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solar-wing · 11 months

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⚣ Magical Lessons in Ass-Whooping ☀️

⚣☀️ A/N → If you remember, this was like a snippet out of a story I was going to write for Conner x an original character. Haven't decided if I'm going to continue it, but I definitely want to write my scenarios and shots like this. Hope you guys enjoy it for those reading the first time and even those reading a second! WARNINGS: Canon-Typical Violence, Tension, Implied homewrecking

⚣☀️ Summary → Considering you've spent your entire life learning and studying magic from the moment you could utter your first words, it'd make sense for you to eventually start teaching and helping others. Especially those who are currently providing you refuge as things back home are a bit dangerous. But, one of them is going to learn that our knowledge is not just limited to thaumaturgy and the arcane. 'Talk shit, get hit' is a global phenomenon.

⚣☀️ Words → 2.8k

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY ☀️

“And just make sure to control your breathing…you got it!” You cheered.

A bright glimmer enveloped the room as little wisps of light started appearing around the room, forming tiny butterflies. You’d been helping Zatanna train and master her magic while also teaching her some new tricks.

You hailed from a hidden kingdom, created from a divine gift bestowed on to your ancestor from the powerful deity linked to the sun. This power continued to pass on to their descendants, every eldest child in your bloodline blessed with the power of our solar system’s star, making you and your ancestors some of the most powerful beings to live in existence.

It was a heavy responsibility, bearing the mantle of the ‘Child of the Sun,’ being able to control such a potent and raw energy inside you. From the moment you were old enough to even say your first words, you’d been in magical training and studies to ensure your mastery of your powers. You could blast bad guys and restore an entire city with your magic by the time you were five years old.

And now, you were teaching others!

“Oh my god, I actually got it! Thanks, Y/N.” Zatanna cheered, wrapping you around in a hug.

You returned it joyfully before separating, “It’s as I mentioned previously, magic is special to us all. It lives all around and inside us. Everybody has their own individual sense of magic. Some just know and are better at channeling it than others.” You explained.

“Oh, I get it! Like a magical DNA print,” M’Gann summarized. She and Artemis were standing to the side watching the lesson you were giving Zatanna, both wanting to learn more about the mystic arts.

You smiled at the Martian’s words, nodding your head, “Exactly! Magic forms differently in everyone and changes itself as we grow and change ourselves. That’s why it’s important to find your source and learn how to connect it with a strong emotional foundation, and boom… You’ve got magic.”

Your hands glowed as you raised them to the air, a bright spot at the top of the cave forming that shined like the sun before bursting, releasing dancing rays of light swept across the room along with the little wisps of butterflies.

“So, what’s your source? If you don’t mind me asking,” Artemis inquired as the magic dissipated.

“Not at all,” You replied with a smile, “Well, obviously, being the whole ‘Child of the Sun’ thing, my source centers around that, the Sun and its solar energy.” You waved one of your hands, a light trail tailing behind as you summoned a bright illusion of your solar system’s central star.

The girls had to cover their eyes a little bit since even as a magical illusion, it still hurt their eyes. It felt so real, it was almost as if it was generating its own heat as well, warming the air around them.

“Ooh, like Superman?” M’Gann asked.

“Close, but not exactly. My source is the sun, so my magic manifests and channels itself as pure light granting me the enhancements and abilities that come with being, well, ‘light.’ Superman relies more on the radiation from its solar energy, another ability I may possess,” You answered.

Your new friends paused at that, “Wait, huh? What do you mean?” Artemis asked.

You considered for a moment if you should share this information as it was technically confidential and only privy to those of the royal family and their most trusted attendants. You figured there couldn’t be any harm in sharing this bit of information as it wasn’t like it could spell the end of the world or anything.

“A group of royal scholars and sorcerers have dedicated themselves to studying the magic and power behind the Children of the Sun since my great-grandfather’s reign. They’ve studied its different forms and how it’s moved down my family’s line over generations, noting its different strengths and weaknesses. They’ve also cataloged the different abilities it creates over time,” You explained, the teammates hanging off your every word.

“One of the scholars recently made a discovery that linked solar radiation with one of the spells I learned as a kid that can create daylight at night. When they discovered this connection, they explored more on the topic, finding that many of my spells and powers also give off their own form of radiation similar to the sun’s solar radiation. It’s led them to theorize that my ancestors and I may possibly have the ability to utilize the sun’s radiation to our advantage.”

“Wait, you’re saying you can manipulate solar radiation?! Does that mean you could take down Superman if you wanted to?” Zatanna asked.

You smiled at their surprised faces, “I’m not sure since it’s a new theory and will take time to study. Plus, I’ve never actually tried before. Hopefully, I never have to. At least with that kind of scenario,” You responded.

“Never have to what?”

You and the girls turned around to see the other guys coming down the hall, assumingly having entered the base from the ‘front door’ as M’Gann likes to call it. Conner looked at the girls and you with his arms crossed, his usual deadpan expression sitting on his face as he waited for an answer.

“Where did you guys go?” Zatanna asked, ignoring his question as Dick, Wally, and Kaldur made their way to the center of the training floor, Conner standing a little further back.

“We had a little team outing with just us guys. Hope you ladies weren’t too bored without us.” Wally smirked.

