influencer and can't decide between being a youtuber, a streamer, or having a podcast. He's into crypto and defends NFTs like it's his job.

He met Writer Guy in college and has stuck to him like a leech ever since, even though they only had a few classes together. His reasoning was that Writer Guy seemed like the lone-wolf type and thus would attract attention with his ~mysterious~ charm, when in reality he was so boring that no one really paid him any mind. If you ask any of their ex-classmates, you'll find that no one really remembers either of them.

He spends a lot of time in r/shortguys and gets frustrated that he can't relate to the whole "women only ever pay attention to tall guys and we manlets are all martyrs" thing cause he's never even tried to get with a girl (he will lie about this). He's gay as hell but in almost complete denial. Genuinely believes stuff like "it's not gay with the socks on".

Unserious images that remind me of him:

I also gotta mention that his role in Mary and Writer Guy's story is very, very minimal, and that he never actually meets Mary. His story is a typical yaoi one where he falls in love with some guy and has one of those cliché "I'm not gay... why do I feel like this towards another man ?!?!!" moments. I chose to do it this way cuz I think it's funny as fuck to have him experience a romcom type thing while Writer Guy is basically Spongebob in the Silent Hill corridor.

I admit I'm not 100% sold on his hair, but it's brown for sure. Why? It just makes sense.

Some design notes including the other two:

Writer Guy is generally apathetic and would be considered boring at a surface level by 99,9% of the population. He teaches philosophy (ethics, specifically) at the college Mary attends, though they weren't aware of each other before The Events. His lectures are notoriously boring and many of his students sleep thru class or just skip them completely, but he passes them all anyways.

He's a writer in his spare time and writes trashy extreme horror on his (anonymous) blog, which is how Mary becomes aware of him. Stuff happens, his superiors (who are at best ambivalent towards him) find out about his hobby, he gets fired and doesn't care enough to defend himself or to raise any concerns about the school's attitude towards its teachers' private lives.

I also forgot to include his "On" design in the above pic, so here, a comparison:

I'm very obviously still figuring out how to draw him, but the drawing on the right is what he looks like at work. Just plain dorky and someone you would not look twice at.

I would also talk about his relationship with Mary, but for that I'd need to talk about Mary first, which I can't do rn cuz this post is already long enough and it's nearing 3 AM and she makes me absolutely BONKERS insane to the point I barely even know where to start when I wanna talk about her.

She's the only OC I have ever made a playlist for. I wish she was someone else's character so I could look at her without having to do the work myself.

A little fun fact about her is she used to dye her hair black before The Events. All I got for you rn.

OK that's all from me. For neoww...... Muah!

[rootedinrevisions]

Just...Stay: Part 2

SUMMARY: Tyler has to prove himself and win back your trust after nearly losing you for good. As he tries to commit to building a life together, the past tensions resurface, challenging both of you to confront the insecurities and fears that have kept you apart.

PART 1 HERE

A/N: I tried to write this using some of the ideas that you guys had for where YOU would like to see the story go (ie: a little bit of Tyler groveling, her moving on, and Tyler having to try and win her back! Hope you like it! xx

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst. Fluff.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You stand on the porch, watching Tyler’s taillights disappear down the long, winding road. The ache in your chest tightens, and you whisper to yourself, He’s gone. This time, for real. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the porch railing as if it can steady the chaos churning inside you. You’ve waited so many times for him to turn around, to decide he wanted you as much as you wanted him. But he’d made his choice, and you can’t keep waiting for him to want you.

With a shaky breath, you went back inside, the echo of his last words still hanging heavy in the air. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone, already pressing the familiar contact without needing to see the name. When the line connected and your mother answered, you could barely get out a word. But she didn’t need you to; she recognized the silence, the breathless, broken sound of you holding back tears.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, with that knowing sadness in her voice. “You don’t have to say a thing. I know.”

The crack in her voice brought the tears you’d been fighting up to the surface. The dam broke, and everything you’d been holding in—the hope, the ache, the final goodbye—poured out, leaving you unable to respond as she filled the silence with soft, soothing words.

“I’m coming over,” she assured you. “Just sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, wiping away tears as you settled back against the counter, feeling like the empty space Tyler left behind was somehow everywhere now, pressing in around you. The quiet house felt so much bigger without him in it, the emptiness swallowing every corner that once held laughter, whispered promises, and the comfort of his steady presence—even if it was always temporary.

Later, you and your mom sit in the living room, the stillness almost too much to bear. She’s wrapped her arms around you, her gentle strength holding you together when you feel like you’re falling apart. You try to hold back the tears, but the weight of everything—of hoping he’d turn around, hoping he’d realize he was making a mistake, hoping he’d come back up those steps to say he was staying—finally breaks.

Your mom rubs small circles on your back, her voice soft and steady. “He made his choice, and someday, he’ll understand what he’s lost,” she murmurs. “You did everything you could, honey. You deserve someone who’s going to put you first.”

You nod, though it doesn’t stop the ache gnawing at you. For the first time, though, you start to let the truth settle in: that you deserve more than the waiting, the hoping. That you deserve someone who chooses you fully, every single day.

Later that night you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh light making your face look even more worn from the day, you brace yourself for another quiet night. You slip into your pajamas, ready to try and sleep through the ache in your chest, when your phone lights up on the countertop. Tyler’s name stares back at you, as if daring you to pick up.

Your heart thuds painfully, and for a split second, you’re tempted. He’s calling, just like he said he would. But you can’t answer this time. You can’t let him back in, not after everything. So you hit the red button, sending his call to silence.

Thirty seconds later, your phone lights up again—his name filling the screen once more. The resolve you’d tried so hard to build threatens to crumble, but you steady yourself, knowing you need to stay strong. You told him what would happen if he left. You’d made it clear, and this time, you have to stay firm with that.

With a deep breath, you hit “Ignore” again, feeling both the sting of regret and the strength of your own boundaries. It hurts, but you know it’s what you need to do.

You turn your phone face-down on the bed, trying to ignore the nagging pull to check it. But when you do, Tyler’s message is there, waiting.

Tyler: Can we talk? I just want to talk to you.

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of every unsaid word between you. He wants to talk, but he still isn’t saying what you need to hear—no apologies, no acknowledgment of what he’s putting you through, just the same vague promises. Another message appears as you sit, reading it with an ache building in your chest.

Tyler: Please. Talk to me darlin.

You want to answer; some part of you always will. But there’s no real shift in his words, no sign that he understands what you need. It’s just Tyler reaching out like he always does, and leaving you to carry the weight when he pulls away.

So, you let the messages sit. They stare back at you, blue checkmarks confirming that you’ve seen them, leaving him on read for once. It takes everything in you, but you put your phone on silent and push it to the side. This time, you’re standing firm.

* * * *

A few months had come and gone since you’d last heard Tyler’s voice, and while the ache lingered, day by day, you’d felt it dull. The first few weeks had been the hardest—filled with reminders of him in places you hadn’t even thought to look. But with time, you’d found a new rhythm. You packed up his things and stored them in the barn loft, out of sight and mostly out of mind. There’d been a few days when you’d thought he might call again, but each week that passed with no message made it easier to let him go.

Then, just a few nights ago, you’d bumped into Matt at the bar. The quiet, shy boy you remembered from high school was still there, but he’d grown more self-assured, his conversations easy and light. He’d listened intently, asked thoughtful questions, and laughed at your jokes, which was a nice change after months of heartache. When he’d asked if you’d join him for dinner, his eyes hopeful yet calm, you found yourself agreeing without hesitation.

Now, as you finish getting ready, you catch a glimmer of that anticipation you thought you’d lost. It’s a soft, hopeful excitement, different from the wild spark you’d once had for Tyler, but maybe that’s exactly what you need.

As you slip on your shoes and give yourself one last look in the mirror, a strange mixture of nerves and excitement tingles in your stomach. It’s been so long since you let yourself look forward to something like this—putting on a new dress, curling your hair, and swiping on lipstick just to feel a little spark. It feels nice to step into a night that’s full of possibility, even if it’s quieter than the whirlwind you once imagined with Tyler.

Matt isn’t the kind of guy who will leave you on edge, wondering what comes next. That thought is comforting as you smooth the fabric of your dress and check your reflection one last time. He’s steady, warm, and easy to talk to, and when he’d asked you out last week, you’d felt a genuine flicker of excitement—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself in ages.

Your phone chimes, breaking the silence of your room. You glance over, expecting it to be a text from Matt saying he’s on his way, but instead, you freeze. 

Tyler’s name flashes across the screen, and for a moment, everything else fades.

Tyler: Hey. I know it’s been a while, but can we talk? I’ve been thinking a lot. Just… if you have a minute.

You stare at the message, feeling a swirl of emotions you thought you’d buried. It’s been weeks since his last message, and each day that passed without one felt like another small step forward. You’ve been letting him go—pushing his things up into the barn loft, moving him out of your thoughts inch by inch. But tonight, of all nights, he’s suddenly there, reaching out again.

The phone chimes again, and another message appears.

Tyler: I’m sorry. I miss you. Just thought you should know.

Your heart clenches, but this time, you feel a new kind of strength holding you back. You let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that you deserve someone who doesn’t make you wait and wonder, who doesn’t leave just to come back again. Tyler’s voice and his words, tempting as they are, can’t keep pulling you under. Not anymore.

With that, you tuck your phone into your bag, letting his message go unanswered as you grab your keys. Tonight, you’re stepping out into something new, something steady and full of hope—maybe even something that finally lets you move on.

At dinner, you and Matt settle into a cozy booth near the window, the glow of candlelight casting a soft warmth across the table. You offer a smile, and he returns it, looking just as eager and nervous as you feel. The waiter takes your orders, and for a moment, you both fumble with your menus, using them as a buffer against the quiet that settles between you.

“So,” Matt says, clearing his throat, “how’s work been treating you?”

You launch into a polite summary, and he nods along, sharing his own stories from the hardware store, a few of which earn a chuckle. But as you finish, another silence slips in, and you feel that small, familiar tension build in your chest. You drum your fingers lightly on the table, scanning your mind for something—anything—to say. Just as the silence is about to become too much, Matt asks if you’re excited for the weekend, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

You tell yourself it’s probably just nerves, that this is normal. After all, it’s been a couple of years since you’ve been on a real date, and first dates are always a little awkward. But as you lift your glass to take a sip, you can’t help but think back to the times you’d come to this same restaurant with Tyler. How the conversation would flow so easily, sometimes even late into the night. You’d swap stories, share laughs, and talk about everything and nothing all at once. There was never a lull, never a forced smile or the need to fill the quiet.

You catch yourself before the memory sinks any deeper and shake your head, forcing a smile as Matt picks up on a new thread of conversation.

Stepping outside the restaurant after dinner with Matt, you hold the door open just long enough to make sure he’s following when you feel yourself bump into someone headed in. You stumble back, and strong hands instinctively reach out to steady you. You begin to apologize, breathless from the sudden collision, only to look up and freeze. 

Those familiar, green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything around you blurs. Tyler stands before you, in a red button-up, worn jeans, and that off-white Stetson you know all too well. He murmurs your name, his voice thick with something unreadable as he holds you in place for a heartbeat longer than necessary. 

But before you can react, Matt is by your side, his hand pressing warmly against your lower back, gently pulling you away. 

Tyler releases you, his gaze lingering as Matt asks if you’re okay. You nod, feeling a bit dazed, and allow Matt to guide you toward the street.

Tyler calls your name again, his voice softer, a thread of desperation woven through it. But you glance back only briefly before following Matt down the sidewalk, his arm curling around your shoulders protectively as he continues talking, oblivious to the moment that just passed. 

You try to steady yourself, but the weight of Tyler’s gaze is still on you, even as you walk away.

Watching you leave with someone else beside you, Tyler’s heart twists in a way he didn’t see coming. The sight of Matt’s hand resting comfortably on your shoulder, of you turning away from him so resolutely, strikes deeper than any storm he’s ever chased. It’s in this moment that something cracks, and he realizes with painful clarity just how much he’s let slip through his fingers. The thought of anyone else sharing the moments you once shared together is a weight he can’t shake. As he watches you disappear into the night, Tyler makes a silent vow to win you back, whatever it takes.

Matt drives you home, the quiet hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between you as you watch the streets blur past. He’s considerate, not pushing for conversation, as though sensing the hints of distraction lingering in your gaze. When he pulls up to your house, he steps out first, hurrying around to open your door. You offer a grateful smile, following him to your porch as you fish for your keys.

Standing under the dim porch light, you both pause, caught in that familiar, tentative moment that usually ends with a goodnight kiss. Matt smiles, leaning in with a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s hoping for more than the simple goodbye you’re about to offer. And though part of you wants to bridge that gap—maybe even craves the closure it could bring—Tyler’s face flashes in your mind, his eyes catching yours across that restaurant entrance, and you can’t shake the thought.

You lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Matt’s cheek before stepping back, your hand lightly on his arm. He seems to understand, though a hint of disappointment flickers in his eyes. “Goodnight, Matt,” you say softly, your hand dropping back to your side.

“Goodnight,” he replies, a warm smile slipping back into place. He pulls you in for a quick hug, his embrace steady and reassuring, but he doesn’t push for more. 

Watching him walk back to his car, you feel a pang of guilt. Matt’s a good man, and he deserves someone whose heart isn’t scattered across memories and what-ifs.

You let out a slow breath as his car pulls away, whispering into the stillness around you. You know you’re not quite there yet.

Minutes later you are in the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water when you hear it. When you hear him. The rumble of his truck reaches you before the sight of it does, that familiar low, steady hum breaking the quiet night. You freeze in place, feeling the sound more than hearing it, the way it seems to settle into your bones and send your heart racing. You step over to the kitchen window, barely breathing as you watch him pull up, headlights cutting through the darkness until he shuts the engine off.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, just sits there, his silhouette still and contemplative. You’d know the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders, anywhere. 

Slowly, he climbs out and makes his way up the path, boots crunching on the gravel. With each step he takes your mind races, grasping for words, trying to brace for the conversation you know he’s here to have.

When he reaches the front porch, he pauses, hands on his hips as he lets out a long breath. His eyes flick to the window, and you step back instinctively, as though he might see you. 

You feel a sharp pang in your chest, the past month of silence cracking open like fresh heartbreak. Then he’s knocking, the sound a low, insistent rhythm that echoes through the house, reaching you where you stand, rooted in place.

You take a deep, steadying breath, one hand reaching to your chest as if to calm the beat of your heart. You can’t avoid him now. Whatever he has to say, you need to hear it. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it as you remind yourself to stand strong, to keep your heart guarded.

With one last breath, you open the door, meeting Tyler’s gaze—the same gaze that’s held you and let you go too many times to count. Tyler’s eyes find yours, raw and pleading, and his face softens in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. He takes a shaky breath, his words tumbling out in a rush like he’s been holding them back for too long. 

“I know I messed up. I know I’ve given you every reason to walk away,” he begins, his voice low and thick with emotion. “But I can’t lose you. I can’t…not like this.”

His hands run through his hair, and for a second, he looks at the ground, gathering himself. When he looks back up, his eyes glisten, and he steps closer, his words growing more insistent. 

“These last few months, you not talking to me… I can’t even explain how much that hurt. How much I’ve missed you—missed everything we had. I kept thinking, maybe if I left you alone, you’d be better off. But I was wrong, and now I can’t stand not being near you.”

He takes another breath, his voice catching slightly as he adds, “I want to come home. I want to be with you. I want to come back and stay this time…if you’ll have me.”

You feel your heart stutter, your mind racing to process what he’s just said. You’ve wanted to hear those words so many times before, but now…now that he’s here, your defenses come rushing up. 

You try to keep your voice steady, shaking your head as you take a step back. “Tyler…you don’t just get to come back whenever you feel like it. You left. You made that choice, and I—” But you stop, seeing the way he looks at you, eyes shining with the tears he’s trying to keep back.

He’s holding his breath, his chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to hold himself together. The vulnerability in his face hits you like a wave, breaking down the walls you’ve been trying so hard to build.

“Please,” he whispers, voice barely above a breath. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I…I just need you to know that you’re it for me. You’re home. Not just this house or the land…you, darlin’. Anywhere you are, that’s where I want to be. I don’t want to run anymore.”

You feel a knot in your chest tighten, torn between the longing in his words and the pain of what’s happened.

“Tyler,” you begin, voice unsteady, “I can’t do this again. I can’t open myself up just to watch you walk away.”

His hand reaches out, hesitating before he rests it on your arm, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “I’m not going anywhere this time,” he says softly, his voice trembling. “Not unless you tell me to.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s here, truly here, every bit of himself laid bare for you. And for the first time, you see a man who’s willing to fight—fight to be with you, fight for a future together, fight to make up for every broken promise.

You cross your arms over your chest, the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air between you. For a second, it almost feels like you can’t breathe. His words are exactly what you’ve wanted to hear, but there’s still a part of you that’s scared—scared to believe him, scared to fall for this all over again. You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from the emotions that have flooded your chest.

“How do I know?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper but carrying the weight of every question you’ve been holding onto. “How do I know this time is going to be different? How do I know you’re not just saying what I want to hear, again?”

He pauses, his face tightening for a brief moment, before his eyes soften, his sincerity cutting through the uncertainty. “All I can do is prove it to you,” he says quietly. His words are steady, but there’s an ache beneath them, something that makes your heart skip. “I can’t change the past, but I can damn sure try to make up for it.”

He glances toward his truck, his hand dropping to the side before he looks back at you. “I brought an extra bag with me this time,” he says, his voice steady with a quiet determination. “I was hoping you’d let me leave it here. Maybe when I come back in a couple weeks I could come back with the rest of my stuff…and that you’ll let me stay.” He looks at you, his eyes open and honest, no pretense, no bravado—just the raw truth of a man who wants nothing more than to rebuild what he lost.

You feel the sharp sting of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Tyler Owens, the man who once seemed so lost, so unsure of anything but the moment, is telling you he’s ready to plan. You feel the ground beneath you shift as he continues.

“I’ve talked to Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani about it,” he says, almost as if it’s something he’s already put in motion. “I’ve been thinking about moving up here, about making it work. I know it’s not just about me anymore. I know what I did, and I know what it’s going to take for you to trust me again. I want to be here, with you. And I’ve already been figuring out how I can make it work with storm chasing. With the team.”

The weight of his words hits you like a freight train. Tyler, who’d never seemed the type to plan, to make a life out of more than just surviving, is telling you that he’s thought ahead. He’s thought about you—about living with you. The logistics of his work, where he’d fit in with the team, how he could make it all work—things he’d never even considered before.

He never once brought up the idea of moving in, of building a future with you, before. Now, he’s here, telling you that he’s ready. And as much as your heart aches with uncertainty, something inside of you can’t help but feel the tiniest thread of hope tugging at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find the right words, trying to keep your guard up, even as your heart beats louder with each passing second.

“How do I know this is real?” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly.

Tyler’s eyes are locked on yours, his expression soft and full of sincerity, the words that leave his lips quiet but sure. “You’ll know by what I do. Not by what I say.”

As you stand there, the flickering hope mingling with every guarded part of you, you can’t hold back anymore. You have to ask him, to hear him explain it in a way that might finally make sense.

“Why, Tyler?” you say, your voice laced with hurt and frustration. “Why do you do this? The hot and cold? Coming back and then leaving just when I start to trust that you’ll stay? Why am I never enough for you to choose me?”

Your words hang in the air, heavy, but Tyler doesn’t flinch. He looks at you, and for a moment, you see something raw and vulnerable cross his face—an expression you don’t think you’ve seen before. He takes a shaky breath, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to find the words.

“It’s not that you’re not enough,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “You’ve always been enough—more than enough. It’s me who hasn’t been enough. I’ve been scared… scared of needing someone the way I need you, of letting myself feel things that deep. I kept convincing myself that I’d be fine on my own, that I didn’t need anyone, but that was never true.”

He pauses, glancing away before he meets your gaze again, his eyes intense and filled with regret.

“Seeing you moving on, watching you with him tonight…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “It made me feel something I never want to feel again. The thought of you with anyone else—it made me sick. It took almost losing you for me to see that I can’t keep doing this. That if I kept running, I was going to lose you, really lose you. And I’d have no one to blame but myself.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers hesitant at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. When you don’t, he takes your hand fully, his grip firm yet gentle.