“We weren’t, as a matter of fact. We had Y/N here to keep us company since you all apparently didn’t want to include him on your little guy’s trip,” Artemis replied with her own smug smile.

“Oh really, what did you do? Sit around and do rain dances to call on the Lords of Make-Believe?”

“Wally,” Kaldur scolded.

“What?” He questioned, seeing how everyone was giving him unimpressed looks, “You all know I still don’t buy into this magical woo-hah babble. I’m a man of science who believes at the end of everything, there’s always a logical explanation.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh really,” Your face growing a mischievous smile. “So, can you explain how we’re all fully clothed and you’re standing in your underwear right now?” Everyone missed the slight glow in your irises as you cast your magic in your head.

Wally looked confused before he looked down and realized he was standing only in his underwear, his clothes vanished into thin air with his heart and rainbow-colored boxers on display for everyone.

“What the- Y/N!” He shouted before running off, his face burning red as a tomato while your friends laughed.

Artemis had her hands to her stomach before wiping away a fake tear, “Oh, that was more entertaining than anything I’ve seen in my life. Thank you for that, Y/N,” She grinned.

You gave a mock salute with two fingers while everyone was still laughing when Wally came back, now dressed in a new outfit. Everyone except Conner, who held a glare on his face that you could tell was in your direction. For whatever reason, you didn’t know and chose not to care.

“Why didn’t you invite Y/N on your outing if it was just for guys?” M’Gann asked.

“Because it was a team outing, and despite rumors to the contrary, Y/N is not on the team,” Conner voiced with an indifferent tone.

Your friends all frowned at Conner, not appreciating his sudden attitude toward you. Even Wally looked surprised by his little outburst while Zatanna spoke up in your defense.

“Well, that seems stupid. I wasn’t on the team yet when M’Gann invited me to your school’s Halloween dance. Why should Y/N be any different?” She remarked, crossing her arms. M’Gann nodded in support, her face signaling her disapproval of her boyfriend’s actions.

“We didn’t really think about that. It was more of a decision on the spot when Wally expressed his desire for a bite to eat,” Kaldur explained, with a genuine tone of regret in his posture before turning to face your direction, bowing his head. “My apologies, your Royal Highness. We meant no offense.”

“Speak for yourself,” You heard Conner mutter under his breath.

You ignored it, focusing back on your friend. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Kal. I had fun training here with the girls anyway. And I told you, it’s just Y/N. I’m not the Prince of Amun here, just a regular guy who happens to be bunking with you.” You said. Kaldur smiled in return, appreciating your forgiveness.

“Yeah, a regular guy who needs attendants waiting on him and personal guards always watching his behind,” You heard another snide comment from Conner, who was looking at the two guards standing by the opening to one of the hallways leading into the cave. Your patience also vanished into thin air by this point.

“Conner, that’s enough!” Kaldur ordered, but you were fed up.

“Is there something you need to get off your chest? You’ve been acting pissy with me since I got here, and I’ve had just about enough of it,” You snapped at the Kryptonian.

“Oh, the oh-so-regal prince actually has a backbone? Please…” Conner said, deeming you not worth his time.

“Yeah, the oh-so-regal has a backbone and will happily whoop your ass with it,” You called out after him.

The room went quiet, M’Gann now looking worried as Conner turned around to face you, a jeering expression now on his face.

“Oh really? You’ll ‘whoop my ass,’ huh? Tell me how exactly you plan to do that. With a little song and dance? A show of special effects and illusions. Or will you use your little guards in their shiny armor to fight for you? I could take them and you down without lifting my pinky toe.” He teased, slowly walking towards you until he was standing in your personal space, his arms crossed against his wide chest.

You didn’t have to turn around and see how Atlas and Samar, your two guards in mention, were standing at attention, more than ready to disprove Superboy’s insults. You raised your hands silently, signaling them to stand down. You could take care of yourself.

“Hmm, you may be right about that,” You replied calmly. Everyone except Atlas and Samar looked taken aback at your words. Conner still held a cheeky smirk, even though you could spot his somewhat quizzical look behind his eyes. “So, I’m sure you stand ready to prove it then.”

“Ooooo…” Artemis said, ever the instigator.

“Someone’s getting called out! Whatcha gonna do?” Wally shouted, joining in with the archer.

Though he appeared unphased by your friend's teasing, he considered your words, “Fine, you’re on.” He answered.

A devious smile appeared across your lips, your guards looking at you with knowing grins. Everyone cleared off the combat circle as Kaldur loaded up the sparring protocols. You and Conner stood on opposite sides of the training floor, waiting for Kal’s signal.

“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” You heard Dick ask on the side.

“Nope.” Zatanna said.

The floor brightened beneath you as Kaldur started the program, signaling it was ready.

“Who are you betting on?” Wally asked.

“Oh, Y/N 100%,” Artemis replied.

“I’ll bet you $20 bucks Conner beats Y/N in 15 seconds flat.”

“Hmm, $40 bucks says Y/N knocks out Conner in 10.”

“Deal.” Wally agreed, shaking on it.

M’Gann stood next to Kaldur, watching her boyfriend with a chagrined look. She wasn’t happy with his behavior, becoming suspicious since the team’s mission to Liza during your kingdom’s anniversary celebration and your birthday, leading to your temporary move to Happy Harbor in the Cave after rebels made an attempt on your life.

“Hope I don’t end up as the focus of your next album after this. Though, it’d be nice to say someone’s writing songs about me, even if it’s angry ones.” Conner mocked.

“Oooh, good one Con!” Wally cheered, Artemis rolling her eyes with a scoff.

You didn’t respond, letting him have his fun. You were about to make him eat his words anyway.

“Begin,” Kal said.

You stood in your spot, waiting for Conner to make his move. He cracked his knuckles before charging at you with his usual loud grunt. You side-stepped his attack, leaning and turning on your back foot while swinging your other foot around into his back, sending him flying only to land on his face. Even though he landed outside the battle ring, an interface popped up that spelled his name, and next to it, read the word ‘FAILED’ in red.

“HAH! That’ll be $40 bucks, please.”

You heard Zatanna and Dick clapping behind you while Kal just gave you a nod of approval.

“Looks like you lifted more than your pinky toe. I’m sure you can do better than that tough guy,” You taunted, hearing Atlas and Samar snickering on the side.

Conner pushed himself off the ground, grumbling in frustration before turning around. He huffed in anger before his grimace turned into another smug grin, “Cute. They teach you that in etiquette class?” He mocked.

You returned your own playful smile, “No, actually, Atlas taught me that during one of our combat lessons. You could learn a thing or two from him. Your form is terrible,” You remarked.

You heard the others laughing behind you, Conner’s face going red before he brushed past you, bumping your shoulders, “Let’s go again.” He stated.

“If you insist.”

When Kal signaled to go again, you chose now to charge at Conner, faking him out when he swung at your left. You ducked under his fist, bringing your body down before sticking your leg out to swipe him from under. He fell back against the ground with a grunt, the interface popping up again next to his face announcing his quick failure.

“Samar taught me that one. Hmm, are you sure you’re good at this? Quite frankly, I was expecting more.” You said while standing over him, hands held at your side.

You reset again for a third round. You amused yourself, allowing Conner to believe he was holding out for a bit before you ducked under his fist again, standing back up behind him, pushing your hands on his back to shove him forward.

He almost lost his balance but managed to stay up.

He turned around to see you waving your fingers at him in a teasing manner. He charged at you again while swinging his arms together to trap you in a bear hug. When he got his arms around you, your body broke apart like shattered glass, dissipating into the air.

Conner looked confused until he heard you ‘Yoo-hoo’ behind him, turning to see you launching at him with another kick across the face. He fell to the ground, the interface once again signaling his defeat.

He growled in anger before he looked up to see you standing over him again, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you get a hit in.”

He huffed before grabbing your ankle, yanking it out from under you, making you fall on your butt. The interface popped up next to you with your name now signaling the word ‘FAILED.’

“How was that?” His cheeky smile returned.

“Cute. They teach you that in anger management?”

Conner looked confused, “I don’t go to anger management.”

“Clearly.” You responded.

The others expected Conner to blow up at you (the boy did need anger management), but to everyone’s shock, he just smiled at you. Before standing up and reaching his hand down to help you up.

You stared at his hand for a moment before taking it, letting him pull you up to the ground.

You both stared at each other for a bit with no words said until you heard a throat clearing beside you, realizing the team was still here. Artemis smiled knowingly at you while Dick, & Zatanna looked uneasy. Kal scratched the back of his head awkwardly while Wally looked confused. M’Gann held a sullen expression on her face, clearly not happy.

You felt heat come up your face before clearing your throat, “I’m gonna head to the beach to do some meditation. See you guys later.” You said before turning away, your body vanishing in a flash of light. Conner looked confused when he saw you disappear, not understanding what happened. He saw Atlas and Samar shaking their heads at him before heading down the hall towards the garage exit to catch up with you. Still not getting what happened, he turned to see his friends giving him sour looks causing him to frown in return.

“What!”

☀️ | Conner Kent/Superboy | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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reasonsforhope · 1 year

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Is it true some parts will be under water in 2025? I'm kinda of worried cause someone told me about it bc it was on the news

Eh, not really. Like, technically, but that's a very dramatic way to put it.

What that person told you about was probably this prediction, which says that some roads on some of the Florida Keys might be underwater by 2025.

Does that suck? Yes. But it's also pretty limited in scope.

(And by the way, that's probably not "underwater all the time." There will probably be a number of years of "the roads will be underwater at high tide specifically." I can't currently find a source on this, but that's how tides work, and the Florida Keys article does specifically mention them as a main problem.)

The areas in danger first are pretty universally small, very low islands. Actually, a dozen or so small islands have already gone underwater in the Pacific Ocean, but very importantly, none of those islands were inhabited.

They were mostly small reef islands (that is, the entire island is exposed coral reef detritus) and other uninhabited shoals. Mostly, they were so small scientists had to check old satellite images to even figure out that they disappeared. Literally, we're talking about chunks of land that are just 100 square meters/300 square feet. Again, not great, but still very limited in scope.

As this Live Science article thankfully explains, it's pretty unlikely that any countries at all will disappear before 2100.