“I know it doesn’t excuse anything,” he admits, voice heavy with sincerity. “I know I messed up. But being without you, thinking I’d lost you for good… it’s been hell. And if there’s any part of you that can still trust me, even a little, I want to show you that I’m ready to be here for real. To stay. I can’t keep running from the one thing that matters most to me.”

Tyler’s gaze doesn’t waver from yours as he takes a slow step closer, his hands resting at his sides, waiting. He opens his mouth, then closes it, the tension in the air so thick you could almost touch it. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, but you can hear the vulnerability underneath.

"Please, just… give me a chance," he says, his words hanging in the air.

You swallow hard, your heart caught in a war between hope and doubt. You’ve been hurt before, but everything in you is screaming to believe him. You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened, everything that’s led to this moment. And then you open your eyes again, meeting his gaze.

"Tyler," you begin, your voice softer now, but still firm. "This is your last chance. If you mess this up, there’s no coming back from it. I can’t keep doing this. I won’t."

He nods immediately, his face lighting up with the smallest hint of relief. "I swear, I won’t. I won’t mess it up." His voice is more confident now, as if something in him has shifted—something that wasn’t there before.

You feel a knot in your chest loosen, though doubt still clings at the edges. But as you stand there, looking at him—really looking at him, all of the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty—starts to fade away. It’s like for the first time in so long, you feel like you can let your guard down, just a little. You give a small nod, the corners of your lips lifting despite the tears threatening to fall.

"I’m trusting you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make me regret it."

Tyler doesn’t say a word. Instead, he steps in closer, his hands gently cupping your face, as if he’s scared you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on to you. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a slow, tender motion. The air between you both feels charged, full of something real, something raw, something that hasn’t been there in so long.

And then, without another word, he leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft but intense. His mouth moves against yours with such tenderness, like he’s trying to pour everything into it—his apology, his promises, his love—everything he’s been holding back. You melt into the kiss, feeling his warmth, his sincerity, his desire for you.

The kiss deepens slowly, as if testing the waters, but it’s gentle, filled with the kind of care and emotion that you’ve been missing for so long. And in that moment, all of the fear and doubt you’ve been carrying seems to dissolve, replaced by something that feels like home.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both stand there for a few moments, foreheads resting against each other, breathing the same air. Tyler smiles against your skin, and you can feel the weight of everything shifting.

"I won’t mess this up," he whispers again, his voice thick with emotion. And for the first time in a long while, you believe him.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked “well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

PART 18

[nanamiscocksleeve]

The Office Pet Part 3

warnings: MDNI, sex, rough fucking, fingering, mild pet play, cum dump, mild foursome, creampies, cumplay, exhibitionism, oral (fem receiving), toys, overstimulation, dominance, nipple and clit play.

man, I was horny af when I wrote this. Pure filth, no plot, just some good kinky fuckery. Part 1 - Part 2

“They’re considering hiring someone with the promise that he could be a partner someday.” Kento lovingly washes your hair in the tub, making sure he gets every inch of your scalp clean. You let him pamper you, eyes closed and humming in happiness. He reaches for the removable showerhead and gently cascades water over your hair, ensuring the suds don’t get into your eyes. 

“We’ll be entertaining him here to get a feel for him.” You look curiously at Kento, and his mouth curls into a smile. “Ah, I see you’re remembering the last time we hosted a party here. I recall you enjoying yourself quite a bit.” 

“I did.” You giggle at the memory. 

“How do you feel about doing it again tonight?”

“I think it would be fun.”

“Excellent.” He helps you stand and starts toweling your hair dry. 

“All the same folks as last time?” You ask, loving his gentle touch. 

“Yup. You remember how it was when we vetted Higuruma.”

You nod your head, then raise your arms as he starts drying off your body. “So it’s him, Gojo, and…?”

“Kusakabe.” Kento gives you a name. “It’ll be very similar to last time.” He scoops your dried body out of the tub and places you on the bed, before grabbing a bottle of lotion. You lay out on your stomach comfortably, then pout as he drips lotion on your back.

“That’s cold…” You protest, only to be met with an indulgent chuckle. 

“Sorry, my sweet.” He runs his warm hands over your back, and the cold cream heats up, going into your smooth skin. You hum and settle down. His hands move to your ass, gently massaging the flesh as he moisturizes you. 

“Think you’ll be all right entertaining one more person?”

“I think so. Same rules as last time, right?”

“Yes. They can look. Touch limitedly with permission. But fucking you is solely my right.” He cups your mound with his hand and your arch up so that his palm can curve and capture it. He squeezes, not arousingly, but it feels good anyway.

“I think we’ll have fun.”

Kento huffs, and gives a playful smack to your ass. “I can always count on you. But, then again, you like being on display so I suppose you’re more into the idea than you’re letting on.”

A mischievous laugh leaves your lips and you wriggle your ass, causing him to bark with laughter and give you another smack. “Come here you.” He sits down and cradles you on his lap, hugging you tightly. “I love you, you know?” He kisses your forehead. 

“I love you too.” You graze your nose against his face, inhaling his scent. The unconventional nature of your relationship still had trust and affection at the end of the day. He holds you possessively, jealously, sometimes. But you were both comfortable with your dynamic. 

“What’s your safe word?” he breathes into your hair. 

“Heel.”

“Yes. And remember just because there are rules doesn’t mean you can’t ask for it to stop. I’ll be there the whole time. If something makes you uncomfortable, just look at me. I’ll know.” 

Kento was a source of security for you. He would never let anyone demean or put you down. You knew where you stood with him. He kisses you, his mouth exploring yours for a moment before pulling away. 

“Let’s go put on a show.”

—

The men are dressed in their finest, most expensive-looking suits, sitting on the plush, immoderate furniture in your living room, sipping Kento’s excellent collection of liquor. The new guy, Kusakabe, has a harsh, bored-looking expression on his face as he swirls his scotch in a glass. 

“What’s so special about this party that you guys said it’s practically an interview?” Disinterest coats his tone as he takes a swig from his glass. 

Gojo and Higuruma exchange glances, smirking knowingly at each other. 

“Let’s just say that these parties…show us how much we can trust each other. After all, if you can’t obey the rules relating to our office pets, then why would we trust you with anything else?”

“Office pets?” Kusakabe wrinkles his nose. “Don’t tell me I have to spend all evening entertaining a cat or something.”

Higuruma laughs and takes a swallow of his whiskey. “Well, there’s a pussy involved.”

Kusakabe looks unsure whether to take him seriously and decides against asking anything. Noise at the top of the steps announces Nanami’s arrival and the men sit up straighter, watching him descend.

He’s carrying you in his arms, your perfect naked body on display, snug against his chest. Kento has added a simple black choker around your neck, with a cute bow attached to it.  “I’m glad everyone could make it.” 

Kusakabe’s eyes widen as he sees you, almost choking on his drink. Kento’s mouth is a sardonic curve, a taunt to the new potential hire who suddenly seemed to have lost the cocky demeanor he had when he was first interviewed. 

Kento sits down on a grand-looking armchair, letting you lay down on his lap, and delicately fondles one of your nipples, almost like an afterthought, similar to how one plays with their hair while reminiscing something. It barely does anything to you, and you sit patiently, letting him do as he pleases. 

“As we all know things are a little…unconventional in our office. But it’s good. It helps with productivity. And it helps us know we have each other’s backs no matter what. And how do we assess these qualities?”

He pauses and pats your head proudly with his free hand. “Thanks to the office pets of course. They’re a status of how far we’ve come in our careers. And they represent qualities that are meaningful to us. They give us companionship, and love, and are excellent stress relievers.”

Gojo and Higuruma chuckle, nodding, while Kusakabe continues to look shell-shocked. Nanami continues with his speech. “But of course, each office pet is sacred to the person they belong to. We admire and respect each other’s pets, but we never cross boundaries. So anyone who thinks just because our adorable pets look available,” he squeezes your nipple hard enough for a cute whimper to leave your throat, “isn’t someone we would want to have in our office.”

Kusakabe stares, wide-eyed, hanging onto Nanami’s every word. The prospect that he could have a pet if he was made partner one day was sinking into him. Nanami’s voice cuts through the room. 

“Look at my pet.” He gestures to you leisurely sprawled out on his lap, already turned on by the thought of events to come. “She’s sweet, obedient, and one of the best things to ever happen to me. So to assess if someone is worthy of being part of our exclusive circle, there are 3 rules they will need to abide by tonight.” He holds up his hand and stretches his index finger.

“One. You can look. Two,” He holds up another finger. “You can’t touch unless given permission by me and my pet. And 3. No one can fuck her except me. Do you understand Kusakabe?”

Gojo slaps Kusakabe playfully on the shoulder. “He’s following rule one all right.” Nanami and Higuruma laugh as Kusakabe flushes. You can’t help but join in the laughter, then pull at Nanami’s collar. 

“Is he a virgin?” you ask and the room erupts with laughter, Kusakabe chugging from his glass to avoid looking embarrassed.

“No, my pet, he’s not,” Nanami chuckles, stroking your hair. “I just doubt he’s seen anything as sweetly delectable as yourself before. He's probably never seen a woman so willingly displayed, so ready to be used and admired. ”

It takes Kusakabe a second to regain control of himself. With a cough, he says, “I think I would fit in with your circle very well. I promise to abide by the rules.”

“Perfect. Well then. No sense in delaying the fun.” He picks you up and places you on the lush carpet, patting your ass to encourage you to move forward. “Go ahead, my dear. Show them what a good time really looks like.”

You gracefully and enticingly crawl to the center of the carpet, smiling, before laying back and spreading your legs apart, delicately fingering your already swollen clit, in full view to the group. 

“That's it, my dear... Show these men how much you enjoy being on display…” Kento’s gaze darkens with lust as he watches you play with yourself, your moans filling the room and spurring on the already aroused crowd.

“See that, gentlemen?” He says, gesturing towards you. “This is what happens when you train a woman properly.” A wicked gleam appears in his eyes as he turns back to them. “Now, isn't it time you showed your appreciation of her?”

All the men had a boner; you could see the outlines through their pants, straining against the fabric. At Nanami’s words, Gojo and Higuruma free their cocks, stroking themselves in time with your fingers on your clit. Kusakabe was either too shy or too shocked by the scene, because he didn’t make any move to unzip himself, but kept his eyes fixated on your open pussy with his teeth gritted, fascinated. 

You feel powerful, knowing how much control you hold over these men, knowing they can’t do anything to you. It stirs a gripping arousal in your body, and you moan, knowing you need more. Looking sweetly over your shoulder, you ask, “Kento, can you bring out the toys?”

Kento smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course, my dear.”  His voice is filled with anticipation. “Let's see how many orgasms we can wring out of our precious pet tonight.” He disappears into another room briefly, returning moments later with a small box full of toys. He sets it down beside you, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Here you go, my dear,” He coos, handing you a small vibrator. “Have some fun with this while we decide what to do with you next.”

You accept the toy from him, gathering some of the moisture leaking from your hole, and begin to tease yourself with it, whimpering at the pleasure. “Kento…can I choose someone to hold it for me? It’s easier to have fun that way.” You look at him with a pout. 

Kento nods, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Of course, my dear. Choose whoever you wish.” His eyes roam over the crowd, wondering who you’ll pick, but he already has a good idea. You temptingly crawl over to Kusakabe who looks at you like he’s seen the gates to heaven. With a smirk, you offer him the vibrator. He glances over at Nanami, who nods.

“She’s giving you permission, so yes. Take it.” 

“So generous of her,” Gojo praises you. “Just don’t be disappointed if you find yourself adjusting him constantly. Look at his hands. He’s trembling.” 

It was true, Kusakabe’s hands were trembling slightly as he took the toy from you before sitting down on the carpet. You lean up on your knees, and with shaky hands, he positions the vibrator against your wet slit, making you moan quietly. The crowd watches silently their eyes glued to the scene as Kusakabe, gaining confidence, begins to tease your clit by rocking the vibrator in circles against it. 

“Mmm...yeah like that,” you hum as you start humping the vibrator, your tits swaying as you do so. Gojo and Higuruma look impressed with Kusakabe who’s watching you intently, his cock straining so much in his pants it looked like it might tear the fabric. You giggle and try to give him a reassuring look but it’s hard with the pleasure coursing through you. Kento’s heart pounds in his chest as he observes you lose yourself to pleasure. Your moans fill the room, echoing off the walls and stirring up a storm of arousal among the gathered men.

“Isn't she beautiful?” Kento asks rhetorically, his eyes never leaving your writhing form. “So obedient. So willing…” He gives Kusakabe a nod of approval to keep doing what he’s doing before moving closer to you, caressing your breasts, tweaking your nipples to heighten your senses. 

“Ooh... That feels nice…” you bite your lip enjoying the attention and continue to pleasure yourself on the vibrator. 

Kento wears a satisfied grin and continues to pinch your nipples. “Such a perfect little slut,” He murmurs appreciatively under his breath. “Enjoying all this attention?”

You giggle at his question and hump a little faster, nodding your head. “I’m having so much fun.”

Kento chuckles before signaling to Kusakabe to increase the speed of the vibrator, which he does hastily. “Let's see how many times we can make our little pet cum tonight,” he says in a dark, sinful whisper as you gasp at the new intensity between your folds. His hands never stop their exploration of your body pinching your nipples harder, twisting them slightly as you moan.

“That's it…” He says approvingly. “Let yourself go…”

You writhe and whimper, humping the vibrator desperately, feeling your climax nearing as your clit throbs from need. After a heart-stopping moment, it hits you, causing your body to convulse in ecstasy as you scream out your release. The sight of you writhing from the orgasm sends a jolt of arousal through the gathered men.

“There we go,” He purrs, running a hand through your hair. “Such a good girl…”

Kento motions for Kusakabe to take the vibrator away from you, and he follows the instruction obediently, backing away respectfully, almost like he’s embarrassed from the knowledge of knowing he helped you orgasm. Gojo and Higuruma clap as he withdraws back to the sofa and you giggle, laying back on the carpet, still dizzy from your climax. 

“That was an excellent start. Great job Kusakabe.” Kusakabe is staring at his hands, his face a brilliant shade of crimson. Kento addresses the other two men. “Now I’m requesting more of your assistance. I believe we wanted to see how many times we make her cum tonight. I want her cunt soaked and ready for me by the time I decide to fuck her. You have my permission to touch her. And yours?” he asks you and you nod enthusiastically. Kento helps to bend you over the glass coffee table and spreads your legs wide, revealing your glistening, wet pussy to the room. His words send a thrill of arousal through you. 

“Who wants a turn?” 

There’s rustling and shuffling from behind you and you hear the men slide off the sofa onto the carpet and pad over to you. Kento’s hands stroke your hair and back, whispering encouragement. You can’t see who’s coming but it’s such a turn-on knowing what was going to happen. 

“Hey pretty. Ready for this?” Your heart skips a beat as you hear Gojo’s voice. He caresses your cheek. You nod eagerly, and with a laugh, Gojo begins to squeeze your breasts while Higuruma slots himself between your legs and finds your clit, his wet tongue covering the throbbing bud. 

You giggle and sigh and moan as the men take turns alternating between your nipples and clit, using different toys from the toy box to further stimulate you. Kento sits back and enjoys the show, his cock throbbing in his pants at the sight of you writhing in ecstasy. They’ve done this before and he trusts them as they expertly begin building up your climax, making you cum with ease, your pussy spasming almost unbearably with each one. 

“Such a beautiful sight,” Kento murmurs appreciatively. “My little slut is enjoying herself.” He notices Kusakabe sitting a little away from everyone, his pants still zipped, looking like he’s unsure how to join in. 

Gojo waves him over. “I was gonna pick a toy for her. Why don’t you take over her tits?”

“You’d be more comfortable if you freed yourself Kusakabe,” Kento notes how he’s struggling to move against the tent in his pants. The brown-haired man tenses, like he’s doing this against his better judgment, then frees himself with a groan, his long cock finally out of his pants.

“There you go. Now isn’t it easier to move? Now please, take your place in pleasuring my pet.” Kento looks over to you, vulnerably exposed and sprawled on the coffee table sighing with delight. Gojo turns on a curved vibrating wand and begins to insert it into your wet cunt, making you gasp. Higuruma rubs circles on your clit with his tongue. You buck into his face, making him chuckle. The black-haired man pats you affectionately.

“All in good time little pet,” Higuruma purrs against your wetness before starting again.  Kusakabe finally joins in and pinches your nipples, tugging on them, drawing a lewd cry of need from you.

Kento pets your hair. “Just relax,” He coos softly. “Enjoy the attention.” He gives Gojo a look who gets his message immediately and pulls the vibrator out of you. You whimper in protest, missing the buzz before feeling Kento’s hand tease your wet slit. 

“Such a greedy little thing” He murmurs, dipping two fingers into your dripping cunt, making you cry out. “Look at how you’re sucking me in…But I wouldn't have you any other way.”

You moan weakly as Kento fingers your cunt, curling up into that gummy patch and bearing down, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your face contorts with pleasure. “So good,” you manage to choke out. 

“That's it…” He purrs. “Let it all out…”

Your body quivers and then shakes violently as a strong orgasm rips through your being, your legs trembling from the effort of holding yourself up. Kento continues to finger you through your orgasm, milking every last drop of your juices.

“Good girl, ” He murmurs, pulling his fingers free to offer them to your mouth. “Taste yourself.”

You obediently suck his fingers clean, gazing at him hazily, still dizzy from the orgasm. His hand strokes your cheek tenderly, his expression softening.” Such a good little slut. You please me so much.” He turns away from you. 

“Excellent work gentleman,” he addresses his colleagues. “I think she had the time of her life.”

“She makes it easy Nanami,’ Higuruma chuckles, wiping his mouth. “Just lets us use her.”

“Like the good girl she is.” Kento gently squeezes your shoulders and back, easing out the lingering tension from the string of orgasms you had experienced. “And she’s nice and wet for me now….”

His hands move to grip your hips firmly before giving your ass a slap, making you wriggle. You quickly stop as you feel him align himself behind you, his tip waiting at the entrance of your pussy before firmly pushing himself into your wetness. Your pussy is sensitive after all the orgasms but Kento’s thick veiny cock filling you almost makes you go cross-eyed. Your pussy molds to him, remembering every inch and moaning loud as he keeps going in, your pussy tight and snug around his hot velvety meat. With a grunt he begins to thrust, losing himself in the feeling of being buried inside you, inside the moist warmth of your welcoming pussy, using your body to fuel his pleasure. 

“That's it,” He growls out, spanking your ass again, seeing the skin redden. “Take my cock like the dirty little whore you are.” You’re practically giggling as Kento spanks and fucks you in front of everyone. enjoying this a little too much. Kento grins wickedly, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he hears you giggle. 

“Enjoying yourself, aren't you?” He taunts, his voice laced with amusement. He slaps your ass hard enough to leave a mark and then grabs your hair, pulling your head back, fucking you hard and fast, his thrusts becoming erratic as he nears his climax. “Showing off to everyone how much you enjoy my cock?”

“Yes…That's it... Fill me with cum,” you whimper as his thrusts become more animalistic, hips slamming into your plush backside, balls slapping against your pussy as he struggles to hold on. 

“That's it,” He groans out, driving himself deeper into your quivering depths. “Take my seed…”

With one final thrust, he buries himself completely within you before releasing a guttural roar as he fills you with hot spurts of cum. Kento pants heavily, his body shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. His cock throbs inside you, emptying itself completely before finally going limp.

His large hands run soothingly over your back, and he leans down to press a kiss to your ear. “You did so well my sweet. Took every last drop of me,” he whispers appreciatively, resting his cheek on your head for a brief moment before adjusting you into a deep arch in preparation to pull himself out. 

“Show them what’s mine,” he growls possessively before sliding out. You lean forward as much as you can and spread your pussy, widening your sore legs as much as possible so that the other men can see his cum dripping out of you, feeling deliciously naughty as it falls from your abused hole onto the carpet.  

“That’s it,” Kento’s hiss of approval cuts through the room, relishing the sight of you being stuffed with his seed. 

He turns and sees Gojo and Hiuruma calmly drinking their liquor, stroking themselves at leisure, but Kusakabe is scrunched into a corner of the sofa, knuckles turning white as he clutched his glass, his cock still poking out of the gap of his zip, untouched. You look over your shoulder and can’t suppress the laugh that bubbles out of you as you see his face. 

��Dessert is served,” you call out. “Fresh creampie.”

Kento laughs heartily at that and everyone else joins in, Kusakabe breaking into a hesitant smile. 

“She has a point though,” Kento admits as the laughter dies down. “She loves creampies and I can’t give her another one till she’s been cleaned. So. Who wants a taste?”

Unsurprisingly, Gojo sets down his glass first and makes his way towards your hunched form. He’s known you both the longest and has no qualms over helping you clean up. Kusakabe’s eye twitches as Gojo kneels down and starts licking your pussy clean, slurping sounds fill the room. He does a thorough job, getting every last bit of cum from your folds. You hum and try not to simper, enjoying every moment of debauchery. Once done, Gojo returns to his spot on the couch and wipes his mouth with a napkin. 

“Thank you, Gojo. Now before I-” Kento pauses and it’s clear why. Your cunt is beginning to leak again despite the cleanup you were just given.

“How much did you unload Nanami?” Gojo asks in surprise, causing Higuruma to chuckle, almost inhaling his drink. “Her pussy got you in a death grip it looks like.”

Nanami grabs your ass cheeks and shakes them gently and you can feel the hot wet cream sliding out of your inner crevices. “That is quite a lot…looks like we’ll need another cleanup volunteer.”

“Ah, this brings back memories, doesn’t it Higuruma?” Gojo asks while ribbing him good-naturedly. 

“Indeed,” Higuruma agrees, looking a little nostalgic. “When I was vetted, I cleaned out your pet didn’t I Gojo? And when it was still leaking…I spent almost 10 minutes with my tongue in her cunt.”

They both look at Kusakabe who’s looking dubious. “Me?” he asks, blushing under their grins. 

“Yeah, you’re the new guy. Show us you’re not afraid to handle new experiences.” They goad him, jeering at his shyness. 

“I’ve just never-”

“Neither did I,” Higuruma interrupted him. “But we’re a team. It’s important to learn, and be open to tackling unfamiliar territory. Be a good sport now.”

“But I-”

“You might not want to keep your bosses waiting. Especially with a pet hanging in the balance. She was promised another round and she won’t get it until you clean her up. Everyone does their equal share of chores here.” Gojo’s sharp tone makes Kusakabe flinch and he moves to settle on the carpet. 

He sees the thick, milky fluid seeping from your cunt, dripping and coating your folds. He hesitates, then darts his tongue out to start the process. You hum in approval as he gently licks away the residue, and he’s surprised that it wasn’t at all what he expected.

“Why does she taste like…?” he asks the room.

“Watermelon candy?” Kento supplies and Kusakabe nods stupidly. “That’s just something unique to her pussy. She has a very pretty natural scent and flavor.”

Spurred by the flavor, Kusakabe returns with vigor and sticks his tongue into you, drawing out a long moan of satisfaction. Higuruma laughs at the sight. “Boy likes watermelon,” he drawls amusedly, and Gojo chortles. 

You on the other hand are lost in the sensation of Kusakabe’s cleaning efforts. “Yeah that's it...put your tongue all the way in... Mmm…” you sigh as he listens to your instructions. Kusakabe continues until he can’t feel any more of the salty, watermelon-flavored fluid coming back down. He backs away, his chin and the tip of his nose moist from his actions.

“I think that’s all of it,” he says, gently spreading apart your lips, and seeing the absence of cum.

“Good job Kusakabe,” Kento says gruffly and he scrambles back to his seat. “Now that she’s been properly cleaned,” he spreads your ass cheeks and without warning, slips inside your slick folds, making you gasp and rise off the carpet for a brief second. Gojo whistles appreciatively. 

Kento grips your hips tightly and pounds into your pussy relentlessly, Your moans turn into louder and louder screams as he pistons in and out of you. You grip the edges of the coffee table, trying to find balance but Kento is bullying himself into you, fucking into newer depths that have you seeing stars. Your voice is shrill as you make lewd requests, brain cells all dead from a pleasure overdrive. 

“Kento…Cum in me... Fuck it in so deep that drips for days…” You manage to string those words together with difficulty. Kento grunts in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he feels your walls tighten around him.

He grits out, “I'm gonna fill you up so much you won't be able to walk straight...You’ll go to work with my cum spilling into your panties, even days after I’m done with you…” With those words, he buries himself deep inside of you once again before releasing his load directly into your womb, spraying your walls with his hot seed. 

His hips stutter for a second and you begin to relax, thinking he’s going to pull out then squeal in surprise as he pulls you back closer, his chest covering your back, rutting into you sloppily. “Gotta fuck it in there deep…can’t waste it…no good if it drips back down right away…” His hand reaches down to massage your clit gently as he continues to pump his cum into you.

You cry out at the added stimulation, powerless to do anything but let him use you to his liking. The way he fucks you, hitting your gpot, makes you feel like you might fall apart from the intense pleasure of it all. 

“Your cunt is my kingdom,” he says in a low deep purr. Things are messy and sloppy, their combined fluids making it easy for him to fuck into her with speed. Kento groans in pleasure as he feels his cock twitch inside you, the sensation of your warm, wet walls milking him combined with the knowledge that he's filling you to the brim with his seed pushes him over the edge a third time. “I'm gonna fill you up again…” And with those words, Kento releases another torrent of cum into your already overflowing womb.

He almost collapses on top of you, the effort from the night taking a toll on him, his breaths ragged and uneven as he tries to regain some sort of thought after the intensity of it all. He stays still for a second and you feel him beginning to soften. Kento pulls out slowly, his thick cream oozing out of your well-fucked cunt. He watches as it dribbles down your thighs, satisfied by the sight.

“There we go. You've got more than enough of my cum to last you a few days…”

“Thank you Kento,” you say sweetly, and roll over, feeling your muscles pull and stretch painfully as you relax onto the carpet. Milky cream still flows from you onto the floor as you sigh. Kento kisses you softly, cleaning off his cum covered cock with some napkins.

He turns to look at his peers, then focuses on Kusakabe. “You didn’t touch yourself at all?”

Kusakabe shakes his head no and looks at the other two, both of them holding napkins over their cocks, having clearly been jerking themselves off until now. Kento huffs through his nose. “That either shows that you have great restraint or hesitate to grab opportunities when they are handed to you.”

He now addresses Gojo and Higuruma. 

“I know you’re probably eager to go home and relieve yourselves with your own pets,” Nanami says, tucking his dick away into his pants. “But can we have a quick assessment of Kusakabe before we call it a night?”

“I think he needs to loosen up a little,” Gojo says, crumpling the tissues in his hand.”

“And needs to take action a little faster.” Higuruma stands to pull up his boxers and pants. “You kept needing to be prompted when the rules stated that all you had to was ask for permission to touch. And even then you didn’t take action. You’ll have to be more independent than that to succeed here.”

Kento pulls you onto his lap, not caring that cum was seeping into his expensive tailored pants from your pussy. “If you’re willing to work on those things, perhaps we can set up another informal interview like this one. Maybe…with Higuruma’s pet next time?” He strokes your hair as he glances at the dark-haired man who nods.

“I believe we could.”

“Ok Kusakabe, you have another chance,” Gojo says pointedly to him. “Just allow yourself to relax around us. We want to help you.”

Kusakabe nods enthusiastically. “Of course! Please let me know when the next gathering will be.”

He looks thoughtful for a second then asks, “How long did it take before you were awarded office pets?”

“Oh Kusakabe.” Kento possessively cradles you in his arms. “Try to last long enough for your name to even be remembered by HR. Then we’ll see if you’ll ever be worthy of one.” 

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Bucky Barnes

Summary: After your mother's death, you're adjusting to life with your autistic younger brother. Thankfully Bucky, your most regular customer, can brighten your day.

Warnings: Caretaker stress, Insecurities, Mentions of death. Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Part 2

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

"I know it's a bit unusual," Bucky begins as he sips his coffee. "But we've got an office Halloween party and I could use your help."

"My help?" you say giving an incredulous look.

"My buddy, Steve," Bucky raises an eyebrow and you nod, confirming you remember the name. "He's trying to get this girl's number but he hasn't had a lot of luck."

"If she says 'no' I'm not helping him," you warn.

Bucky is quick to assure, "no, no, no, it's not like that! They're both very clearly into each other but also very awkward."

"Ah, okay. I trust you, but I hope you understand if I need to see it for myself?"

"Absolutely, 100%," he nods.

"Is it a costume party?"

"Yeah, but they're pretty loose on what counts as a costume," Bucky rubs the back of his head. "Every time I've gone Steve and I have just put on each other's badges and gone as each other."

Smiling at the pink in his cheeks you tell him, "so I could just show up in my work outfit and no one will really know the difference?"

"Sure," he confirms.

"Thanks, that'll save me some money. I'll start letting Robby know about it, but I reserve the right to cancel at the last second if he needs me to stay home."

Bucky smiles, "of course. And thank you, so much! Steve needs all the help he can get."

"What are friends for?" you smile, hiding the fact that you wish this could be a date.

The day of the party you're doing all of your last-minute checks. Robby said he was looking forward to having the apartment to himself for a change and trying it out. You had to admit, it was a good test for him to maybe, someday live without relying on you. Everyone agrees it's too soon since your mother's death, but you're quick to tell Robby how proud you are of him for being willing to try being on his own, even if it's just for less than a night. It's a break in routine, something he's not always good with.

Bucky was waiting for you as you clocked out. He'd agreed to meet you at the cafe so he could walk you to the office. The plan is for him to drive you home whenever you need him to. He smiles as he sees you and your heart flutters a bit. It's just not fair how handsome he is.

"So what's your costume?" you ask, trying to distract yourself.

He pulls out a Detroit Lions cap and puts it on, "I'm a Lions fan!"

"I thought they were extinct," you laugh.

"Hence why it's a costume!"

"I love it," you giggle. You're genuinely grateful for the laugh. Bucky's smile widens as you laugh. He hasn't seen you so happy in a while and the butterflies in his stomach pick up.

Once inside the office building a short woman, dressed as Buttercup of the Powerpuff Girls, sitting behind the security desk asks you to sign in and show your ID. You smile at the teddy bear she has on her desk, though you can't make out what its shirt says.

At the party Bucky is quick to find Steve who is wearing a leather jacket and aviator sunglasses. You're quickly introduced as "Sweetie" which is, apparently, the nickname Bucky and Steve have ascribed in their discussions of you. As much as you want to be upset that he's chosen such a nickname, you're also flattered that he's talked about you so much. You try not to think it's because he likes you, after all, look at how much he talks about Steve.

"So, Steve, are you here on your own?" You try not to sound too rehearsed. Bucky and you have been practicing some ideas for helping Steve build up the courage to ask a girl out, but the two of you need to be careful that Steve doesn't pick up on it.

Steve's cheeks turn pink, "yeah, I'm afraid so."

"You could change that," Bucky pokes. "Newbie's over by the desserts with Bubbles, and she keeps looking over at you."

Taking his hint you look over to the desserts and see two women dressed up as Bubbles and Blossom from the Powerpuff Girls. You guess they're friends with the woman at the security desk.

"She's quite pretty," you comment. "Why haven't you asked her out yet?"

Steve rubs the back of his neck, wearing an awkward smile, "I dunno."

"You know, I work in customer service, I could, maybe, talk to her?" Your offer is two-fold because it would give you a chance to verify that the lady in question is actually interested in Steve and he's not refusing to hear "no".

"You don't need to do that," Steve says. "I'm just...it's not as easy for me as it is Bucky."

"What do you mean?" you shake your head. Bucky's smile drops at your tone.

Steve gives you a confused look, "he asked you out, right? Gave you his number? That's why you're here?"

"He said he was trying to be a friend," you turn to Bucky who has the decency to look embarrassed.

"It's...I swear...it's not..." Bucky stumbles as he tries to find the words.

"I think I should go home," you say before you turn and leave.

Part 2

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @darsynia; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen;

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly;

@stellar-solar-flare

[seelestia]

A Blessed Imperfection [1/3]

(submitted by: @/hermosacolibri. all credits go to them, this work isn't mine!)

SYNOPSIS: Many consider your disability as a burden, but he finds a way to make it a blessing in disguise. What makes us flawed is what makes us unique, and that is what he considers the most beautiful thing about you—an imperfection he dearly adores. Nevertheless, he knows of your lingering sorrows and thus seeks a way to support you in the best way he could.

WARNING(S): symptoms of chronic/terminal illness, implications of mental instability, mentions of past trauma resulting to severe injury, possible triggers, panic attacks, sleep paralysis, hallucinations, etc…

CHARACTER(S):

Aether (as Traveler & Abyss Prince), Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Dainsleif

NOTE: I copy-pasted this from my Quotev so if the format turns bad, that’s why lmao. Part 2 will have the Zhongli and Ayato version I submitted with some other characters from the same nations. Part 3 will be Sumeru boys and Harbingers. I will submit them at a later date lol. Anyway, I would like to leave a shameless promo here for those interested in my writing. HERE is my Quotev. For those who wish to read about my collab story here on Tumblr, it is posted by my co-writer: @intothegenshinworld

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AETHER is like a star in the abyssal sky, constantly in sight yet far out of mortal reach. He carries the wishes of others, granting them in acts of what shall be seen as miracles or blessings. When time arrives for departure, he shoots across the cosmos with a trail of light that leaves witnesses mesmerized. Alas, he whom was born half of a whole, the name of this Traveler is forever bound to that of another—his dear sister, Lumine. Due to these same ties, he undergoes a quest across Teyvat to find her. The promise of a reunion always uttered by his lips, hopeful and eager yet never taking for granted the steps he took.

The lonely young man is at odds with the world. He could barely trust anyone after some god caused him to separate from his younger sibling. However, this humble Viator continues to treat others amiably in hopes to be treated the same way. From nation to nation, the blond adolescent sought answers from this peculiar world that felt so nostalgic yet still so foreign to him. There are trying moments of grief and frustration, but also blissful days of celebration.

Throughout this path, it was entirely unexpected for him to develop an intimate attachment.

Aether was not a stranger to bittersweet partings, as someone whom has always hopped from one world to another. For this same reason, he and Lumine try not to get too invested in any realm they visit. It was better for them as well as for everyone else that welcome them so affectionately. There must always be a particular distance to maintain, since there can be no guarantee of their stay or return. A deeper tragedy is the knowledge they can easily outlive the dwellers of any world. Witnessing the birth and death of many stars since their youth, the twins have grown rather desensitized to friendships that would not last as long as their lifespan.

That is why this separation hits them where it hurts enough to leave a scar.

Then, there was you.

As a mere mortal in a world governed by gods, you are content to live your life the best way you know. It is a lifestyle that can change at your will. One day, you can be exploring as an adventurer. The next, you are a seamstress earning your keep for the week you plan to stay with the spinsters. Every other month, you do a variety of odd jobs that you have learned throughout your lifetime. As a human, you are most hyperaware that everything can be ephemeral…

…and someday, even your soul shall be relinquished to the judgment of Celestia.

Until then, it is yours to do as you see fit.

For this reason, you felt torn by the Pyro Vision that had been bestowed upon you. While most of your peers seek the blessing of the divine gaze, you have subconsciously sought to avoid it. Many saw it as a gift but you were raised under the notion that most presents come with strings. Earning the “eye of god” meant that you are under Celestia’s watchful gaze, thus binding you to the Heavenly Principles. Their elemental blessings taunt mortals to dare reaching for the stars, and gain a place amongst the divine if they are deemed worthy of it.

Well, you personally believe that only thineself can determine one’s worth—no other, not even the gods.

Nevertheless, you move forward. Keep going on a quest without a destination, as you always do, until this fleeting life comes to its inevitable end.

Needless to say, there is one thing you genuinely did not see coming—

“I am so sorry, Miss!”

—and that was meeting your soulmate.

“It’s fine.” You replied.

Aether scrambles to collect your things while you do the same at a more relaxed pace. Your satchel had become so worn that it took a small bump to finally snap the strap. Now, all your possessions have been scattered across the ground. Fortunately, the blond stranger is a very kind and considerate young man.

Once you got everything, said stranger wasted no time apologizing profusely again.

“I should have been looking where I was walking! It was my fault.”

You tilt your head, “You could just make it up to me and we can call it even.”

His aureate eyes beamed as he nodded with an eager smile. At that moment, you wonder if he is the personification of the sun.

You smiled serenely, “I’m [Name].”

He pauses, a flicker of doubt passing through his gaze. Quick as it came, it disappeared as he smiled back—a tad softer.

“Just call me Aether.”

That day, he bought you a new satchel.

When you were younger, your parents always said that one moment is the same as a thousand—you only need one. It was a proverb that both confused and unnerved you. After they died together due to sickness, the words were haunting as you buried them before leaving your village. Every moment was cherished by you, each one unique in the best and worst of ways. However, as both you and Aether keep crossing each other’s paths after one meeting, a part of you finally thrums to life in understanding.

At one point, Aether even sought you out for a joint commission together.

“Don’t you have a travelling partner?” You asked.

He laughs sheepishly, “He’s a bit busy doing other things. Also…”

A light blush colored his cheeks, looking away as he scratched his nape lightly.

“…I wanted to spend some time with you.”

You found him cute so you agreed.

On that particular day, Aether learned something new about you. It was the little things he had been noting every time you met. The way you sometimes slur even though not a drop of alcohol can be traced from your scent, how you try so hard to keep your emotions under a certain level of control, how your eyes randomly droop even when you always look so adequately well-rested, and the pills he saw you sneak into your meals/drinks—you were ill. Perhaps, it was not the traditional ailment that left you weak and bedridden. The scariest symptom has been the occasional hallucinations that distract you, since the more vivid ones tend to set off your Vision. Anything within a meter radius is either set aflame, or rises up in temperature. It is why you always remind him to keep a certain distance whenever you tend to space out. He never prodded because you gave him the same respect of privacy by never prying into his life, even if he saw the incessant curiosity he adored about you. Still, he looks after you because he had to admit he truly grew fond of you.

Then, on your way home, you just abruptly collapsed as if your entire body went boneless.

“[Name]—!!!”

Aether caught you just in time before your head hit the ground. He checks your temperature for a fever, and then searches for some wounds you might have missed. You have a high pain tolerance, which can sometimes be a disadvantage whenever an injury goes unnoticed. There was a time a scratch almost got infected, or even when you nearly bled out because a poison prevented coagulation.

When he saw no signs, the outlander lifts you up in his arms and calls for the nearest doctor.

Thankfully, nothing was amiss and you just needed to rest while adjusting your diet.

Aether witnessed the true horror of your condition when you abruptly woke up half past midnight. He was already passed out on your bedside, sat on the ground and his head resting on his forearms. The chaise lounge would have been practical, but the blond felt the urge to be near you. At some point, he just dozed off.

On the other hand, you jolted awake with a choked gasp and widened eyes of terror. It was not due to any frightening nightmare. This is just how it always goes every time you wake up: frozen stiff, terrified, and barely breathing. Your pupils dilate as your iris moved wildly to make sense of your surroundings, pointedly ignoring the shadows manifesting into something monstrous. The candle on the nightstand was unfortunately almost fully spent, flickering to its last embers of light. With every dance, the shadows seem to get closer and slithering to get their clawed hands on you.

Alas, the candlelight spares you one last hope of salvation amidst this merciless night.

Sunshine golden hair glowed, emitting a silver halo as moonlight peeked from the half-open blinds. As much as you are able, you desperately crane your neck to see your companion. Tears blur your sight but the silhouette is unmistakable to you. His warm breath blew against your fingers, centimeters away from his lips as he breathed. Chilling goosebumps ran across your skin yet you welcomed it, hoping to regain mobility from this nightmarish paralysis. Your hand twitched, wishing to get ahold of this precious little sun—uncaring if it burns.

If you are to be like Icarus, then you would prefer an end embraced by warmth and light…

…instead of ice and darkness.

Perhaps, pyro suited you for this reason.

Your lips purse, crying in anguish to speak.

“A…Ae…A-Aether…”

To your relief, that seems to be enough to awaken the young man. However, respite is all to brief as your chest seizes up. The mere act of breathing gets difficult, and your heartbeat grew alarmingly slow as it echoed alongside the tinnitus in your ears.