Also, just because land is below sea level doesn't mean it will be underwater, and there are very real steps we can take to defend a lot of endangered cities/islands.

For example:

Much of the Netherlands is already below sea level, but the country isn't disappearing, because the Dutch have put a lot of work into building and maintaining coastal defenses.

Multiple surveys (including the one that found the missing islands in Micronesia) also found that not all low-lying islands are vulnerable to erosion and flooding. This is because many islands are protected by mangrove forests, lagoons, or both

Mangrove reforestation in particular is genuinely a super effective anti-flooding strategy that is being deployed pretty widely, and is expected to increase a lot in the coming years. Mangroves are effective at not only preventing short-term flooding, but also mitigating sea-level increases (in part by preventing erosion)

Some islands, esp Pacific Islands, have actually grown during the past couple decades, not shrunk. It really depends on what the island is made up of. Not all land is automatically doomed

You can read more about how sinking countries are fighting back here, and the lessons we can learn from them:

-via Time, June 13, 2019

And finally, and this is good news for reasons I'll explain in a second:

Some of the largest and wealthiest cities in the world are at the top of the danger list. (Note: the predictions at that link are based on some fairly severe warming predictions. They do NOT necessarily reflect what's going to happen or when.)

The cities that are going to be in danger the soonest (still away btw) include New York, London, San Francisco, Tokyo, and Dubai. Lots of very rich people in those cities! Who would really like to not have to move (any of their ten different homes lol)

So, flooding aside, we're going to (by necessity) get a lot better at figuring out the quickest, cheapest, most scalable, and most effective types of coastal defenses real fast.

Are rich countries going to be way more able to get strong coastal defense systems up quickly? Yes. Does that suck? Sure fucking does!! But these solutions don't all require a lot of money or tech to implement, even at a large scale, especially when it's local communities driving the effort.

And, importantly, when rich countries pour a ton of money into figuring this out, that will hugely expand our understanding of what techniques work best, why, and how best to deploy them in different situations. Unlike physical structures, that's valuable knowledge that can be shared very, very widely.

And any technology that comes out of this is going to work like solar panels and other green energy: as more people use it, it will get cheaper and cheaper. Probably really quickly.

So, all told, no one's going to be swallowed up in the next few years. We have time to work on this and a lot of people are already doing so.

Mostly, experts predict that the first wave of large-scale issues will be happening around 2050.

Three decades doesn't sound like enough time, in the face of something like this. But you know what? Responses to climate change are speeding up exponentially, and different types of responses are multiplying and magnifying each other.

We went from inventing flight to landing on the moon in just 66 years.

I wouldn't count us out of the climate change fight yet.

(...I wouldn't count on retiring to Florida either, though)

#Anonymous #sea level rise #ocean #micronesia #pacific islander #mangrove #flood #flood mitigation #ask #me #hope #it does suck but I also really do think there is hope #this post was supposed to be like 2-3 paragraphs how did it turn into an entire essay #I have too many words disease #too much nuance #hope yall appreciate the extra context lol

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greenboyfriend · 10 months

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choose a... thing! (tarot card reading)

image source "what do you need to know?" spaghetti monster: what is that, pipe cleaner? affixed to some... nuts? hey, don't take that the wrong way. ploom the caterpillar: i don't even have the words to describe this thing. desert rain frog: ">:(" book a reading through dm/ask!

spaghetti monster・。.・゜✭

it's time to stop dwelling on the past! yes, you've probably experienced some sort of heartache, whether that be through betrayal, loneliness, or a bit of both. rest assured, in letting go, you will be off to bigger, and much better things. one of your cards is specific to this deck: the future. this emphasizes that now is THE time to move on! leave what has been hurting you behind-- it's leaving whether you want it to or not. this is a major point in your life, as signified by death and amplified by the future, which can (and will!) heed significant results. the hierophant tells you that the answers you seek will be found through joining with others, most likely an organization of some kind. you must be part of the group, working and striving with others to make the change you seek. heartache doesn't last forever, but what you're about to do with this group will. it's a long road, but at the end of it is happiness, fortune, and abundance abound!!! hey, this is a lot more cheerful than the last one! yahoo!

(the future [from the transient light tarot], 10 of pentacles reversed, the hierophant, 3 of swords reversed, death reversed)

ploom the caterpillar・。.・゜✭

another spread about letting go!!! except this one feels more pertinent. well, let's be real, the last one was pretty dire, too... anyway. my little caterpillars, your cards are less about the past or future, and more about the present. in fact, only about the present! the 10 of wands shows that you've been shouldering too much on your back, likely relating to self consciousness, some sort of inability to say "no", and/or difficulty especially in regards to living in the moment. but here's the thing... you've gotta. the hanged man puts it clearly: in order to get what you want, this situation requires you completely let go of whatever it is you've been holding onto. whether that's how you're being perceived or otherwise, it must be shed. the hanged man is upside down, able to see the world from a completely different perspective. try to change how you see things. live in the present moment and see what you notice; what changes when you give your entire attention to what someone is saying? or the thing you're doing? is everything really as you thought it was after seeing it from this new perspective? however you need to enact this change, the time to strike is right fucking now, baby. the engines are revving and ready to GO!!! don't be scared, what happens next is destiny. o_<~✭

(8 of wands, the hanged man, 10 of wands, the present reversed [from the transient light tarot.])

desert rain frog・。.・゜✭

like those who picked pile 2, the time for movement is NOW, my little froggies! you must declare yourself openly!! you are blessed to have a good head on your shoulders, being intelligent and good at handling authority. however! moving forwards, you will need to learn how to temper this energy (knight of swords). sometimes, this can go too far, where unadulterated words can hurt someone, coming across as blunt. it's true that you do know a lot about the world, but you need to let there be space for others' observations and knowledge. you can't possibly know everything! after making this big declaration, or finding this missing piece of the puzzle, you will get to the heart of the matter, to sift between what is true, what is fake, and to learn what to say-- versus what to definitely not say. a useful asset later on will be using the energy of the queen of cups, which means you must react to others through compassion and kindness, and try to be in tune with their emotional undercurrents. easier said than done, right? however, with the use of your intuition and logic combined, it will be much easier to wade through this future situation. in the meantime, i'd use that talkative knight of swords energy to propel yourself towards... whatever it is you need to propel yourself towards. here's a tip, whenever i feel a lightness in my chest, i know the answer's yes, but a pit in my stomach, be expected to plummet!!!... or, um, "no" would be the answer for that one. good luck! im also getting that some (3?) of you have some sort of.. "telepathic bond." no idea what that means! good luck with that, too, though.

(8 of wands, knight of swords, ace of swords reversed, queen of cups reversed)

#tarot #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #pac #pick a photo #intuition #spiritual #spirituality

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glitterguts13 · 5 months

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Do you have any favourite of hcs (any kind) of aventurine?

Oh, I have so much to say about Aventurine it's not even funny, so here comes a jumbled mix of thoughts.

TW: topics of slavery, self-harm, sexual abuse, and suicidal ideation. Please read with caution!

Aventurine struggles with genuine physical and emotional intimacy. Having been used, abused, and tortured all this life, mentally, sexually, and physically, he's grown to learn that people are to be kept at arm's length the whole time.

Because of this, Aventurine became very hyper-sexual to deal with the trauma. To him, if he starts it and stays in control, he can't be hurt. This isn't true at all, but it's the only way he knows how to handle people who start getting touchy with him because saying 'no' never worked in the past.

If someone does manage to break down his walls and form a genuine emotional bond with him...he really doesn't know what to do. He showers his partners with gifts and money, is extremely sex driven, and doesn't have any consideration for his own well-being. He's so worried about losing them, that he gives too much.

Aventurine doesn't know how to ask for things he wants. In the sense, he doesn't know how to say "Please, just hold my hand." or "Will you brush my hair?" These simple little acts of love that he desperately craves, but can't ask for because he's worried he's being needy.

For fucks sake just hold this man and remind him that his worth isn't tied to his wealth or his body.

The hand that trembles, hold it tightly and press it to your lips. He'll fall to pieces.

Aventurine is torn between desperately wanting a family and being terrified of having one. He wants a partner, children, and a home to come back to that's filled with love, warmth, and laughter...but he knows how quickly he could lose it, and just how big a target is painted on his back. It keeps him up at night, debating back and forth on if he should pursue his desire or leave it to rot like the rest of his dreams.

Topaz is the closest thing to a 'friend' he has inside of the IPC. While they're hardly besties, she's at least someone he can relax around and share a few drinks with. She's not given him any reason to distrust her, but I don't think he would ever fully rely on her either.

Has played his fair share of Russian Roulette, and leaves disappointed each time he wins.

Also, are we all just going to ignore that little tidbit where they mention he was strapped to an electric chair?? I can't even begin to imagine how that fucked him up both mentally and physically.

That being said, Aventurine has a lot of self-harm and pain-seeking tendencies. I won't go into details, but when he gets low, his mind begins to spiral and he has to find something to snap him out of it or else it just gets worse and worse until he's ready to make sure that gun is fully loaded.

He's grown better about it over the years, but he will never fully be able to heal and recover. Especially not as long as he's in the hands of the IPC. Ratio is the only one who catches wind of Aventurine's self-harming tendencies, but he doesn't have a clue on how to help him, so he keeps quiet.

The brand on his neck is a source of contention. He has the money to have it removed and covered up. He hates to see it, but in the same breath, he's almost afraid to lose it. If he does, will he lose sight of his past? Where he came from? He isn't ashamed of his past, but he also doesn't like the very clear reminder of it either. Jade makes passion comments on it often, and it makes his stomach twist everytime.

Donates obscene amounts of money to children in need. He will never let a child suffer, and while he clearly can't dismantle the entire fucked up system set in place, he's bought the contracts of many child slaves and freed them anonymously. He wants to save them all, but it just isn't possible, and it's one more thing that keeps him awake at night.

#hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine #i am sick about this man #he hurts my heart so deeply

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kutputli · 1 month

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I got an anon ask that makes me think I should clarify a few things:

First of all, not everything I reblog from a fandom is an uncritical endorsement of it. Meta especially, I sometimes reblog just to be able to find it again, since I'm percolating my own thoughts. I'm not going to specify every single time exactly what I agree with and disagree with either, because I don't always want to start up a discussion with the OP.