Aether blinks awake, expecting the grace of morning light. Instead, he was met with your agonized gaze in a darkening room. In an instant, he snaps into full attention as he cups your face. You cannot hear him but you can guess that he must be firing questions out of concern.

“[Name], what’s wrong?! Are you in pain? What can I do? How can I help?” He exclaimed.

You gasped and hoarsely coughed.

“C-Can’t…breathe…I…”

The blond quickly thinks back to whenever Lumine experienced minor panic attacks. He assumes this is relatively similar, so he hopes his next actions will help rather than harm. Gently and carefully, he takes you into his arms. Back against the headboard, the new position situates you comfortably on his lap as one arm is secured around your waist. He takes both of your trembling hands with his free one, directing them to rest against his sternum.

“[Name],” he says softly yet firmly, “I need you to focus on me, okay? Focus for me. Hey—”

He catches your frantic gaze around the room and mindfully tilts your head back to meet his stare. They are brimming with steadfast reassurance, not at all deterred by the dark beasts. Your head rests against his shoulder, as you do as he told—closing your eyes to only relish his warmth, consume his scent, and listen to his voice.

“Breathe with me. Inhale, exhale…”

His chest rises and falls, to which you mimic the rhythm in return.

“Feel my pulse, and use it as your center.”

One hand keeps hold of his and the other seeks his heart, obeying the instructions.

The hand connected to the arm securing your back drift to your hair. At that moment, you realize that Aether’s hands are ungloved. Wandering fingers comb through your strands, calming you down with a soothing pet. Little by little, you regain movement in your limbs yet you rest limply—content.

“That’s it.” Aether whispered, “You’re doing great. Just keep repeating the exercise with me.”

“Aether…”

“I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You wept and sobbed, “Aether…”

“I know.” He murmurs as he cries with you, “You’ve been so strong, [Name]. Everything’s fine. You’re not alone anymore.”

You look up, “Promise?”

He looks back, “I promise.”

The hand on his chest reaches for his white scarf as you pull him down. He obliges as his grip on you tightened, holding you close while your free hands adjust to interlace with each other.

That was the first kiss of many.

Day or night, Aether stood by you. Every battle was fought together. Every quest was finished together, sometimes with his elusive partner named Dainsleif whom was later introduced to you. On the journey to search for his sister, he even renewed his vows.

“When we find her, you can come with us.”

You smile teasingly, “I don’t have world-hopping powers.”

He narrows his eyes at you, unyieldingly headstrong and determined.

“I’ll find a way to bring you with us anyway.”

He raises your hand to his lips with a sly grin.

“You’re not getting rid of me~!”

Aether cradled you in adoration as if you were an endless summer amidst the cold loneliness of his sister’s absence. You beheld him as if he was the sun bringing life to the paradise of your evanescent mortality. The pair of you were thriving happily, hand in hand, even after discovering the truth of this world—and dictating the journey’s end.

Then, your Vision broke mysteriously, and you were condemned to an enchanted sleep.

Aether cursed the divine and all of Teyvat for it. He figured this was his price for learning the truth, but taking you will be their gravest mistake. He severes his ties with Dainsleif, whom tried to console him into taking the righteous path. He viewed you as his friend as well, and he knew you would not want this for your lover.

Now, the Abyss Prince sits by your bed—waiting in forlorn hope. His ungloved knuckles caress your cheek lovingly. You were dressed in a nightgown with abyss colors, outlined by satin ribbons of silver and gold. A crown of inteyvat rested on your head, petals scattered across your spread locks draped over silk pillows. They have grown after the past centuries but he dutifully trims them to an acceptable length.

“Your Highness,” the Abyss Herald called, “it is time.”

Aether paused. His honey gaze hardens and his aura turns cold. He breathes deeply, eyes closed to lean down and leave a chaste kiss on your brow.

“I will return shortly, my love.”

He puts on his gloves, taking leave resolutely.

Even if the sun turns black, you will both find your way back to each other. Even as the moon is painted red, goodbye shall never be an option. Every star in the sky—false or otherwise—shall bear witness to a union that even the Heavenly Principles would dare not destroy. Should this world be torn asunder, the reckoning cannot spell departure for either you or Aether. This is the eclipse that will pave the way to a new world, as the Abyss Order entails.

For if fate can only be accepted, thy vows shath be sworn by royal decree—

“You are my predestined person, the one I will always choose.”

ALBEDO discovered that there is beauty in what the heart perceives which the eyes cannot see. As an artist, he can grasp onto the concept yet is unable to truly understand it since he heavily relies upon his sight. As an alchemist, whatever eludes him may come into being by his own hands and thus enable him to attain it. The pursuit of truth is a mere matter of time and place, preordained even if hidden. As the most prized creation of Rhinedottir, he was given the task of uncovering the truth of this world for himself as a purpose in life. Even if to exist is a sin in the eyes of Celestia, he must endure and keep moving forward to reach his answers.

Amidst such dedicated research, there was little time and effort to be spared for attachments. The Chief Alchemist of Ordo Favonius finds it much too difficult to maintain. Of course, exceptions has been made throughout the years. Aside from his master, he had bonded with Alice and Klee as family. He had also made friendships with his colleagues amongst the Knights of Favonius and his subordinates, whom he taught the art of alchemy. Alas, as an artificial human created by a sinner, he feels as if he can never belong anywhere. Regardless of these bonds, the Kreideprinz feels as if a part of his heart remains hollow. 

It came to him that this place was reserved for you, the apple of his eye.

Ever since Albedo met you, a new muse began to live within his heart. People consider it as seeing the world through rosy lenses; but for him, it felt as if everything appeared clearer than facts…

…and it was beautiful.

The sun shines brighter. The wind blows cooler. The grass looks greener. Therefore, life is that much greater and sweeter. He is still in pursuit of truth, yet he felt as if the magnum opus was already in his hands—molded in the shape of you.

His only lament was that you could not see it alongside him.

You were not born blind. It happened from an act of jealousy and unkindness. Before you came to the City of Freedom, you were a noblewoman dwelling in Fontaine and worked as an artist. Much like him, you love to paint and draw but Albedo always argues that you were better at it. He had seen your works long ago, and every single piece has never failed to inspire him. It was as if each painting can bequeath aspirations, letting it blossom from the hearts of the people that view it.

Then, news spread that your entire atelier was set on fire while you were still in it…

…and then, you lost your eyes.

The Hydro Vision in your hand may have been the sole reason you even survived. Many speculated that you can never make art the same way again.

You came to Mondstadt, wishing to break free from the suffocating experience. You struggled to regain your passion, overcome your sorrows.

Then, you met Albedo; and one thing led to another.

It started when you were taking a stroll in Springvale with your guide dog, Vincent. He is a very spirited Golden Retriever, protective and responsible. You both stumble upon a young girl named Klee, whom was busy fighting a bunch of hilichurls. You opted to stand aside and calm your snarling canine friend, petting his head. When your keen hearing detected irregular breathing and racing heartbeat, you realize that the little girl was getting overwhelmed. She must have fought other hoards before your arrival, and now you hear slimes joining the fray. Thus, you order Vincent to keep his distance and engaged.

Sword unsheathed from your walking cane, you attack the ones behind Klee. Her bombs startled you when they exploded too close, but your hydro shield easily deflected any friendly fire. Vapor damage is then redirected to the monsters, tempering the girl’s mines and lasers so your skin will not be singed by the building heat. Vincent was barking wildly like a supportive cheerleader, growling whenever you get nicked or whenever the other girl yelped.

Soon, the fight was over.

The pitter-patters of tiny feet went towards you, and stopped at an arm’s length. You look down, smiling kindly yet not sheathing your blade.

“Thank you for helping Klee!” She chirped.

You chuckle, “You’re welcome.”

Vincent came running towards you, shamelessly  nuzzling your legs. He then licks Klee’s hand in his own way of befriending her, causing the girl to giggle from the ticklish sensation. She hugs him around the neck, and you can only tilt your head in amusement.

“What’s your name, Miss?”

“You may call me [Name].”

The hairs at your nape rose. Although you can see nothing else but darkness, your eyes also snapped open with a dark glower. By instinct, you swung your sword to strike whomever snuck behind you.

A resounding clang echoed in your ears, as metal struck against metal. Another sword has parried yours skillfully yet makes no move to counter.

“Brother Albedo…!” Klee exclaims.

Upon realization that this is no stranger, you swiftly disengaged with a soft apology. The gesture was returned as the man apologized for startling you. To your amazement, Vincent did not seem to be wary of this newcomer. The dog merely barked gruffly, a bit admonishing, instead of growling defensively like he always did.

“You dropped this.” Albedo said.

You hesitantly presented your hand to receive whatever he was giving. A familiar cloth is placed on your palm. You belatedly realized that it was your blindfold. It is a durable silk fabric that kept your burn scars from showing. Your disfigured face has been exposed all this time for Klee to see.

It must have been a horrifying sight—

“Your eyes are very pretty, Miss [Name]!”

Your breath hitched at the unexpected compliment, turning away shyly. As you wore the blindfold again, Klee notices Albedo smiling in awe at you. She put up her hands to cover her mouth and muffle her mischievous giggles.

“I agree.” He murmured.

You nodded, “Many thanks.”

Albedo never told you, but for him, it was love at first sight the moment his eyes met yours. There have been solitary days spent in Dragonspine where he wondered tirelessly:

Would it have been a mutual feeling if you could have seen him back then too?

From then onwards, the mysterious alchemist had turned into a close friend. He acted as a personal pillar of support in unexpected ways. The little ball of sunshine that is Klee turned into a source of lighthearted joy for you as well. They tend to visit your home in the city together, offering gifts and knick-knacks. The habitual meetings resulted into some new friends who helped you settle down in Mondstadt, especially Eula. Her own aristocratic lineage helped you two bond about a lot of things, even when she vehemently rejects hers—which is frankly for understandable reasons. You both share the sentiment that genuine nobility upholds the belief of noblesse oblige above all.

Albedo, most of all, enabled you to regain the love you thought had been lost forever with your sight.

Although life still hit hard with how you struggle to create art, your appreciation for it was reborn and you are experiencing everything all over again as something new. Regardless of the burns and scars that made you insecure, the Kreideprinz made you feel nothing less than desirable and deserving of love. Though the blankness of your gaze saddens him, and sometimes even angers him due to the injustice you were dealt—he saw beauty in all that is you, and everything that blossoms from your hands.

Just for a moment, he wanted to show you what he sees the only way he knew: to create.

Vincent guided you into Albedo’s personal art studio in Mondstadt. The canine looked more excited than you. He nipped at the alchemist's white coat, tail wagging as he sat by your feet but paid attention to your lover. Charming eyes swept between you two as if awaiting praise and treats for a job well done.

For a moment, Albedo was reminded of Klee and it made him smile. He kneels down before the dog, patting his head. After a few minutes of petting, he relinquishes the promised treat.

Vincent then ran to his corner, satisfied. Usually, he is very protective and ends up hovering next to you; but with Albedo, he knows you are safe.

You giggled amusedly.

“Sometimes,” your lover sighed, “I think he only likes me to get treats and headpats. He also only comes to me by whining to play.”

You smirked teasingly, “Sounds familiar.”

Albedo paused before giving you a scolding look, yet the twitching smile betrayed him. He was then taken aback when you presented him a small gift bag and a bouquet of cecilia flowers.

“Happy Anniversary~!” You said.

He smiles, accepting your gifts to greet you back.

“Happy Anniversary, [Name].”

Per usual greeting, Albedo takes your hands in his to let them settle. Then, you let go to just feel as they glide across his skin. He closes his eyes to relish your caresses, nuzzling when you reach his face and touched his cheeks. From there, you felt his smile and it spurned yours.

However, as the alchemist opened his eyes, he had witnessed the spark of sadness in yours.

On your first anniversary together, Albedo crafted a special gift. A wooden easel held a blank canvas, or so it seems. If not for the colorful palette and wet brushes, nobody would spare it any glance or even thought. He guides you in front of him, encasing you in his arms and pressing his chest to your back. His lips whispered instructions almost seductively, soft and sensual as he lifted your hands to move them forward.

“Go ahead.” He implored your touch.

Fingertips make contact with what seems to be a canvas, but with bumps on it that definitely felt like braille. Your brows furrowed in confusion, unable to interpret it as anything. You can decipher some sort of pattern, but nothing in the braille alphabet comes to mind that makes sense.

“Don’t think in words, love.” Albedo advised, “Imagine it as you would paint a landscape.”

He is familiar with your art technique. After all, he has always been a fan since he first purchased your work at an auction. His keen observation noticed that the colors bloom from the center. Then, multiple layers come to refine the structure and control the shades. Once the painting is complete, the basic foundations are harder to notice but details never escape Albedo. To him, it felt like he was seeing two images in a single painting: one perceived by sight, and another perceived by heart—dual masterpieces for the price of one.

You follow his words and thus you begin to deduce a work of something.

The braille patterns made you think of Mondstadt’s flower meadows, petals of cecilia and seedheads of dandelions fluttering in the breeze. An orb that seems to be the sun is raised eastward with what appeared to be outlines of birds, aflight in the cloudy horizon. There are faint marks connoting mountains in the distance, and flowing swirls that felt like wave patterns along the coast. To further understand his message, you sought the center much like how you used to paint.

Albedo detects your newfound focus, aware that an image has been imprinted upon your mind.

“[Name],” he murmured tenderly, “I need you to keep your hands on the canvas. I will guide you in this next step. Do you trust me?”

You smiled meaningfully, “Always.”

A loving caress upon your skin is accompanied by a chaste kiss on your crown.

“I cannot give you the world—”

Then, the brailles moved.

“—but I can leave a piece of it in your hands.”

You quickly realize that the brailles were not made of ordinary material. Days and nights of listening to your lover’s random alchemy ramblings allowed you to learn a thing or two. This braille painting has been constructed with special elemental crystals. From the feel of it, they respond strongly to elemental energy—particularly yours and Albedo’s combined, both currently being channeled. Depending on the crystal, it can resonate with other elements.

Beneath your hands, the patterns moved in looping motion to signify that it was animated. Furthermore, the energy that resonated from every shard is almost alive. Anemo can be felt from the swaying of the dandelions, and dendro amplified the scent of the scattered cecilia across the grassland. Even the painted sun emits a comforting warmth due to hints of pyro, as if bathing the scenery with its light. The waves along the shoreline felt moist due to hydro, which resonated strongly with you—and for a short second, you actually miss Fontaine. The mountains are the familiar cold of cryo, which then registered for you that it was likely a reference of Dragonspine.

Just from this, your mind’s eyes can almost envision the outline of a city—one founded by Barbatos.

In Albedo’s eyes, the special formula for the paint which Sucrose helped him concoct had finally revealed itself. To outsiders, the canvas is nothing more but a lumpy surface. In truth, the blind will see its true form; and when given life via elemental energy, the rest will be unveiled. To you whom once knew the colors of the world, the simple animations of the image form a kaleidoscope that provides you melancholic nostalgia. By your fingertips, it certainly felt as if Albedo had given you a piece of the world that only you can see.

For this one moment, he and you can perceive the same world.

Tears gathered in your eyes yet a heartfelt smile radiantly shone upon your face. A sob of genuine happiness wracked your throat. As your knees begin to weaken, you leaned on the man that helped you see again—

—even if only a few seconds.

Albedo also smiled in relief, fully embracing you around the shoulders in support. He let you take in the moment while he basked under the blessing of your presence.

“If there is anything else you wish to see again,” he solemnly swore, “I will be your eyes and shall piously present its sights to you.”

At his oath, you abruptly let go of the painting and turned. Cupping his face in your hands, your lips eagerly meet his. Albedo returns your passionate amor with fervor, ever delighted to please you. He wishes to someday discover the truth of this world, as his master bade him to do. His one desire is that you would be there beside him when he does.

Even if destruction came by his hand, he already knows one truth by heart—

“The beauty of this world forever pales in comparison to you.”

DILUC RAGNVINDR is an uncrowned king raised as a noble gentleman of chivalry and gallantry. From the fiery red of his hair to his stern crimson glare, he upholds his aristocratic lineage with dignity. The cumbersome title of lord dictates the gravity of his obligations to Mondstadt. Whether as a nocturnal vigilante or as master of Dawn Winery, those who dare to threaten his home will face the wrath of his flames. Sinners who refuse penance shall have their blood paint the mighty blade of his claymore, as a furious firebird sends the wicked to retribution.

As a man coveted by many, he keeps his circle small and tightly knit. An outsider’s only chance to ever earn his favor is to either make themselves useful to Mondstadt, or by earning the approval of his more compassionate wife.

That woman is none other than you.

Diluc met you as a playmate in his childhood. His father, Master Crepus, was both a close friend and trusted business partner of your parents. Like the Ragnvindrs, your family specializes in the wine industry—specifically the medicinal values that are incorporated in liquor. Although your own father is from Mondstadt, he settled down in Liyue upon marrying your mother. Secretly, you and Diluc were arranged to be married. Everything worked out well since you both actually liked each other a lot. He was a very protective yet supportive friend, while you were a tactful and encouraging listener. When Kaeya had joined the family, the three of you became quite the inseparable trio.

Then, Crepus Ragnvindr died.

Everything happened so fast. Before you knew it, your fiancé chose to disappear and left only a single note for you as goodbye. It was not even a proper farewell, at least not the kind he made sure to give you every time. Even if there was little to no sincere romance in your engagement, you both respected each other as equals. However, his final note had completely staggered you.

“Don’t wait for me.” It said.

Such a heavy message in merely four words…

You understand what he means by it. He has made a decision wherein he would prefer to not involve you, and thus opting to let you go. The contract regarding the engagement was never too binding. Crepus had assured that either of you can break it off if you both reach such a consensus. However, the former head of the Ragnvindr Clan did not just choose any girl to be paired with his son. He specifically took interest in you because he always knew—if any woman can ever match his son and heir in terms of headstrong stubbornness, it can only be you.

With the patience of a saint, you graciously accepted Diluc’s decision. However, it did not mean you would back down so easily.

Honestly, you see it as poor manners to just leave things with a note. You have to just wait in the Dawn Winery so you can give him a proper scolding upon his inevitable return. Until then, you were more than willing to manage everything else on his behalf. The servants are ecstatic to find out you meant to stay despite their young master’s wishes. Your parents are also very considerate, only ever wishing for your happiness since then and now.

Under your supervision, Dawn Winery flourished and maintained dignity after the loss of its masters. You hold the cunning and integrity of any businessman worth their salt. Adelinde, Elzer, and the entire staff can attest that you are more strict than even the late Lady Ragnvindr—wife of Master Crepus.

Kaeya never confided to you whatever caused the fallout between him and his brother. However, he seemed so relieved and touched when you did not treat him differently. If anything, you seem to dote on him even more now—like a real older sister. He thus returns your kind and loving care equally, a bout of protectiveness that rivals your absent fiancé.

Years later, tragedy struck once again.

You were mistaken as the official Lady Ragnvindr by whichever enemies Diluc had made. They aimed to lure him out by means of threatening his supposed wife, taking you hostage. Despite being Visionless, you were far from a pushover. You did not go down without a fight and worked to plan your escape.

In the end, your captors thought you to be more trouble than your worth…

…and so, they aimed to kill you.

It is only due to Kaeya’s timely arrival this instance that you did not follow Crepus.

However, you did not get out of the incident perfectly unscathed. The brutality you suffered had caused a critical and permanent injury on your spine. It is with heavy hearts that the doctors informed you of the grim situation: you can never walk again.

Diluc promptly returned to Mondstadt when Kaeya relayed the news to him via letter. He had been so devastated to realize that you almost died because of him. He wanted to protect you by letting you go, but he underestimated your resolve. In his mind, he knew the only way to truly get you far away from him is to make you hate him. Upon finding courage to visit you, he doubled down on his determination when he left you years ago. You deserve better, and the life he could give you as Lady Ragnvindr will only be a disappointment. You deserve so much better than waking up to a cold, empty bed and waiting on late nights.

He opened the door to your room in his manor, ready to break your heart so you can leave him.

However, his hardened goal fell short.

You sat by the window, as beautiful as the day he last saw you. Even confined to a wheelchair, you remain smiling so warmly. Your enchanting gaze meets his crimson pair, and he melted at the sheer adoration you bestowed upon him. Your cheeks took a rosy glow, and your smile widened—lips moving to utter words of welcoming him back home, yet he cannot hear a thing. His only thoughts revolved on how badly he wanted to kiss you right now.