Second, I don't go through someone's entire blog to get a sense of their worldview before I reblog something. I am definitely not going to consider my reblog of someone's particular post to be an endorsement of their entire take of fandom or politics or life at large.

Third, I generally prefer to disengage from fans whose opinions I find objectionable. I prefer to not get into arguments, unless I am having a discussion with someone who I think is worth investing my time and energy in.

Fourth, I care a lot about racism in both source media and internet fandom (along with casteism, sexism, colonialism and other structures of oppression). But I also care a lot about finding people who share my values and engaging fannishly with them, rather than specifically addressing individual people I disagree with.

The last fandom I invested deeply in was Ted Lasso, and there I found myself blocked by professional journalists when I called out the racism written into their professional reviews. I saw my posts being ignored by white fans who chose to reblog other white people's takes on racism. I am very aware of how white fandoms operate, and because I want to continue to derive some pleasure in fandom, I am conciously choosing to interact very selectively with white fans.

Interview with the Vampire is my current fandom and I am very invested in talking about the racial dynamics of the show. I have a lot of criticism for the creators. I also am very aware of some of the racist dynamics present in the fandom, but I am not interested in picking fights with anyone. I also don't want to be used as a cats paw.

And finally, I respect the diversity of world view within fans of colour. Everyone has their own lines in the sand regarding what media they consider ok to engage with, and what fannish takes they can get along with. I couldn't get into the OFMD fandom after I watched the show because slave-owning leads is a hard line for me. It isn't for other fans, including some Black fans, and that's fine. Some Indian fans enjoy Sanjay Leela Bhansali's movies. I find them appallingly regressive Hindutva lite. I read and kudos all kinds of fucked up kinky fic that many people find morally repugnant and I have some friends who write it and some who judge it. I love and support a healthy ecosystem of media criticism. But I am not going to spend my energy critiquing the choices that fans make.

All of which is to say, I may disappoint you if you expect my blog to set some kind of standard in fannish content. I'm open to being questioned, and to being corrected. But I also am here to play.

#my meta #fannish racism

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aimfor-theheart · 1 year

Text

Act II

|| kaeya alberich x afab!reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort/fluff || wc: 37k || ao3 || masterlist || Act III -> coming soon! ||

When you, a beloved artist and performer of Mondstadt, attract the attention of the Fatui, there is only one person you seek out for help; the infamous Cavalry Captain of the Ordo Favonius, Mondstadt's beloved bastard.

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only

❀ give me a world masterlist ❀

❀ for you are the world (as i am in pieces) - @lorelune ❀

a/n: hello! i am two days late, but here is the second act!! instead of splitting into multiple parts/posts, i just linked the ao3 at the bottom to continue reading! 37k is actually insane of me. i struggled a great deal with this act and it was the source of a lot of frustration but...i am ultimately happy with how it turned out <33 big shout out to my buddies @lorelune who helped me a lot and beta-ed parts, as well as @suguwu who beta-ed and gave me some great feedback on this act, and finally, @acerathia for beta-ing and giving me feedback as well! i am very appreciative of all your help! also please go check out lore's lovely diluc fic linked above as part of this collab!! without further ado, here is act ii! i would love to hear your feedback!! your thoughts!! your predictions! anything! thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoy <3

tags: afab reader (she/her pronouns but is rather gender fluid/binds her chest sometimes and presents both femme and masc), alcohol use, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of stalking/full on stalking from the fatui to the reader, smut, oral (f!receiving), use of "good girl", friends with benefits, somewhat unclear and messy dynamics, mentions of heartbreak/abandonment issues, bodyguard au technically, fake dating au technically, angst, hurt/comfort

SCENE I

Somewhere dark and stone, dripping, and cave-like. Shadows press and shudder and shift. This is an unknown place and sharply different to Mondstadt’s gold and sky. Confined and cold. Each sound should echo softly or loudly, should repeat itself over and over again.

Kaeya moves with his back to us, slipping among the darkness as if he might belong there.

Kaeya has spent nearly an entire day attempting to tail one of the Fatui members he knows is keeping tabs on you. There’s three, he believes, and they rotate in shifts, much like he, Diluc, Jean, and Venti rotate being near you.

For the first time in a long time, he hasn’t spent his entire day with you. Nor the previous. Venti stayed with you in your own home and now you’re with Jean.

He hates to admit it, but he’s become rather accustomed to watching over you.

But he needs answers for you, so he’s been running all over the city, searching for their reasoning.

This is the closest he’s gotten to a new discovery; this ruin beneath the earth, ducking and weaving through an old, stone crypt of some sort.

He realizes rather quickly it must be some secret meeting place for the Fatui in the city, especially those dealing with the Abyss Order.

The narrow hall opens up into a larger space where an old desk, piled with papers and maps sits under lantern light. Shadows grow large and spindly on the floor. On the stone walls are photos and torn notebook paper, pinned and plastered together, a collage of secrets.

Kaeya peers carefully from his hiding spot to get a better look.

He wants to look at that desk, all the information atop it. He’s certain there must be something there of use, even a greater hint. But he needs this member to leave.

Kaeya picks up a stone, smooth and cool to the touch. He has to play this carefully.

There’s an adjacent hallway across this room. It leads to further darkness. And with the Fatui member’s back turned to him, facing the desk, if he can aim well enough, he’ll be able to–

Kaeya throws the stone and watches it sail through the air, finding it’s mark as it clatters into the bend of the wall down the hallway. He flattens himself to his own wall, waiting and listening.

“Who's there?” The Fatui member calls and Kaeya holds his breath.

“Hello?” Again, before he hears their footsteps stride towards the hallway Kaeya had thrown the stone in and away from him.

He waits as they retreat, deeper and deeper, echoing softly.

He knows he won’t have much time now.

As silently and quickly as possible, he rushes to the desk. His eye flies over all of the papers and maps and scribbling notes.

Your name jumps out to him. He skims.

Vision: Pyro

Strength: Low

Intelligence: High

-Not a fighter

-Use discretion; known and beloved by Mondstadt and other nations.

Kaeya searches harder, shuffling through the papers a little.

There’s a ledger with all the places you’d gone, every single day. There are notes about where best to kidnap you and Kaeya’s stomach sours as he reads words like use force. And torture if necessary.

But what is it they think you know? What would they need to torture out of you?

He moves another piece of paper, only to catch sight of something that makes his heart stop.

Your diary.

There’s no mistaking it. He’d know it anywhere now.

How do they have this? It should’ve been in his home or safe with you.

Horror sweeps through him–they don’t–they couldn’t have taken you, could they?

You’re with Jean, he tries to rationalize. Had you hidden your diary again? Had they found it?

If you hid it, had you snuck away from Venti or Jean in the last day or so? His mind spins sharply.

Footsteps echo.

He’s out of time.

He disappears down his own hallway, heart ricketing in his chest wildly. If they had you, would you be here? Should he search? Is he being unreasonable?

He’ll go to Jean first.

Use force.

You’ll be with Jean. And if you’re not, Jean will organize a rescue party. He’s found their hideout.

Torture if necessary.

Kaeya breaks the surface of the world with a new urgency. The day is melting into evening and the light nearly blinds him a moment as he stumbles out. He doesn’t have time, he breaks into a sprint. His mind flashes hotly, imagines he wish he could never conjure. Images of you tied up, bloody, beaten–

He runs towards the city gates fast and hard.

Strength: Low

He shouldn’t have pawned you off on others–he should’ve stayed beside you. This whole time. He should’ve had Diluc look for the Fatui, he shouldn’t have bid you goodbye yesterday. He should’ve checked in with you.

His ribs ache, his legs burn. He doesn’t stop.

What was he thinking? You’re practically a sitting duck. He knows this.

Not a fighter.

You wouldn’t stand a chance against them. What if Jean is already searching for him because you’ve been taken? He imagines bursting into the city to find her or Venti or Diluc, with some pale look on their face.

The knights on watch must know something is wrong as he runs beneath the gates–they call after him, but don’t stop him.

“Where’s Jean?” He barks to the one trying to catch up to him.

“Headquarters, I think!”

Kaeya veers sharply for Headquarters.

He prays he’ll burst through the door and find you there, with Jean. You’ll be pestering her as the sun sets, chirping and flitting around her office while she tries to get paperwork done. You’ll be there, he tries to tell himself, you will be. They must’ve just nicked your diary.

He throws open the door to Headquarters, rounds the corner and bursts into Jean’s office. Jean is standing on the opposite side of her desk, back facing Kaeya and–

You’re nowhere to be found.

His stomach drops.

“Jean,” he says her name sharply, a note of desperation. “Where is she?”

Jean turns, startled by his appearance, by his urgency, but–

“I left her with Venti. They said they were going to Angel’s Share to perform some songs.” Jean steps towards him, “why? What’s wrong?”

“They have her diary.” Kaeya gets out, rushing out the door of her office.

“Kaeya!” She barks after him, but he’s already pushing his way out of Headquarters. He won’t rest, not until he sees you, until you’re right in front of him. “What are you–where was her diary?”

“I don’t know,” Kaeya snaps, taking stairs two at a time, “I thought it was at my apartment but she’s always hiding it and–” He breaks into another run, heading towards the tavern, “when did you leave her with Venti?”

“I don’t know,” Jean gets out, keeping pace with him, “a few hours ago, maybe? I had a lot to do–”

Kaeya curses under his breath.

“I still don’t know what they want with her but–their notes were about using force. Or–” he can’t get the word out. “They think she knows something.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know.” Kaeya bites out.

He rounds the corner to Angel’s Share sharply and Jean takes it with him.

“I’m sure she’ll be here with Venti.” Jean gets out, attempting to be calm with him. She’s attempting to be a leader.

Kaeya throws open the door, gaze flying across the room and–

He doesn’t see you.

His blood runs cold.

For once, he wishes it was Diluc at the bar, but it’s Charles.

“Has Venti been here?” And then he asks for you, too, says your name with a shot voice.

Charles shakes his head, “haven’t seen either of them at all today. They were supposed to play music tonight, I think–”

Kaeya doesn’t let him finish. He rushes out.

He has half a mind to start shouting like a lunatic for you, all over the city, wandering like a mad man with your name a cry on his lips.

“Maybe they went to her house before–” Jean tries to rationalize, but he can tell she is beginning to fret, too.