Diluc missed you so much, and hence he realized that he really is a fool.

How can he ever survive if he truly broke your heart, the most precious thing you entrusted to him?

“Marry me.” He said.

Much to his surprise, you only laughed and accepted—as if you always believed he would return to you.

It was truly laughable how easily you can weaken his resolve with a mere smile.

“It took you long enough, Master Diluc~!”

You winked at him as you laughed. Despite your lighthearted cheer, the redhead can see that the years apart took a toll on you. He crossed the room in graceful strides and he saw you more vividly. The bags under your eyes did little to dull their sparkle; the hollowness of your cheeks worried him but the rosy hue amplified their glamor; and your pallor was a little too pale for his liking, yet the freckles across your nose reassured him that you get enough sun on a daily basis.

Then, he bends down to hold you close and buries his face at the crook of your neck.

Your heart skipped lightly.

Then, you hugged him back—more tightly.

Diluc said nothing as he felt his shoulder get wet, and you did not make a sound as yours trembled.

“Welcome home.” You whispered.

He grits his teeth to fight against the tears.

“I’m home.” He murmurs.

The marriage started a little awkwardly. Three years had been a long time, and you both had changed in ways that put a strain on your dynamic. However, as you both learned to trust each other the way you did as kids, everything else flowed smoothly. You relied on him as he relied on you. Thanks to your endless patience, you managed to help your dear husband in anything that troubled his heart. At times, it is only by your gentle interventions that his overprotective tendencies can be quelled. It had become norm for the people of Mondstadt to see you at a cozy corner of Angel’s Share—beside the bar, whenever your husband took a shift. Any shenanigans are put to a stop by a warning glare that seemed more scathing than any other nights. None of the patrons—drunk or otherwise—dare to start any ruckus as long as you were present in the tavern.

There is nothing that Diluc kept from you anymore, as he claimed no more secrets. Although, he was curious when you steered clear if the topic is Kaeya.

“It’s not just your secret to share.” You reasoned.

The redhead felt his love and respect for you deepen at the claim.

Now, you sat in your husband’s office. While he was busy doing paperwork, you did embroidery on a silk pillow that got torn. However, there was a stifling air in the room that bothered him.

“What is it?” Diluc asked.

You raise a brow, “What do you mean?”

He stared back knowingly, “You have been redoing the same stitch for the past half hour. That only happens when you’re distracted; and you’re only ever distracted when something is troubling you.”

The redhead leans back on his chair, dropping his quill to cross his arms.

“So,” he continued, “what is it?”

You blushed at the fact you were caught so easily, but also flattered by how he is so attentive to you.

Diluc is then worried by your prolonged hesitance, gradually standing up from his chair. He walks up to you leisurely, kneeling by your side. His gloved hands take yours, mindful of your needlework as he placed it on the table. His vibrant eyes implore you to share your burdens, waiting and encouraging.

“I lied to you.”

He frowns at your blunt confession but said nothing, tilting his head to let you continue.

“On our wedding,” you reminisced, “you asked me what I wanted most so you could provide it. I replied that there was nothing more I could ever want since you asked me to marry you for real.”

Your right hand carefully broke free from his, rising to tuck his fringe away. Your palm rests on his cheek and your husband savored it with fondness. He then recalls being ready to arrange a grandiose wedding that day, remembering how much you rambled about being like a princess in your shared childhood. As a young boy, it used to grate on his nerves; but as your fiancé, Diluc found it necessary to pay attention.

Back then, he did not question it when you asked for a simpler celebration. After all, a lot has changed between him and you—for better and for worse.

“However,” you murmured, “there was one thing I had truly wished to experience with you.”

Your eyes stray away from his, drifting towards the unfinished embroidery pillow. His own eyes follow, and he immediately understands. The picture’s basic design depicts a pair of lovers dancing under the moonlit night. A gazebo frames their silhouettes while lampgrass grew around its base structure.

A wedding dance.

Diluc looks back up to you, smiling in exasperated affection. He then leans forward, taking you into his arms as he stood up. A mild squeak escapes your lips as your own arms clung to his neck, caught off guard by his sudden movement. Your husband steps out of the room while carrying you, yet offers no explanation whatsoever. Although you felt confused, it did not stop you from relaxing in his embrace and just leaning against him.

The redhead took you to the main foyer, and headed straight towards a small library corner. He dismisses the maid stationed to clean it, leaving you both in privacy. First, you were placed on the recliner near the fireplace. Then, he walked towards the old yet pristine gramophone. It belonged to his mother, he vaguely remembers. His father told him that she always loved to collect vinyls, a bittersweet sheen of unconditional love shining in his eyes.

The young lord wonders if the two of you would also remain as in love when you get older together.

“Diluc, what is this all about—”

You trailed off as waltz music began to play.

“When my wife wishes to dance,” he says, “what kind of husband am I to refuse?”

A suave smirk on his handsome face leaves you so utterly breathless. Your heart races, bursting with an unspeakable joy to call this man yours. Captivated by the sight of him, you can only watch as he strides back to you—charming as a prince straight out of a fairy tale book. His gloved hand is presented with a chivalrous bow, his rare theatric side being shown only for you—always only for you.

“May I have this dance, Milady?” He asks.

You gape speechlessly for a minute. A part of you was reluctant. How can you possibly dance in this circumstance? Nonetheless, you trust Diluc more than anything so you accepted.

“You may.”

Diluc gives a dazzling smile at your faith in him, and gently pulls you up. He expertly places your feet on his shoes, carrying your weight as you swayed. One of your hands is on his shoulder while one of his arms is wrapped firmly around your waist, holding you close. Your respective free hands are entwined, inseparable and perfectly at ease.

The marital couple moved fluidly and gracefully. You entrusted your body completely, to be moved in this dance he led confidently. Your patience and trust are returned by his warmth and protection, cradling you in a chrysalis that hopes to let you flourish. He even dares to help you twirl, making the skirt of your dress flutter like the petals of a wild rose in bloom.

The dreamlike sequence ends as he dips you into an intimate position. Heartbeats skip in sync, never of fear but of exhilaration.

Your hands leave his, believing he would never let you fall even if you let go. His grip transferred to your back and your nape, eager to be your support. You caress his face and pull him down for a searingly passionate kiss. He indulges you wholly, taking all that you have willingly given him. Your fingers shook as they entangle with his red mane. With the ease of a man who wields a claymore, he lifts you up. Your arms held tight around his neck, tilting into a new angle to not break the kiss. The fervor is returned a hundred fold, as if Diluc wishes nothing more than to fuse his soul with yours.

You are the one who empowers his flames, igniting his heart as your chosen Ifrit.

He made a vow at the altar, and not even death can do you part anymore—

“The privilege to call you mine is an honor I cannot surrender to fate.”

KAEYA ALBERICH is someone painfully aware of the power in words, and uses it to his advantage. He is as mysterious as he is efficient at being the Cavalry Captain of Ordo Favonius. The charisma he exudes can be as menacing as the frigid coldness of his Cryo Vision. The swiftness of his blade can be more merciful than the secrets he ruthlessly exploits. As much as he is admired by his peers, everyone can unanimously agree that his enigmatic ways leave them a little wary to trust him entirely. Nevertheless, the cunning of a flightless bird is just as deadly as the venom of a pit viper. A reluctance to comply is merely a sign to delve deeper.

In the carefree city of Mondstadt, only one has squared up to his level and defeated him—

—in every sense of the word.

You are the dainty little assistant of Lisa Minci, the resident librarian of Mondstadt. She slyly evades all attempts of divulging how and from where she met you. It is rumored she just found you sewing some of her worn books one day, and then decided that she has to have you as her assistant. The only other thing known about your relationship with her is that she can be extremely protective to the point of territorial. Similarly, nobody can fully understand the eccentricities demonstrated by the Witch of Purple Rose as much as you do. Since your employment, a peaceful synergy can be observed in the workings of the library and even the Knights of Favonius HQ.

The most notable thing about you is how you never limit your goodwill to work. Anyone you can reach is always on the receiving end of compassion. As such examples, Lisa has proudly introduced you to many of her prestigious friends. Since then, it had become a norm for them to see you.

Jean always ends up a little more relaxed with the cups of coffee you brew for her. You serve her tea as a silent insistence when it was time to rest. Albedo and Sucrose now have a habit of asking your referral in finding the best locations for any ingredients they would need. At random times, you appear around the corner to help Noelle in the most menial tasks and labors. Whenever Amber returns from her daily outriding, she would find you welcoming her by the gates with some food and water. Lastly, even Eula has begun picking you up to join her for lunch on weekends. You are the only civilian that never treats her differently, and actually seems to like her very much as a friend.

In a bout of poetic irony, the only one that seems to rarely receive your kindness was Kaeya.

Of course, you were far from unkind or cruel. You still greet him amicably every time you cross paths in the hallways or city streets. However, his shrewd gaze can detect your hesitance to interact with him for prolonged periods of time. Politely asking you about it did him no good as well. You only stared at him skeptically before shrugging, as if he should know the answer. A part of him questioned why it even bothered him so much, but perhaps it was a matter of ego. He knows himself well enough to be aware that it could be the reason he kept persisting on gaining your favor.

When Kaeya decided to tell Lisa about his situation, she had the gall to laugh at him.

“It’s because she sees right through you.”

Kaeya raises a brow, “I beg your pardon?”

Lisa smiles sharply, “My darling [Name] is an astute judge of character. It’s one of the reasons I adore her so much. Like you, she also knows her way with words. The more you talk while she listens, the more she compares the character she sees in your eyes and the persona that speaks with your lips. If they don’t match up, she will consider you to be too dangerous.”

For a moment, the Cavalry Captain felt his eyes darken defensively. A second later, they return to being detachedly bemused.

The Witch of Purple Rose catches the slip but does not comment about it. In fact, she willingly closes her eyes to let the man have his moment. However, she did continue to speak her piece.

“You’re not a bad guy,” she states, “and she knows that well. However, [Name] is the type who does not like to converse with people that refuse to respect the weight of the words they speak.”

A beaming smile is given by the librarian as she pats her colleague on his shoulder.

“Try speaking a little more honestly! It might earn you some brownie points.” She said.

Kaeya wanted to claim he is not going to bother and that he will just leave it at that. Alas, it seems he had found his match and could not resist your allure. In the end, he nodded before taking his leave.

To Lisa’s credit, her advice worked.

Obviously, Kaeya did not lay everything out in the open; but he became more sincere in his efforts to befriend you. To his pleasant surprise, you may be taciturn and reserved but it did not make you shy at all. If anything, you were quite bold for a pretty little damsel. He playfully flirted with you a few times and you were barely fazed. You even flirted back with teasing glances and fleeting touches that—he was impressed to admit—flustered him in shock. Your dollface can be deceiving as well. He had seen you pettily tattle to Lisa about patrons that give you a hard time. In turn, the mage trusts you to be the one to remind her of anyone who is late on their book returns. Thus, he watched you just peacefully sip tea while your employer terrorized the poor souls that earned her wrath with an innocent smile.

You rewarded the Cavalry Captain’s honest efforts by opening up to him a little.

It is here that Kaeya learned you were mute.

The cause was a very unfortunate birth defect when you were born prematurely. Your vocal chords did not grow correctly and almost suffocated you. The doctors were forced to remove it entirely via surgery so you can survive. Growing up, you became quite the bookworm because of this disability. You found solace in the immersion of reading the words you can never speak. It gradually turned you into a very talented scholar worthy of Lisa’s attention. Your nurturing ways with books and your preservation of comfort amidst the silence certainly gained merits.

Of course, your reserved nature did not mean you are to be underestimated.

The Witch of Purple Rose chose you as her personal assistant and sole substitute for a reason. It can be argued that you are potentially more frightening. You are the calm before the storm; and when you strike, no one ever sees it coming. Whenever hooligans think they can just steal books from the restricted section, every single one will be found hogtied and gagged on the Knights of Favonius’ doorsteps. A damsel you may appear but the only distress that can be felt is by the drunkards, who think they can harrass you without direct consequences. In fact, you made it your personal vendetta to discipline every member of Barbara’s fanclub and their stalker tendencies. A failure to comply forces them into public humiliation by wearing nun attires, and then prostrating themselves in front of Barbatos to beg for forgiveness.

Venti had an interesting view when he woke up from his nap on the statue’s hands.

The job of Cavalry Captain became that much more entertaining, and easier too.

Public ordinance is now easy to handle for all the patrolling knights, whom often need to tread lightly just to appease the common folks. Although the Acting Grandmaster would never say it outloud due to her soft nature, she was thankful for this subtle measures you have been making—especially in regards to her sister’s privacy and safety. Even the stoic Master Diluc seems to respect you since he actually makes effort to greet you more than he does any other stranger in the streets. Your drinks in Angel’s Share are discounted too, which is always a plus after a long day of work. Lisa took advantage of this perk just to tease.

As he got to know you, Kaeya finally arrived to a profoundly frightening conclusion.

He was falling in love with you.

No, he may have already fallen the moment you had turned into his newest fixation. The icy captain can recall Lisa’s words—how you judge people based on the character in their eyes, if it matches the persona that speaks. You actually looked at him and saw him with just a single glance; and when his words blurred the truth, his facade was already unraveling before your piercing gaze. You rejected him because he was denying the lost boy you see, and you embraced him when the charismatic captain found felicity in your companionship. You accepted both sides even if you knew nothing about either of them.

However, for all his clever ways in manipulating the feelings of others, Kaeya is powerless at the face of his own emotions.

Hence, the reasonable thing in his perspective is to simply run away from you.

It hurt you but it was something you also understood quite well. As mentioned, you were aware of Kaeya’s true character from the get-go. It was fine if this is really what he wants. You both lived your lives just fine when keeping your respective secrets. That should not change just because romantic feelings are now involved.

Lisa and your friends firmly believed otherwise.

Your doting older sister figure tells you one day that the elusive captain left a message. He says to meet him in Windrise, where Jean had put him on patrol for suspicious activity of the Abyss Order. In a twist of fate nobody expected, they even managed to get Diluc involved to make the information appear to be legitimate. The redhead claims he was getting sick of Kaeya's face brooding over you in Angel’s Share.

All else, as they say, was history when you were both given a chance to confront the truth together.

Now, Kaeya watches over your sleeping form on his bed—tuckered out from today’s work.

You are curled up to his chest, nuzzling his clavicle like a kitten. A delightful shiver ran through his spine every time your warm breaths hit his skin. Your left arm is draped over his waist while your right hand rested over his chest. His own arm cushions your head, bent by the elbow to poise himself up while he ran his fingers through your hair. The other one holds you close by the waist, legs intertwined so no space remains. The moonlight peeks through the curtains, basking you in afterglow that left him mesmerized every night. Leaning down, his lips tenderly kissed your brow as his embrace tightened possessively.

He grins as he felt your fingers move drowsily on his back, crumpling the blouse.

“Why are you watching me sleep?”

You drew special patterns to speak, blinking your eyes open to stare blankly at your lover.

He chuckles, bending down to give you an eskimo kiss while tracing words on your back as well.

“You look too beautiful to be true.”

You hummed in the form of a soft exhale, observing your beloved closely. Your hand leaves his back and reached up to his face, tucking his fringe behind his ear to see both of his eyes. It no longer concerns him to let you see his normally hidden eye, which flickered for a fraction of a second. He disclosed everything long ago. He has nothing else to hide, not from you at least—never again from you.

In fact, the language you were both using to silently communicate is from Khaenri'ah.

Kaeya invented the sign language of it and taught it to you. In public, people think it is just a cute secret between couples; but you knew better. There is a power in words, and Kaeya had entrusted you this in particular—a piece of his true self that only you can keep. Not even Diluc knew this much about him, as their bond of brotherhood shattered before he could make an attempt. Henceforth, you use this sign to talk with him privately and send messages only for your dear captain to decipher.

As you caressed his cheek, Kaeya sighed in perfect bliss. He leans towards your touch, turning his head to press a loving kiss on your palm. His own hand reached up to keep it in place. Delicately, his index finger traces another message on your knuckles.

“You’re not just a sweet dream, are you?”

Your eyes softened in understanding, smiling in hopes to alleviate his insecurities. Your hand directs his to your heart, much like how your other one stays above his own. Two hearts beat as one, delivering a mutual confession beknownst only to you and him.

Your lips moved and his unique eyes read them as if they held the meaning of life.

“I’m real, and I’m yours.”

Unable to help himself, Kaeya changes positions to loom over you. He pins your hands by the wrist on either sides of your head. You let him, locking eyes to wait until he regains his anchor to reality. As he straddles you, he leans down and his scarred eye glows with an unknown power. For a moment, the star in his misty blue orb sharpened into a slit. Then, his grip eventually loosens. Your arms soon take the chance to slither around his neck. You pull him down to your level, sensually slow to leave him in intense anticipation. Once he is a mere breath away, you lean up and forward.

Kaeya never fails to find sanctuary in your embrace, and salvation in your kiss. The taste of ambrosia is as addictive as the first time. He wanted more—needed more, even if it meant unequivocal demise.

One of his hands seeks one of yours, pressing against the mattress to interweave. A final message is traced as you both succumb to the passion that has waged wars since the dawn of creation.

“I love you.”

If the day of reckoning ever comes for him, the last hope of Khaenri'ah knows he does not stand alone.

Kaeya will always remember to seek out your light, and savor the hour of respite in your shadow. He holds faith in no god nor archon; but before you, he shall bend the knee in devoted worship.

This lost prince of sinners may be predestined for damnation, but he prays in your name—

“You are my northern star, the light that guides me back home.”

VENTI is a bard whose secrets are guarded by the lullabies of yesteryore and evermorrow. He holds the face of jubilant youth, yet his eyes tell a tale as old as time. While his voice mellifluously sings of tunes so spirited and free, his heart weighs heavy with the burden of an untold sacrilege. A couple thousand years can be a long time, yet the agony remains as fresh as the memories of a lucid dream. As he dons a smile that hopes to brighten the days and luminate the nights of Mondstadt, his soul belies the image of a nameless friend long gone. At times when the winds blew too coldly, he relies on the burning heat that drips down his throat—a taste so fine yet so bitter, like the freedom he idolizes.

Memories remind people what matters most, a life’s purpose to never forsake. However, more often than not, they come with the cruel regrets of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Henceforth, in tiresome days, the expense of living gets a little too much; and in sleepless nights, the weight of existing gets a little heavier.

Alas, when stars align just right, the wind will lead a pair of soulmates to find one another.

In Venti’s case, you found him.

It is actually very difficult to get him drunk, even if he acts otherwise. To be precise, he recovers quicker by getting sober minutes after he felt tipsy—and then, he would be downing another bottle. It is annoying for someone who just wants to forget his problems, but that is partially why he became accustomed to binge drinking. His rate of alcohol consumption would kill an average human, via alcohol poisoning, by the time he actually blacks out.

Amidst this cold and lonely night, the windborn bard was spared an ounce of warmth by a kind muse.

Venti woke up in a peculiar cottage that smelled of pollen and varnished wood. He heard the chirping of bluebirds, rousing him further away from his drowsy haze. A ray of sunshine peeks through the hanging cheap fabric used as curtains. He sits up, braids all messy with a very entangled bedhead.

As he stumbled out of the bedroom, the familiar sounds of Der Frühling beckoned him to the front porch. His veteran ears can attest that the notes are undoubtedly produced by a musician's hands, but a mere novice in the ways of the lyre. There was a harmonious flow in melody, yet the tone and pitch held little to no finesse in-between transitions. A sense of sheepish uncertainty distorts the song, but there was a certain charm in its dissonance.

He turns a corner, and there he saw you—

—a young dame sat upon a rickety swing, taming the bluebirds that sang for her strings.

The amused bard leaned against the doorway to watch the free show. His gleaming teal eyes stared blatantly, mesmerized by his supposed hostess. You wore an outfit that resembled his, but more modest and somewhat mismatched in color palette—an odd choice for a fellow bard. The only flashy thing about you is the Anemo Vision pinned onto your hair as it tied up your headband braid. It functioned as a hair ornament surrounded with cecilia and windwheel aster petals. A teal silk ribbon was mixed into your braid as its curled tail fluttered under your Vision ornament.

You seem to be inexperienced with the lyre, as Venti had confirmed upon seeing your performance; but you are still quite precise in your play. In theory, you hold enough knowledge to figure out which note works for a particular measure. Before he realized it, his own voice begins humming alongside the chirps of the gathered songbirds.

Alas, joining your small choir of avian creatures had startled them into flying away.

You also stiffened with a surprised jolt, practically snapping your head to look back at him. He does note that it was the birds’ exit that had shocked you, and not his soundly abrupt entrance.

“Ehe~!” Venti giggled nervously, “Sorry about that.”

You fumbled for a moment yet held the lyre firmly, careful to keep it steady. Standing up, you then walk over to him even though you shook in anxiety. Ever so tenderly, you returned his dearest Der Frühling as if handing over a precious baby.

Venti finds this heartwarming and endearing, having not met a fellow bard as considerate as you. He thus receives his lyre with gratitude, tracing its frame and plucking the strings. He marvels at the fact you even polished the instrument and retuned the strings.

“Many thanks, fellow bard~!” He chirped, “My name is Venti. May I know yours?”

You stared blankly at him for a moment, as if taking a few minutes to decipher his words. He spoke a little too quickly on purpose, patiently observing if you would prove his suspicions. As soon as you finally understood, you replied with some stutters in-between your syllables. It seemed more like a sound of uncertainty rather than a speech impediment.

“I-I am…[Name].”

A deaf virtuoso—the windborn bard believes you will make an interesting friend.

Ever since that day, Venti developed a habit of either visiting your abode or seeking you to hang out in the city. His consistent presence helped you be more comfortable in conversations. There was little to no stutters in-between your sentences now. As a bard whom prided himself in knowing all music of the past and future, the art of sign language is a helpful skill he utilized to pleasantly astound you.

The bard had never seen any mortal beam so bright when you smiled at him that day.

While you have gotten comfortable with him, Venti has also grown comfortable with you. There have been many incidents wherein his smiling mask just naturally came down around you. By your side, he felt more freedom than he has ever experienced in the past centuries. He knew it was dangerous to let this continue. The god in disguise has always been meticulously aware of his own feelings; and he was more than aware that he is falling for a mortal he will someday outlive.

However, he found you hard to resist.

Neither Venti nor Barbatos can hope to deny your profoundly unconditional love. What kind of god could reject such a heartfelt offering?

Despite your penchant for playing any available instrument, you preferred not to take center stage. In fact, your hidden knack for taming avian creatures is how you earn a daily living. Every songbird in the City of Freedom knows your tunes and can chirp them on command. This is due to your Anemo Vision, which has a unique ability that enables you to interact with the birds by means of frequency. Depending on how you control the vibrations in the breeze, they will follow like a choir does with a maestro.

You once dedicated a performance to Barbatos and the Four Winds. On that day, Venti heard his wisp brethren amongst the thousand winds croon at you in delight. He witnessed the silhouette of Vennessa’s falcon form hovering above you appraisingly, and a resounding roar can also be heard from Dvalin in his proclaimed lair. There were even the echoing howls of Andrius and his pack in Wolvendom.

This leads him to discover that your true talent lies in writing music. He had seen and read your musical compositions, grinning at every single one. With your permission, he even played a few in your home as payment for your gracious hospitality.

“You can negotiate with bards for this, you know.” He proposed, “I’m no businessman; but even I know letting other musicians play this will earn you a hefty sum of mora.”

You smiled sadly, “N-Nobody…w-would acknowledge music…composed by a deaf girl.” You confessed.

Venti turned solemn as he gazed at you. Although intimidating in its rarity, you are not perturbed by this abrupt change of mood. Your darling bard wears a mask on a daily basis that blurs truth and deceit.

You have become acquainted with them all.

He hummed playfully, “Now that just won’t do.”

You tilt your head confusedly, blinking in surprise when he suddenly takes hold of your hands.

“Ehe~!” He giggled, “Let me play…all of your music, [Name]. In fact, I’ll write…a lyrical ballad…for each of them. We’ll be the best duo…in Mondstadt!”

He had to slow down his speech a bit since he could not use his hands to help you keep up.

Thus, a new routine began for you two.

Venti kept his word. For the next few months, he only sang of the tunes you composed. A few of his regular listeners heard the slightest change in his playstyle. A part of him wished to smile bitterly as other bards and occasional playwrights praised his talent. He pettily made sure to charge thrice from them when he was requested for encores. These fools had rejected you just because of your disability yet they literally sing praises when he played your creations. Any artist worth their salt should have been able to see your potential at a glance.

Nevertheless, he ensured to always come home to you with bags full of mora whenever he plays your music in particular. You deserve nothing less than that, and he refuses to settle for anything else.

Regardless of this success, Venti recognized the melancholy in your eyes. You used to smile radiantly every time you watched him play. Your ears cannot hear the notes but you can feel the vibrations in the air. Your beguiling eyes relished the perfection of just watching Venti play to his heart’s content.

However, he was not blind to your inner turmoil and thus sought to relieve it.

“What’s wrong, Windblume?” He asked.

You hesitate, looking down at your feet. Gently, he props a finger under your chin to raise your head. A tender smile of encouragement implored you to speak your thoughts freely.

“I’m…frustrated.” You replied.

He says nothing but his smile does falter to a glaze of concern, waiting patiently to let you finish.

“I feel…so happy and grateful…when you play my songs.” You confided, “It’s finally being heard…and not just through the songbirds. People are now listening…to how it is supposed to be heard, and how I envisioned it to be played.”

Tears gather in your lovely eyes, overflowing with emotions too much for your heart. Your darling bard does not waver. He raises a hand to cup your cheek in his palm while his fingertips swept your sorrows.

“I want to…” you sobbed, “I want to hear you too!”

Venti held you protectively close, wishing more than anything else to shield you from this wild tempest of emotions. Alas, he was more than aware of the truth that the loveliest of rainbows can only come after the harshest storm. These are the feelings that must have festered for so long within you. People who can hear cruelly turn deaf to the ones whose worlds have been rendered silent. It was as if they do not deserve a voice if they knew not how it sounds. The thought infuriates the bard, reminding him of your beautiful songs discarded as nothing more than the passing chirps of songbirds.

He used his talents to let your ballads be heard.

Perhaps, he can use a different set of talents to let you hear his own?

You gripped onto Venti as if he was your lifeline, a part of you crumbling in sheer relief. He has always encouraged you to never be ashamed of what and how you feel. Whether it be deemed good or bad, all of it belonged to you. They make you human, the reason why he adores you above all. His gentle hand carded through your hair, skillful as when he plucks and strums the strings of Der Frühling. Pulling away slightly, his lips rested upon your temple and then your forehead. They stray towards your cheeks, a taste of salt from your tears.

Lastly, they hover above your own lips—centimeters apart, just a breath before they touch.

Teal eyes glow a shimmering green, both of you becoming enraptured by each other.

Venti needed you to say no more.

He takes you in his arms and spreads his wings. He delivers you to Windrise and its special tree, trusting him so wholly that you did not question him. Instead, you melted in his arms and enjoyed the warm breeze that wrapped around you like a blanket.

Once he sits you down beneath the tree, Venti sits in front of you to place one of your hands right above his heart. It beats steadily yet faintly, present yet not quite—like the wind he controls. He summons Der Frühling and smiles lovingly at you. The crystalflies illuminate his youthful features, providing a mystical glow that enthralls his dearest muse.

“Eyes on me, meine liebe.” He mouths.

Closing his eyes, he begins his private performance.

You frown, wondering what he means to prove with this. Still, you obliged his wishes and kept your eyes solely on him. Your hand remained where he placed it, right over the constant beating of his heart.

Then, you finally noticed the gathering streams of energy around yourself and your lover.

Your Anemo Vision began to glow alongside Venti’s iconic braids. The winds hummed together with him, united under his influence. It is an enchanting image, dazzling you into stunned admiration.

Then, you finally hear him—vocalizing the precious melody you dedicated to him alone. He sang of his past, his present, and his future which are now all intertwined by the whispers of you.

/Gales of song, please stay by my side/

He opens his eyes and releases his lyre. It plays as it floats, and you are mesmerized by how you can hear it all. By power of anemo, he merges your heart with his while enabling your psalm to be immortalized amongst the winds. He reaches up a hand to keep yours on his chest while its pair entangles with the other. His forehead leans on yours, gaze softening as you wept in bliss.

White feathers rained down on the landscape of green and blue. Floating lights illuminated the dark, be they stars or crystalflies. The Statue of the Seven sung in accompaniment to the intimate confessions of Barbatos—to you and for you.

/Winds of love, breathe into my life/

You can hear him so clearly—his regrets, his woes, his dreams, and his love. You hear it all through the song you composed at the thought of him, which he plays at the memory of you.

A fated parting shall occur someday, but he will love no other the way he loves you.

Therefore, with a passionate kiss, he makes you a promise—

“Come what may, you are the melody my heart will always sing.”

DAINSLEIF perseveres as a maverick shaped by his resolutions and driven by conviction. After enduring five centuries, he has earned a fair few titles as his new names. However, these remnants can never piece together his whole existence. As the Twilight Sword, there is no longer a Khaenri'ah to consider as his homeland to protect. As the Bough Keeper, there is no true grace to his purpose while burdened by a curse that shall someday rob him of his own mind and soul. In the eyes of Celestia, he is no more than a sinner doomed to a fate which can be argued as worse than death. As for the rest of the world, he is no more than a listless wanderer whom holds an obsession with stopping a disgrace known as the Abyss Order.

To honor those he had failed in his homeland, he can only move forward in the best way he knew—even if it is against those he had formerly served. Souls of the condemned hold no genuine hope of ascending to Celestia, for they amount to nothing more than heretics that do not worship any god. Therefore, for those who dare to remember, erosion will befall upon them as a final kiss of damnation. Before that day comes for him, this foolish score must be settled so he can meet his demise without regrets.

There is no genuine reward at the end of this tedious and lonesome quest. He is aware.

Nonetheless, the accursed immortal human refuses to falter under the taunt of judgment. If damnation is what shall meet him at the end of this quest, then he shall do it on his own terms. For if he must also end without his resolve, then there will truly be nothing left of him and Khaenri'ah.

There had been instances aplenty wherein the divine is likened to the flowers blossoming across Teyvat; and as a lonesome wanderer, he has grown accustomed to these tragic folklores.

The God of Dust named Guizhong left behind a quiet legacy amongst the glaze lilies. Songs which keep them abloom become tributes to her name.

The Goddess of Flowers known as Nabu Malikata had left her remnants within the padisarahs. Even if not as they were anymore, they serve as a memoir.

Godless they may have been, the glorious nation of Khaenri'ah also held pride over a particular flower—the Inteyvat. Alas, nobody but the former Twilight Sword retains the awareness to recall whom they represent the most.

“My memory has all but faded completely,” a voice murmurs piously, “but I will always remember how much she too loved these flowers.”

Dainsleif spoke not of Lumine here, although she does remind him of the one he reminisces. He dares say travelling with her had been the closest to home, a feeling of warm comfort. However, it never was the same exact happiness he sought in another—a mere ghost in his past. The lost historical relics in Sumeru speak of her as the last Eclipse Princess, whom was hailed as the Heretic Saintess. However, to him, she was the woman he dearly cherishes to this day…

…and the one he laments most for failing to protect in the bout of cataclysmic calamity.

Indeed, the Bough Keeper realizes; this accursed immortality is a fitting punishment for what Celestia deems a sinner. For he can forsake everything, but anything he has left of her will vividly linger. The doomsday of his own reckoning shall be when that too is ripped away from him.

Until then, he will dream of her. Until then, he will foolishly hope for the day they meet again.

Then, like a prayer to a nonexistent god, answers came in the ethereal form of you.

You met Dainsleif on a stormy night. In fact, he just found your cabin in the woods to seek a temporary shelter—injured and knocked unconscious. He was already half-delirious from a high fever, and it did not take a genius to know the man had a rough week. It is not out of kindness that you nursed him back to health, but due to a selfish motive to figure him out.

“Who are you?” You mumbled.

It seems he was not entirely out of it since he still managed to respond clearly.

“Dain…sleif…”

As soon as he muttered back, he eventually fell limp in your arms. For those brief seconds, there was a swelling ache upon your chest—nostalgia. A chilling tingle ran through your spine, like the touch of an invasive ghost on your skin—melancholy. Then, it spreads as smoldering heat to your veins as if to ignite your bloodstream—passion.

“Dainsleif, huh?”

The name felt like velvet on your tongue. His clothes and features were all too familiar to you—a fellow kinsman from Khaenri'ah. However, your eidetic memory never once brought you to a conclusion about this man’s identity. Regardless, your body reacts as if begging for your mind to catch up in recognition.

Even as you tended to him, nothing clicked.

“Your Highness…”

His voice weakly called, raspy and strained as if to choke it out. Your star-shaped pupils dilate as they meet his own hazy glare. His hand was reaching out to you, looking yet not truly seeing.

Alas, you made no move to truly stop him and remained awkwardly staring back.

“You’re dreaming, Sir Dainsleif.”

As if hearing his name from you brought comfort, he settles down again. His eyes start to close but now his hand found yours resting by his bedside. You recoiled yet his grip was oddly firm for a deeply ill patient. Perhaps, you can allow this until he gets some real rest.

When he recovered, Dainsleif vanished as abruptly as he barged into your life.

The next time you met again, it was your turn to be the one in need.

Dainsleif finds you in a clearing of soot and frost, holding a young man desperately. It was as if a clash of fire and ice had occurred under the rain. You look up to him, stars in your eyes shimmering with panic and sorrow. Without a word, he aids you by carrying the unconscious male and leading you back to the cabin. You made no reaction other than grasping onto his cloak tightly, like a lost child.

Despite not wishing to overstay his welcome, the Bough Keeper chose to stay for the night. You were unresponsive to him, as if your mind had shut down completely. A vague memory of a person so similar to you made Dainsleif familiar to the situation. Thus, the task of healing your patient fell to him until you could regain your composure.

“Please be well, Kaeya.” You murmured.

Dainsleif did not pry about your business, giving you the same respect you had done for his privacy. It did, however, astonish him when you took hold of his wrist and dragged him outside with you the next day.

The man named Kaeya stirred awake.

Befuddled, the former Twilight Sword kept silent as he watched from afar with you. Kaeya ate the warm meal you prepared on the table, and mixed emotions flickered in his eyes as he did. His head turned to observe everything in the cabin, searching almost as desperately as you appeared last night. Numerous dreamcatchers and embroideries decorate the walls in a contradictingly systematic manner. The more he analyzed, the more he remembered his childhood—as if your crafts gave him pieces of long forgotten memories. Then, he slowly stood up and made his way to a periwinkle dreamcatcher designed with a pavo ocellus constellation.

A single silver-blue eye gazed out the window, nearly catching your own gaze—

—but you ducked down behind the huge boulders and pulled Dainsleif with you to hide.

Kaeya got his things back and left a small note of gratitude for your care. Wordlessly, he left the cabin with the dreamcatcher now hanging on his belt—right beside his Cryo Vision. He looked back over his shoulder only once to give a bittersweet smile.

“Farewell, sis.” He whispered.

A humming zephyr delivered his message, and then he went back to Mondstadt.

Dainsleif sat down beside you for an entire hour, a mix of pity and empathy. When clarity returned to your eyes, he rose to take his leave. Once again, he was halted on his tracks by your hand grabbing onto his own gloved one.

“Hey,” you said, “do you mind if I go with you?”

Against his better judgment, the cursed immortal agreed after a minute of contemplation.

This newfound journey together has a very tedious beginning, mostly attributed to you. Everything was strange and nothing felt safe, which was expected because you both never stayed in one place. You, whom sought solace in consistency, were always forced to adapt to something new. Sleeping became a chore because you felt every small pebble and thin blade of grass pressing against you. It is by the mere thoughtfulness of your companion that you got a semblance of rest. Dainsleif always covered you in his cape and was willing to hold you soothingly, as if he knows just how to calm you down. There has been moments wherein you had tantrums, and some meltdowns that delayed some plans. Other days, you shut down completely and only wake back up to reality after a day or two.

Dainsleif was shockingly very patient with you, never berating and ready to soothe whenever you are in distress. He never once pushed you to go back. Only once, he offered to take you somewhere to settle after a very bad episode.

“No, I can’t!” You exclaimed, “I have to keep moving. I have to…keep going. Make sure…nobody finds me.”

It was unspoken that you were specifically running away from the City of Freedom, all for avoiding your your younger brother. There is a destiny that kept you both apart even when you mutually wish to be reunited. As children of Khaenri'ah, the former knight can take a guess what that sort of fate presents.

Since then, your travel companion did not question your decision anymore.

Without prompting, Dainsleif seemed used to your symptoms. It was almost eerie how he knew exactly what to say and do in every situation that involved your condition. He makes effort to prepare the same meals that you wish to have every day, and only light fruit snacks at night because you get very restless otherwise. At times he wanted to keep going, he stops himself to make camp for you first on the same evening hour before scouting ahead. He only allows himself to be gone for exactly 45 minutes, which was your limit to being alone whenever you both decide to camp out rather than checking into an inn or hotel. Whenever a wave of unease hits, he keeps a bag of materials that either lets you weave dreamcatchers or tinker an antique you scavenged in the ruins you passed. Every time your mind begins to close off, he sits down with you and holds your hands to meditate. When you need space, he keeps his distance; and when you need companionship, he keeps you close.

“How?” You ask.

Dainsleif raises a brow as he looks down at you. It was in the middle of Lantern Rite as you both watch the festivities from a nearby hill. After indulging in a few stalls, you calmed by playing with his fingers as your head rested on his lap. He knows the meaning to your one-worded inquiry, and he wonders how to answer you truthfully.

“I knew someone similar to you.” He said.

You sat up before blankly staring into his eyes, stars meeting stars. Tilting your head, a flash of curiosity brought light to your emotionless gaze.

“The princess…?” You asked.

The Bough Keeper blinked in surprise.

“You dreamed of her a lot when we first met.”

Your statement made him look away bashfully, a bit embarrassed to be reminded.

“Was she important to you?” You asked.

At this, he looks at you in the eyes. His star-shaped pupils practically gleam with an emotion you could not read—or perhaps, could not comprehend.

“She is my dearest one.” He declared.

Normal people probably would have felt jealous at that confession. He even used a present tense to show that his feelings have not wavered.

You and Dainsleif never gave a label to this peculiar relationship, but you hold a mutual understanding that it had grown to more than just friends. It was a development nurtured by meaningful exchanges and secretive affections. The sentiments are far from platonic or familial, that much is sure.

That night, when you released a lantern, you made a fleeting wish—

—not to the gods, but to the princess.

“Please look after Dainsleif.”

Meanwhile, the Twilight Sword fondly gazes upon your form. The image of your past self overlaps with the present. He recalls the ever sleepless nights of guarding you in the tower. Starlight showered upon your figure leaning by the windowframe. Delicate hands reach out to set free artificial crystalflies that glow as wisps of moonlight. A breath of laughter is echoed in the lonely room, and then he is blessed by a smile more divine than Celestia.

The memory flickers as the silver starlights are replaced by golden lanterns, and your humble self stood in place of the estranged saintess��

—but that smile remains.

Morning welcomed Dainsleif with the strange sight of you looming over him. With practiced ease, he resumes calm as he let you do as you please like it was nothing unusual. He knows of your quirks just as you are aware of his boundaries. There is mutual trust of consent that tells which actions would be acceptable anytime. He did gulp a little nervously as his drowsy eyes analyzed you. His hands twitched but he willed them to stay in place despite his inner yearning.

Disheveled, you were straddling him while still in your nightgown. Your hair was messily draped over your shoulders, creating a curtain around the blond man beneath you. A glazed veil engulfs your eyes like a dreamy countenance of a faraway reverie.

“Dain…”

“What is it, [Name]?”

“I had a dream last night.”

“A dream, you say?”

You nod, leaning down almost conspirationally yet the expression on your face remains unreadable. A gasp hitched in his throat as your lips strayed to his ear, whispering shakily—

“I remember, Dain.”

Realization struck him.

Dainsleif switches positions with you yet he receives no protest. His ungloved hands cup your face in order to meet your eyes with his own beseeching pair. You see his visage, unmasked and vulnerable, that longingly wish for your approval.

You nodded.

Dainsleif claims your lips in ardent greed, and you responded in eager devotion.

Intertwined, redamancy is bliss for the reunited knight and his only princess—

“Your heart is the only other half that can ever complete mine.”

[corrie-zodori]

what's sote? pls rant, go off rabid queen.

SLIDES EVERYTHING OFF THE TABLE AND SLAMS MY HANDS DOWN ON THE DESK I am normal I am okay I am good ahem SOTE Stands for "Spark of the Eye" which is the name of the story I'm currently sinking my teeth into! I am currently still developing it and there's a few things that need changing, solidifying, etc. before I'm ready to start proper work on it BUT I hope to turn it into a webcomic someday!! If you have seen these three dudes, these are the main characters of the story! Sorry for the awkward crops LOL

They have been utterly rotating in my brain for months and the more I develop them and their stories the worse it gets. Please send help (More under the cut!)

It's a project I started I think about 2 years ago now, officially, and it's already been completely overhauled from its original story. I don't wanna spoil it more than I do already with vague art things I make in a "I have many emotions and must get them out of me" stupor BUT it has the following things in it: - Cute fuzzy aliens (and some not so cute and/or fuzzy) - SPACE (and space travel! It's a sci-fi setting!) - Eldritch cosmic horror - Hot villains (Because I can. Might be just a personal opinion :^) ) - LGBTQIA+ (none of the main chars are straight...) - At least one(1) cheeseburger - Size difference shenanigans (one of the main characters is literally 14 feet tall... and the others are quite smol) - And it does have heavier themes of existentialism, trauma, messy relationships, identity, abuse, self reflection and introspection, exploration of healing/coping, and more. So if this isn't your cup of tea, do be aware (when I do get around to making and posting the comic.) The story is not a tragedy, I will say outright. I don't do well with them, most of the time, but it might get heavy at times. I want to do this story justice, but I know it won't ever be perfect, but I'm trying to find a good balance between "I want to bring this to life because its important to ME and its SO self indulgent" and "I want this to be enjoyable for the people who read it too." At the end of the day, I have to trust in myself. Not everyone will like it, and I know it won't be everyone's cup of tea. But I do hope that some people will, and I love working with these characters and their stories and they mean a whole lot to me. ^^ I just want to have a good time and I want other people to as well! Ty for enabling me to gush about them a little bit, even if I have to be a bit vaugue, it means... a TON really, I've been ITCHING for an excuse to talk about them but never know how to break the ice. I've found the best way is to just throw them out into the open like scattered birdseed and see who is curious!! I'd be happy to talk about them more if anyone has any specific questions, if I can answer ofc!

[adidegmez]

x-men '97 spoilers

ep 1(To Me, My X-Men)

wow. i just finished x-men animated series. last eps were different than the other seasons. im glad they made this Show story wasnt ober yet. this new start is so good. artstyle is amazing. The visual effects were so cool. everything is great. it was fun. cyclops is struggling. There's a lot of pressure on him. and he is leaving x-men with Jean. Jean is pregnant. Charles really left everything to magnus?! and why is bishop still there i get that timeline is not right but they are not doing a certain thing to fix it. and im glad morph is back. and rogue and gambit i love them. logan and morph's friendship is nice.

ep 2(Mutant Liberation Begins)

Why did they suddenly start calling Magnus Erik? Okay, Erik is also his name i know, but they used to call him Magnus. Erik is an honorable man. I want to believe and trust him. I hope he doesn't have any evil plans. We'll see what happened between rogue and magneto. storm lost her Powers while trying to save magneto. magneto tried. he really did. humans suck(most of the times-in most of the universes). they dont deserve them. dr. rogue and baby is here. scott is being nice to magneto. its good for now. but not for long probably. ororo left. gambit's heart is broken. and 2 jean's?! I cried in the last two minutes of the episode more than I ever cried in the first 5 seasons. It was more painful. it happened in a much more perfect way. it was beautiful. I guess this is what happens when an animated series is made for adults. i really love it.

ep 3(Fire Made Flesh)

Why is Roberto in the mansion? Is he there to hang out with jubilee or is he staying there now? Since when is jean a clone? goblit queen is so powerfull. baby is gone. Madelyne is one but i think we'll see her again someday. hi, forge. i hope this is really forge and he can help storm.

ep 4(Motendo/Lifedeath - Part 1)

I want to see more gambit and rogue. and I want to see nightcrawler. not mojo again🤦🏻‍♀. jubilee's powers are cool. storm:(. i hope she can get her Powers back. i love forge. he did something bad but he wants to redeem himself. i hope he can.

ep 5(Remember It)

this Show makes me so happy. kurt is here. genosha is beautiful. mutants live in peace. madelyn is here. and i got gambit rogue and kurt:). I can't feel nostalgic. I just finished the x-men animeted series yesterday but this is so perfect. its just perfection. i love them so much. this Show pays tribute to what the other has done and takes it even further. I can only ask for more episodes, there is nothing else I can ask for(except maybe more gambit and rogue). scott is right. If the x-men were like humans, I think they would start thinking like the old Magneto. The x-men did not think about themselves, they always prioritized others. but in the end they were always hated. I don't understand how they can still do this. How do they hold on, how do they compromise themselves for those who still hate them? Mutants(not the bad ones) deserve great things, but all they get from the world they're trying to save is hatred. and scott is losing his fate in charles vision. he lost his son. his wife was a clone. There's a lot going on for Scott right now. but I hope he can get over this as soon as possible. jean kissed logan! she is confused to she has to remember so that she can be with scott again. and then maybe jean and scott could help eachother get better. i like seeing scott's eyes. scott is right i am not sure jean loves scott anymore. she remembers she loved him but i dont think she feel that way anymore. scott loves madelyn because she was jean and part of her is still jean. idk everything is complicated. it is painful to watch. i just want them all of them to be happy. but there's so much going on right now. I wanted gambit and rogue to be together. They were so beautiful together. But Magneto may be right, I can't be angry with him. But I just wish Rogue and Gambit could be more than friends. too many people are heartbroken rogue, gambit, jean, scott, (me). Did I just see Watcher? after gambit and rogue's talk. i think i did. i wish things were simple. cable is nathan. Why was he there and why did he leave? erik is gone. gambit is dead. they saved rogue. so many mutant died. leech trusted magneto. magneto gave hope to mutants and everything was great, i had hope things were getting better. mutants on genosha were happy. magneto he tried. he tried to save them. he tried to be like Charles. but World just wont let them be this good. he really tried. Would I be too delusional if I hoped that Remy and Erik would return? I need them both back. i cant feel you, this tells everything(reminds me of wanda). I knew it the moment I saw rogue touching gambit. I wish things could have happened differently. i knew I haven't cried this much while reading or watching a story in a long time. This episode really broke me. I'm not in a good mood. The world doesn't deserve X-Men. they never deserved the x-men and will never deserve them. Whatever the x-men do now, they will almost always be right.

ep 6(Lifedeath - Part 2)

lilandra and Charles are good together im happy for them. but i wouldnt mind if they come to earth and save x-men. storm and forge they are cute. but it probably wont last long, i wish it could last. i hope Charles can learn about what erik did. professor xavier, that was smart. yes, storm got her Powers back. Charles is Charles. i love him. his ideals are amazing but they are just ideas. to make them real they suffer they try and they fail over and over again. im glad hes returning to earth but it is too late. and things in spece wont be good when he left. and sinister! sinister killed all those mutants adn remy and erik. i hope he will have a painfull and an awful ending to his story.

ep 7(Bright Eyes)

not a funeral, please he has to come back. hi cap. normally i would say it is nice to see you but right now you're just reminding me how ridiculous mutant hatred is. Yes, there are people who hate superheroes too, but mutant hatred is on another level. And this is ridiculous. rogue is right to be mad. Humans expect mutants to compromise themselves in order to live with them, and they require this. Because humans are afraid of mutants, mutants have to hide their powers and not use them so that people do not feel threatened. Why do mutants follow their rules? because they are good. The "bad ones" don't suppress their power just because people want them to. But when it comes to humans, mutants who live their own nature as they wish are evil. i love kurt and rogues relationship. it feels good to see the X-Men being together and helping each other through all this bad stuff. oppenheimer… now i am become death the destroyers of worlds. trask destroyed all those mutants lifes. i cant say he didnt deserved death but rogue, she let him die. this is not who x-men is, at least WHO they were. she is angry she is grieving she is not in her right mind right now. if she was herself she wouldnt have let him die. i saw the sign for Strak Industries. I wish we could see Tony. In which universe, in which timeline are we right now? Is Tony dead here too? magneto is alive. bastion? i dont know anything about him i guess ill see. scott learned about cable.

ep 8(Tolerance Is Extinction - Part 1)

is madelyne dead? i thought she just get hurt not dead. kurt with swords, I've been waiting for this. Everything is in a very bad state right now, but this visuality and the fights are beautiful. Jean being a mother to cable(seatbelt:) ). wolverine's fight in the skys. yes! summers family. it was so cool. hi peter. but really magneto was right. Charles was just being naive. humans are the wortst. i wish humans and mutants could live together in peace but humans wont let them. mutants deserve better. Charles is back. It wasn't Magneto who started the war. humans wanted this war from the beginning. Mutants and X-Men have been patient, but now it's too much, how much longer should they be patient? It would be really nice if there was peace, but as long as people have this hatred, it seems impossible to make peace. Bastion ignited the war, but whether he started or not, the war would still happen one day. I hope the mutants can win. magneto can win. I think Charles is late. Before the war, they could have tried to implement Charles' ideals, but it was too late. The war has begun and mutants need a leader in the war and that leader must be Magneto.

ep 9(Tolerance Is Extinction - Part 2)

Why is everyone mad at Magneto? I understand humans being angry, it's usual hatred, but why are the x-men so angry? Okay, the order of the world has been disrupted, life has become difficult, the end of the world may even be near, but Magneto saved the mutants. If he had not done this, the mutants would probably have died. I've never been one for villains, I've rarely agreed with them. and this is one of those rare moments. magneto is right. I don't think he is the villain in this story bastion and humans are the bad guys. im glad rogue went with him. charles' ideals are nice to think but its impossible right now. we need magneto. black lether, I completely forgot this scene was coming. x-men are noble they are still trying to do the right thing(according to them). I'm still amazed at how they can endure so much and still try to do good. morph smash:) I wish mutants didn't fight each other. but really i wanted to say shut up to Charles when magneto did. things are bad, really bad. When I started watching '97', I thought I would watch something fun and light. I never thought it would be this dark. Logan should have at least thought once before attacking Magneto with his metal skeleton. He probably won't die, but I think this is an indication that Magneto didn't want to hurt them before. If he wanted to, he would have done this years ago, but he prioritized mutants and didn't want to harm mutants. Now he had to harm the X-Men to save many other mutants. scott confused me, yes the others needed time but why did this happen? Is Jean dead? forge and storm will surive too right?

ep 10(Tolerance Is Extinction - Part 3)

ironman! I wasn't surprised when I saw Ironman with Captain America, but Daredevil caught me off guard. Daredevil is one of my favorite Marvel characters. Is Doctor Strange in surgery?! wakanda! cloak and dagger! this cameos are amazing i hope we can see things like that in live action. I hope mister sinister is gone for good. t'chaka is black panther. Charles destroyed magnus. i hope he can bring him back. bastion is right, humanity would rather die than have kids like mutants. and that why i dont like them. mr. fantastic(morph but still its nice to see him)! humans say we did it. But all they do is bring about the end of the world over and over again. x-men saved the world, magneto saved, mutants saved the world. humans only made it a worse place. wanda and quicksilver off World? where are they? bishop. yes save the x-men. i need season 2 immediatly. x-men scattered through time. They found Nathan. en sabah nur(Apocalypse!!!). At least the series didn't end in a bad place. They defeated Bastion and Sinister. They fell apart, but they're not in a bad situation right now. When is gambit coming back? he has to come back.

this Show is amazing. Characters from MCU and X-Men are in the same universe together. It was very beautiful. I hope we can see more. I can watch so many seasons this way.

[mcflymemes]

MISCELLANEOUS SENTENCE PROMPTS *  collection #2

i got here as fast as i could.

you’ve got a fever. just as i suspected.

there has to be something i can do to help.

i’m all right. nothing life-threatening.

i’m not going to break it!

why don’t you get settled on the couch with a big blanket and i’ll bring you whatever you need?

considering everything you’re dealing with, you’re in line for sainthood at this point.

we should get inside before my nose freezes off.

i couldn’t have done this without you.

maybe we should walk the rest of the way.

thank you for staying.

i don’t have a gun in my bag.

whatever’s on your mind... it matters to me.

don’t think like that.

there’s no one i’d rather explore with.

it was smart of you to come here.

there were other ways to go about that.

things seem to be going well with you two.

you must have eyes on the back of your head.

i’d like you to trust me someday.

do you have any plans tomorrow?

let’s keep it moving!

would you join me?

we’re a couple of losers.

i’m alive and safe for now.

i think you enjoy hurting my feelings.

there are plenty of ways i can help you.

do it right this time!

can’t believe we survived that.

that was illegal! you’re disqualified!

thanks for another lesson.

it’s not polite to snoop.

would you drink with me for a while?

there are plenty of reasons to cry.

we should dance again, for old times’ sake.

what can you tell me about the last time you saw him?

do you believe they’re still alive?

i love you. i love you with everything i am.

it has been far too long since i faced death like that.

not the first time i’ve heard that.

just come inside and we’ll find something else to talk about.

you don’t look awful. who said you looked awful?

i’m craving pad thai.

you’re always good to me.

come inside. we can talk in here.

you make me a better person.

i just need a minute to catch my breath.

didn’t want to pour a glass for myself and leave you hanging.

every time we meet like this, you kick me off the roof.

this is all i’ve ever been good at.

it’s all right if you’re pissed.

there’s something on your face.

i’ve never seen you stare like that.

now you know the truth about me.

do me a favor and don’t walk out.

what on earth did i just walk into?

just give it back and we’ll be good.

i can stand here. i’m not doing anything illegal.

you seem a bit busy.

i just want to go home.

i care about them, too, you know.

let me do what i do best.

i won’t be like the others.

do you feel safe with me out here?

let me explain everything over dinner.

name a place. i’m buying.

try googling what your dreams mean.

i have no words. none.

i should be apologizing to you.

[napoleonxfalon]

@theonxepialos location: Merchant Guild Hall, Eterna notes: meet cute part 2 electric boogaloo

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow through the stained-glass windows of Falon's office, painting the room in a kaleidoscope of colors. The air was filled with the scent of aged parchment, rich mahogany, and the faint, lingering aroma of Falon's cologne. Napoleon paced the length of the office, his loose-fitting crimson tunic, adorned with intricate emerald embroidery, shifted softly with each step. His eyes scanned the shelves lined with books and artifacts, the walls adorned with maps and charts, and the desk strewn with paperwork and correspondence. Falon had needed his signet and, well, Napoleon was in no rush to surrender control so quickly. Even as the changeling hissed from his reflection, Napoleon ignored him - enjoying how worked up his elvhen counterpart could get.

Napoleon paused occasionally, his fingers tracing the spines of old ledgers and cool metals, the strange curios and baubles that Falon collected, and the rough edges of parchment marked with Falon's meticulous handwriting. There was so much order here, not a book out of place, not a piece of decor not where it ought to be. Drab, simple, and academic - Napoleon loathed completely. It was the indelible warning that someday he'd sweep this place but they had a standing agreement. The office was Falon's domain, and the estates were Napoleon's. He wouldn't meddle with that, at least not yet.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Falon in the ornate mirror that hung on the far wall. The changeling's reflection was pacing, mirroring Napoleon's movements, his expression a mix of frustration and impatience. "Napoleon," Falon hissed, his voice a low, insistent whisper. "Switch back, you've had your fun- I'm expecting some-" Napoleon cut him off, "I'm perfectly capable of holding my own meetings." He did enjoy this.

The handle on the door turned and Napoleon looked toward the other, his eyes meeting those of a stranger. The man was tall and lean, his body corded with muscle, his eyes sharp and assessing. There was an air about him that sent a thrill up Napoleon's spine - this was no fat merchant or gout-ridden shipwright, no, he was something else entirely. Where Napoleon could be overtly trusting and naive he did know nobility when he saw it. Wealth was something that the Sinarian could smell and despite his attire, there was a posture and an undeniably regal presence. "Leon." Came Falon's bite once more, the sharp hiss was marked by a nickname that the changeling only pulled out when he really wanted something. He was too late though, he should have tried that a few moments sooner because Napoleon was suddenly intrigued.

"And who might you be?" Napoleon asked, he didn't bother to sit behind the stuffy, imposing desk; instead, he made his way from the shelf of hand-carved trinkets that Falon had made, to stand directly in front of the stranger. Briefly, Napoleon's eyes traveled the length of the stranger's body, taking in every detail, every nuance. "There was no one on the ledger- no name, nothing but a cleared afternoon. Bit unusual for our... Mutual acquaintance." Falon was perpetually busy, and that his schedule was clear was a tell that Napoleon easily recognized.

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Snippet of 5th division Takemichi!

This is just a little drabble, like a snippet on a story that for know I only have notes about but I'll write someday. I just have 2 oneshots and one chapter to finish for starting with the wips that are just pages of notes for now, yuhu!

(promising this to myself)

I read a fic a few months ago with this idea and well, it was hilarious and I started thinking in what type of AU this could work, one trying to also save everyone and go to the plot of the different arcs. Did I say before thatt Tokyo Revengers is my Roman Empire? I wasn't joking. The other wip I have is time-leaper Manila Izana going through tenjiku arc. Fix it fics that, like canon, will be heavy on the angst but with happy ending (yes, me, doing happy endings, I know but did I say it will be heavy on the angst? Because the Izana one... He needs to learn a lot, oopsie)

For understanding the drabble, a few basics:

It's based on an AU where Takemichi jumps to the day when he met Mikey after shaking hands with him in Bonten. And let's pretend our dear Michi actually catched up Sanzu's name and was thinking in something more than Mikey for a second, okay?

Things happened and after saving Draken he asked to be put in the 5th division because reasons (Sanzu, knowing that Mucho is a traitor, knowing that well, he knows a lot about conspiracies that will happen in Toman so maybe this is not such a bad idea even if he's scared of his captain and vice-captain, right?)

A lot of things will happened for get to this point, but after some months of Sanzu knowing about Takemichi being a time-leaper, he finally opens up with the truth about tl0 (yes, he's a little shit and doesn't say anything for months but he has trusting issues, okay? Let him alone xD). Obviously, there will be chapters with Sanzu's POV, for plot reasons (not because I love writting his mental breakdowns, nops).

So... I think that's it. Ah, this conversation is happening in some point of Tenjiku arc, I'm still deciding what to do with this arc, but Takemichi changed enough things. So Mucho goes to Tenjiku alone and now Sanzu is the captain of the 5th division. With Takemichi as a vice-captain, poor crybaby.

Warnings: NONE! I almost don't believe it myself, but this is just comfort. Because it's a small scene that came to my mind and made me smile and I'm having a soft day, so I thought, why not write it?

(he's so pretty and I'm so normal about it, yeps)

At this point, Takemichi already learned a few things about his captain and how to tell the subtle changes on his expressions. He was sure Sanzu hided even more under the mask, but it wasn't that easy to see him without it. So he could see that the other boy was more absent, that his eyes weren't really looking at anything. And Takemichi had a hunch about the reason, he was just trying to find a way to talk about it without getting punch. Or worse, to be honest sometimes he still find the scarred boy a little too unpredictable.

“You know, some days when I wake up, I'm not even sure what time line is it. And I'm always afraid to discover the truth, to discover I fucked up and went back to Manila. Or Bonten.”

Some days, he still feels Mikey's body getting cold on his hands. Or see him getting pale with Emma doing the same. Dead inside in the hospital, the same empty eyes Takemichi saw in that abandoned bowling-alley. But that's an image the other doesn't need, the scarred boy has his own nightmares with Mikey on it. Absolute void in those darks eyes, more than he's able to imagine.

Sanzu gives him a weird look that already feels like a victory, he's looking at him. That's something, right?

“For what you said, I'm sure that Bonten wasn't that bad.” The pinkette snickers. “But, yeah... I get what you mean. It's like anything feels...real.”

The last part is almost like a whisper, like he was afraid of confessing it.

“Exactly.” The blonde smiles brightly, he knows he shouldn't be this easy to read, but he can't really avoid it. “It feels nice to have some one to talk about it that actually understands. With the rest of people that known before, I was always afraid they'll start thinking I was going crazy for saying this type of stuff.”

Aquamarine pair of eyes wide with the last words, like he suddenly understood what his vice-captain was trying to do. What he did, actually.

“I still hate you. Don't start thinking we're friends or some shit like that.”

It sounds almost like a bark, but Takemichi knows better after the last months. So he just laughs, happy with being able to cross another one of his captain walls. He promised to both of them, that he'll save him too.

And he will. Because this time, he'll save everyone. This time, he actually understands what is happening with Mikey.

So he'll save everyones asses, even the ones that don't want to be saved. Specially that ones.

[the-banana-0verlord]

Answer some or all I wanna know more about you 👁️👁️

Do you have freckles? 

 Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it? 

What was the last song you listened to? 

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? 

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? 

Do you prefer drawing or writing? 

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with? 

What’s your favorite band/artist? 

When is your birthday? 

How tall are you? 

What color are your eyes? 

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? 

Fears? 

What’s your favorite color? 

What’s your favorite season? 

Want any tattoos? What of? 

Want any piercings? Where? 

Who is the last person you texted? 

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends? 

What/who do you miss? 

How was your day today? 

How much sleep did you get last night? 

Do you believe in aliens? 

When was the last time you cried? Why? 

What’s your favorite decade? 

What are some seemingly childish things you like? 

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? 

How are you, really? 

Does it take you a long time to make decisions? 

What are you looking forward to in the near future? 

What are you looking forward to in the distant future? 

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? 

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? 

What’s your favorite flower? 

Do you currently have a squish? 

Do you like your middle name? 

Do you prefer dogs or cats? 

Do you have any phobias? 

Do you stay up late?

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? 

What’s your favorite cartoon? 

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs

Do you have siblings? How many? 

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? 

Is there anyone you would die for? 

What do you need when you’re sad? 

Have you memorized your phone number? 

Who’s someone you can trust with your life? 

What does your last text say? 

Wild Card. Any question, ask away. 

Alright, ill try lmao

1.no, i dont have freckles!

2. I WISHED i found Coffee and tea good because its so aesthetic but it tastes bad imo

3. I checked my spotify and its girls just wanna have fun by cyndi lauper so i suppose its that

4.i move a lot but i usually end up on my side.

5. I move too much to sleep with a lot of them because they always end up on the floor. Although i do sleep with my malleus plushie.

6. Thats a hard one, because i do both. Though i think of writing as my primary hobby/eventual job, i definitely have more fun drawing(until art Block comes knocking that is)

7.depends on the thickness. Right now i have three eith two being thin and one being medium, but i could sleep with one really thick one.

8. Mitski!!! I love her so much. Otherwise I like mother mother and marina

9.the third of november!

10. 154 cm or 5 feet. No that is not short

11. Blue-grey-kaki. I like to think of them as blue.

12. All my mutuals, all my irls, my mom, my dad, and my little sister

13. Abandonnent, failure, the future in general.

14. Yellow and light blue!

15.fall! Its so pretty

16. Im not sure yet but i can maybe have someday a small tattoo. Im not a fan of qhoel body tattoos for myself.

17. Well my ears a pierced but im not gonna get more.

18. My two irls! Talking about not getting neuvillette in gneshin ;-;(and murder)

19. I dont have a best friend per se, although i do have a closest friend. Weve been friends for at least three years(already? Damn)

20. Honestly i miss my first mutual on here. I hope they come back soon ;-;

21. It just started but its been pretty good up til now!

22. About 9-10 hours?

23. I mean, there is bound to be other forms of life in space, just thousands of lightyears away.

24. Monday cause my friend said she didnt think we were friends.

25. Id say 1890 to 1900? Though the living conditions were meh i like the aesthetic

26. Generally being silly ig? I suppose i act childihs as a comic relief.

27. Currently my favorite book(s) is the Truly Devious series by Maureen Johnson! It's been clawing it's way into my brain.

28. I'm actually doing quite fine. I'm a bit stressed since i'm going to boston soon but i can push out the bad thoughts!

29. I usually procrastinate decisions as far as possible. If it's a small one maybe like 2 minutes but if it's bigger ones it'll take longer(with the answer being no a lot)

30. Something i'm dreading but also am excited for is summer! Bye school but hello summer job ;-;

31. My irls and i(can i really call them irls? i met only two of them irl and once or twice. anyways-) are planning a roadtrip after we're all 18(aka in a bit more than 4 years)!

32. Either my friend's (irls+ moots) houses or in paris. I've always wanted to see paris.

33.open, my cats need to be free to walk in and out!

34. sunflowers and roses(i have a list on the meaning of each rose color) daisies are also cute.

35. i...guess? i own a banana shaped stress ball(that is very dirty i dont use it much) but idk if it counts as a squish.

36. yes, almost more than my first name. although my first and second name are kinda in the same name. it's like first name-second name.

37.cats!!! I have two(named chicken nugget and nebraska)(my family also owns dogs but oh well)

38. I'm a bit scared of heights but i wouldn't say i have a phobia

39. i usually go to sleep at 10:30 pm on weekdays, and 11:00-11:00 on weekends(when i don't have to wake up early due to sunday class)

40.Although i haven't been to a real beach a lot, i like it! And i always prefer sunny days so sun it is(to experience sunset on a beach... must be the dream)

41. I'd say the owl house! It's so colorful with two of my main kins.

42. @xen-blank @thehollowwriter @quartztwst @boopshoops @saionjeans (so sorry for the tag non-moots! Also i would've included all my moots but it said five ;-;)

43. Yes, i have five siblings! One oldest sister, two older brother, a little brother and the baby of the family, my little sister. i have middle child syndrome.

44. Either my mom or my little sister. I hug and say i love you to them very often. Or i said it to malleus last. One of them.

45. Tbh i have no idea in which circomstances i would die for something. maybe if i could trade my life with someone's close to me. or for peace on earth idk.

46. a big ol hug from my malleus plushie. it's a real emotional support.

47. no i have not. or maybe i did. i will probably forget it soon.

48. my two parents absolutely.

49."I wish to expérience it someday" (speaking of old lady gossip)

50. can i send you the same questions? :3

[srovtl]

(An Introduction to an Exciting Survival) Mitile SR Card Story Translation

Mitile's Great Adventure - Episode 1

Mitile: Hehe. Would nii-sama be surprised if I showed him this map?

Mitile: I found a place I am curious about too, so when I get back I'll tell Riquet about it and show him the map...

Mitile: Wha, what!?

Shino: Oh, it's just you, Mitile. I thought it was a wild boar.

Mitile: Mister Shino! There are wild boars around here?

Shino: Yes. I can sense it nearby. I was thinking of hunting it down and having it for dinner tonight. It would also make a good souvenir for the others at the magic manor.

Mitile: That's amazing. Mister Shino is so brave... You boldly take on even strong monsters.

Shino: I was the forest Guide. So I was also in charge of monster extermination, so this stuff is nothing.

Mitile: Mister Shino, you're so cool!

Shino: Heh, Well yeah. What were you doing? If you're lost, I'll show you around.

Mitile: I'm not lost! I was making a map to guide Riquet and I when we come here someday...

Mitile: ...Huh? Was Mister Heathcliff with you?

Shino: What?

Mitile: Look, I can see Heathcliff's hat in the bushes behind us...

(strong wind)

Mitile: Whoa!

Mitile's Great Adventure - Episode 2

Shino: Mitile, are you okay?

Mitile: Y-Yes. What was that just now? The wind pressure was so strong I nearly got blown away.

Shino: It's a big bird. It was holding Heath's hat in its mouth.

Mitile: …Bird? You're right, a big feather has fallen!

Mitile: (Hmm? This red feather…)

Shino: I'll get it back. I'll search for it from the sky. You go...

Mitile: Mister Shino! I'm pretty sure It's this way. Please follow me!

Shino: ...Mitile?

Mitile: Look, over there! It's on the big rock between the trees!

Shino: ...That's the bird from before. How did you know where it was?

Mitile: I saw it before I met you, the color of its feathers was so pretty that I marked it on the map.

Mitile: Aah! The bird is trying to peck at the hat!

Shino: 《Matztzāh Sudipas》

Mitile: (Amazing, the hat flew over here!)

Shino: Okay, I got it back. I'll get some ingredients for yakitori* while I'm at it. That one is big and looks tasty.

(tl note: grilled bird meat)

Mitile: Wait, Mister Shino, don't take out your scythe!

Shino: ...You don't like yakitori?

Mitile: No, that's not it. Look, look over there. It's hidden in the shade of the branches, so it's hard to see but...

Shino: …Is that,  a nest being built?

Mitile: Yes. I believe that bird just wanted to build a nest.

Mitile: In exchange, I'll show you where to find tasty nuts... Can you let it go please?

Shino: ...Okay. I can trust your map. Thanks in advance.

Mitile: Of course!

Your unique coolness - Card Episode

Akira: Hello, Mitile. What are you reading?

Mitile: Oh, Sage! I was looking at an illustrated book. I wanted to know the name of the bird I saw with Mister Shino on the deserted island.

Akira: Wow, I didn't know there are birds this big!

Mitile:  I was also very surprised when I saw it in the forest! But Mister Shino was so calm...

Mitile: I got curious and asked him why, and he said, "I'm used to it.”

Akira: Used to it?

Mitile: There are all kinds of creatures in the forest apparently. Monsters of course, butI heard that one time he was attacked by bandits while guiding a traveler.

Akira: Bandits?!

Mitile: I was also surprised when I heard this story. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured, but...

Mitile: Mister Shino is so cool, he doesn't panic no matter how bad the situation is! I want to be like that soon.

Akira: Shino is certainly reliable. But I think Mitile is cool too.

Mitile: Eh! Really?

Akira: When we went to the deserted island, you prepared a lot of medicine just in case, right? When Heath got a scratch, you quickly treated it.

Akira: People who are prepared for a pinch are cool. In a way, I feel that they are charming in the "tolerance of an adult." kind of way.

Mitile: Oh, the tolerance of an adult...? I have this kind of charm…!

Mitile: Thank you so much, Sage! I will continue to support you all with my tolerance of an adult!

Homescreen voiceline 

On hot days, I get exhausted quickly, but going for a swim and eating something cold is more fun than usual! I'm sure there are lots of fun things to do during summer vacation in the Sage's world, too.

[motheatenscarf]

played thru 6.55, and a few thoughts;

item number 1, i love Wuk Lamat, i'm so happy with how hrothgals came out and she seems fun and is so cute, look at the dumb cat smile

item 2, i love that she and erenville know each other, but there is no way "erenville" is a name from south america lol. it's fine, i'll take the contrivance, they have a cute dynamic and i really like erenville. please more women and characters with any melanin, ty.

Point the third, i know i just said "please give me more women in the story" and I like Krile fine, but BOLD move to make room for her by having one of the most beloved characters step back.

like, it's good characterization for G'raha to have him volunteer to stay so Krile can go. he NEEDED to go on his adventures with the WoL when he first showed up, but he seems less insecure about that now. which is good, he's a multifaceted character, he is both the quiet dignity of his 300 years of wisdom and also "hehe, catboy fluffye," but he's also the best. and i love him. and i want my fluffye :(

point 4, pictomancy! ... looks cute. definitely not for Talia, that's viper and beastmaster, babey, but i'll probably try it on an alt someday

item the fifth, I'm cautiously optimistic for how they seem to be handling Tural. I'm Mexican, I don't have time to get into it, but I am hopeful in seeing what their take on un-colonized fantasy South America will be.

i'm not touching the discourse until i play the fucking expansion and see for myself. i've already seen people calling it "stormblood 2" which... okay? i didn't like base stormblood either, but we haven't played it yet. and base stormblood had redeeming qualities, and by the patches it was genuinely, unironically good. also it gave me Zenos. He might not be a good character, but what a character. Holy shit.

final thoughts, it looks like Thancred and Urianger are getting a competing offer to champion a different member of the Tural royal family, so that'll be a potentially very fun dynamic/rivalry, i'm excited for that. I trust they'll find a way to get Y'shtola over there too, and Estinien's involvement is shoehorned as always, but I like Estinien, so I don't care

i have 1 last thought, but it will be its own post, so yeah, cautiously optimistic

[spaceship2earth]

I really hope this works.

Hello and welcome to the Official Spaceship 2 Earth blog! This blog is owned and run by the crew that was sent to explore the far ends of the galaxy around a year ago. In a way you can say we’re still doing that. Against our will. With no fuel.

My name is Apollo, and I’m the one who set up and mainly checks over this blog. The other two members are named Orion and Bell, our Captain and Junior Explorer respectively. I’ll let them write their own introductions.

---

Hello!! I am Orion, Captain of many crews, Trusted member of Many Others!! Unfortunately I shall not be a Member of other crews any longer. But!! I love my current crew dearly! (okay, i know i promised Captain i wouldn't edit any of his intro, but c'mon dude. seriously??) As stated by our amazing Junior technician (gee thanks), we are stranded far in the galaxy, too far for any help as most are concerned. But no matter! We are plenty capable of surviving! And appreciate any questions you have for us! Goodbye!!

---

Hi hi hi My name is bell im 12 years old and Im the captains second in command! i dont know as much as the captain or pauly but im always learning!! im very useful and i love exploring alot and i hope to be a professional explorer someday!! Things i like reading the mail we have and i also like eating though that makes me sick Things i dont like coldness apollo being negative and the captain he smells bad sometimes thank you for reading!!! 

(Hey, Apollo again, I apologize for her horrific grammar. She insisted on writing that herself instead of letting me do it for her, Hope her writing doesn’t give too much of a headache.)

---

I guess that's it for all of the introductions, No one's probably gonna see this But that wouldn't be surprising, If by some miracle this works send us your questions or whatever, It'd be a good time waster for me, and I suppose them too.

WRITTEN: APOLLO. -- SIGNING OFF.....

---

(OOC blog info and rules below cut.)

Hello everyone! Welcome to our New original Roleplay sci-fi blog, Our world center's around a Group of 3 explorers Lost in the vast endless reaches of space, With no fuel and no way to get home. (Heavy content warnings for dark subject matter)

As the Roleplay title suggests we will be posting and answering your Asks in character whatever they may be, go nuts!

This is an explicitly Proship friendly space so any arguing or unprompted hate will be ignored/deleted.

This blog is run by two people and Mods currently--Those being Mod Monnie [they/it] and AnonStarby. (AnonStarby will run the blog fully whenever Monnie is not available)

(Also to clarify Monnie Ships Apollo and bell together so BLAME THEM NOT ME /J) (seriously though if that triggers or upsets you block this blog)

Important tags to know--

Approved mail -- For asks

Transmissions -- for original posts

OOC -- For posts not in universe made by our mods

OOC asks -- self explanatory

Thanks for reading everyone!

Spaceship to earth created by Monnie.

[clairelsonao3]

Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thank you to @winterandwords for tagging me in this one! I love Q&As, I don't care what the questions are!

1. What motivates you to write?

The pursuit of fame and fortune.

Just kidding. No, in all honesty, there was a time when I was obsessed with writing for the market. I still want to make money with my fiction someday, I'm not gonna lie. But actually, it's always been about telling stories that I know no one else will tell and that need to be told. If I'm that invested in a story, nothing will stop me from finishing it.

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

This is the last section of the opening chapter of The Adored. And it's going to get changed, so don't get too attached. But the gist of it has stayed through all drafts:

CW: Mention of teen females (consensually?) groping a teen male:

Hell, before this year, he’d never left the state of Minnesota. He and Afton didn’t eat pie on a boat on their first date, either. They didn’t even have a first date. But he’s let the world believe it, along with a million other lies that look pretty under pastel filters and amazing in 200 characters or less. Lies that dance center stage, that come alive under the lights. The lies are Afton’s truth. Thayer’s truth. Social media’s truth.

But they aren’t ours. Micah's and my truth is different. It’s underground, rotting in basements and prison cells, and all the dark places he still prays never to have to go back to. It’s about the night I saw Afton with a man in a dark Jaguar that turns Micah pale when he sees it, about the chains that still choke his heart and soul. It’s the jagged puzzle whose pieces he relied on me to put together, then told me never to reveal — the whats, but not the whys.

It’s why we’re really quitting.

But there’s one last truth. It’s what he’s trusting me to find. Me, the gawky giraffe in borrowed Balenciaga, with a bass she can barely play. The blurry face in the background. The tacked-on name at the bottom of the story. Bandmate Isley Nash.

I want to ask him, why me?

But before I can, it’s over. He throws himself backward off the stage. His body arches through space like a supernova. This is the moment they’ve been waiting for. They caress him, groping his hair, his legs, his junk. His eyes close. He’s lost. He’s theirs. For them, there’s only tonight.

And unless I find that truth, tonight is all there will ever be. 

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Micah (see above) is a reluctant teen rock star, a defiant rebel, a deadpan snarker, a (probable) murder victim, and my OG sad boi, so I'm always going to go with him.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Editing. Drafting is trying to make something out of nothing, which is torture. Editing, meanwhile, is sculpting something you create (which is almost always terrible to start off with) into something good, which is fun and fulfilling. I will vomit unreadable, ungrammatical crap onto the page just so there's something there to edit when I go back. For me, that's where 99% of the real work of writing gets done.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Dialogue! I think my dialogue is often funny and entertaining. Can I say that? I'm saying that.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Getting tagged to fill out Q&As like this and ramble about myself ad nauseum! No, seriously, the community I've found on Tumblr has amazingly changed my life in the best way -- and I've really only been here a few months! Here, I've found talented writers, engaged readers, and all-around wonderful human beings, who do not only NOT judge me for my bizarre tastes, but in many cases actually share them. Finding a community like that is rare enough in the internet hellscape where we often find ourselves, let alone IRL, and I will be grateful for it always.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

I've reluctantly come around to Grammarly, even though I snobbishly thought I didn't need it. Oh, and chatGPT. No, I'm kidding. I have tried it out, though. (Haven't we all?)

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

CW for discussing slavery in a clinical, dispassionate way (IDK, might be a trigger for some).

I've long thought you can't really understand or write about slavery without understanding the basic economics behind it, whether historically or in a fictional context. In most fiction with institutionalized slavery, it's either completely controlled by a dystopian government or by one single, massive company. To me, neither seemed realistic, and I think this is where this world differs from other related ones. In the world of GSNBTR, slavery is like any other sector under capitalism: it's multiple businesses of various sizes and with different niches competing against each other for customers, while being regulated (relatively lightly) by the government (as lobbied for by special interests, of course). And that also means thinking hard about the kinds of roles slaves would be likely to fill in a modern society built on that system, where they come from (likely many different places), who would own, trade, and manage them (whether government, corporations, or individuals) and how they would be likely to be used -- ie., it's not just domestic servants and sex workers, in fact, those are likely the minority of slaves. The majority are fast-food workers, landscapers, cleaners, dishwashers, farmworkers, general laborers, etc. etc. I suspect some are also used in the entertainment industry in some capacity (i.e. some actors/musicians/athletes are literally owned by movie studies/record companies/sports leagues), but I haven't really puzzled this out in detail. This stuff isn't necessarily fun to think about, but it's a must in a story like this, and I definitely did spend a lot of time thinking about it.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Are you writing what you really want to write? Always write what you want, not what you think you should. And if you can't write just for yourself, write for just one person. The rest of your audience will come naturally.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

I have to of course start with the talented writers whose work was so amazing it drew me in and got me to stay: @little-peril-stories @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

And then, to my astonishment, they reached out to support me and my own work, at times in ways far beyond anything I ever could have imagined. 💕

And then! On various levels, I've been lucky enough to know and interact with @i-can-even-burn-salad @whither-wander-whump @rickie-the-storyteller @mysticstarlightduck @painful-pooch @tabswrites @burntcoffeewhump, and @winterandwords!

And there are so many more great folks that I'm only just starting to discover, such as the following I'll gently tag (as well as OPEN TAG for anyone I mentioned above -- since you're already here, after all -- and anyone else reading this! 😂)

@romanceandshenanigans @digital-chance