Kaeya is already ahead of her, rushing towards your home on the hill in the city. He can’t help his pace, the run he breaks into again. He tries to think of you throwing open the door, laughing at his worry. Where else would you be? He wants to hear you say.

But when he pounds on the door, there is no answer. Not a peep. Your little space is quiet.

“Do you have a key?” Jean asks, but Kaeya doesn’t have the time.

He takes a step back only to kick in the door easily, letting it fly open on its hinges.

(He promises he’ll get you a new door, a better one, one that isn’t so flimsy–that could be so easily broken into. He thinks of you asleep here, with a door like that, and his worry grows insurmountably.)

He shouts your name as he enters.

No answer.

He storms the place. Your bedroom, your bathroom, all familiar and all so empty.

“Venti!” Jean calls, and then your own name, too, as she searches.

Nothing.

“You know how they are,” Jean tries to rationalize, “they’re always getting up to trouble. They could be anywhere.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Kaeya growls, rushing past her and back out the door. He’s beginning to panic. He can feel the tendrils of it creep up his chest, wrapping like vines around his poor throat. His head is growing foggy, warped with his fear. All he can see is you being dragged away.

Use force.

His mind feels hot, too sharp.

Torture if necessary.

“Kaeya,” Jean barks his name, rushing to catch up to him.

Her voice is a balm, he wants–she should–

“I’ll try to get ahold of Diluc and send word out to search the city for her.” Jean says and her voice is filled with authority now, level-headed and steady, “where else would she be?”

“I’m going to my apartment.” Kaeya says, mind narrowing, “in case she’s–I don’t know–”

“Go,” Jean agrees, a command, “and if she’s not there, keep searching–you know her hiding spots now.”

Kaeya nods dazedly.

Jean grabs him roughly, on the arm, jerking him to face her. One hand coming down on his shoulder.

“We’ll find her.” She promises and she dips her head a little to force him to meet her eyes. They’re all stone and determination. The eyes of a leader. “Do you hear me, Captain?”

Kaeya nods, more assuredly now, “yes,” he agrees, finding his voice, her eyes.

She shoves him a little, a push to go, “I’ll reconvene with you shortly. Stay sharp.”

Kaeya doesn’t need another moment; he picks his eyes up to catch the city skyline of Mondstadt, of his apartment in the distance. He breaks into a sprint. He tries to focus only on his breath, on the way his feet carry him swiftly, weaving in and around the city.

He tries to force away what he’d seen.

He bounds for his home, feels his heart and fear ratchet up inside of himself. He’s imagining his home empty.

He’s imagining you gone.

He’s imagining the door shut tight and locked, how he’d left it, and you’re nowhere to be found. A cold space. An empty space.

He takes the stairs two at a time, he tries the door and it–it’s locked still.

He doesn’t pray. He’s not a religious man. And that stupid Archon–

Is sitting perched on his kitchen counter, overlooking the living room.

“Ssh,” Venti hisses, finger to his lips, as he points to his couch. The one Kaeya has slept on nearly every night since this whole ordeal started. The one you are currently occupying, curled up beneath the blanket he usually uses, sleeping soundly.

Or, you were.

You blink awake, slow, confused.

Kaeya rushes to your side.

He kneels.

The door is left ajar.

“You’re here,” he gets out, winded, rough.

“Kaeya?” Your voice is so small and confused.

Without thinking, he brushes a strand of hair from your face as gently as he can, hands shaking. He’s still panting, chest still heaving. But–

“I’m here.” He says then, astonished, relieved.

He wants to pull you off the couch and into his arms. He wants to hold you. He wants to collapse on top of you.

He falls back onto his bottom, breathing hard, all his fear leaking out of him swiftly. “Oh, you’re here.” He says again, voice breaking, as if to assure himself.

You sit up, eyes pricking with concern, “what’s wrong?” you murmur, “where else would I be?”

Kaeya can’t even speak yet, but he laughs, delirious, out of breath.

“No where.” He says, “I thought–you were–”

“She was trying to nap,” Venti finally speaks up and his eyes are far too keen. “Before our performance tonight.”

Kaeya looks at him. Venti looks back.

The door is open.

He heaves out a rough breath. He hangs his head between his shoulders. He tries to calm himself.

“I need to tell Jean to call off–” he laughs, “oh, Diluc is going to lose his mind.”

“Call off what?” You ask.

“Your search party.” Kaeya finally can get out. Your face brightens to shock.

“My search party? Kaeya–”

“Venti, why don’t you find Jean and tell her where you’ve been? Before the whole city turns upside down looking for her.” Kaeya then says. He won’t look at him but he can feel Venti’s eyes on him.

But then Venti laughs, and chirps, “aye, Captain!”

And he flits out of Kaeya’s home.

Venti shuts the door behind him and seals you away with him. Kaeya exhales roughly again, elbows resting on his knees.

“Are you okay?” You ask for a second time, so sweetly. So sincerely. You lean towards him like you want to touch him.

And he wants to say, I was scared. He wants to say, I was terrified of losing you. I could’ve torn the whole city apart looking for you. He wants to say, I’m so relieved to see you. Hold me. Let me hold you.

Instead, all he says is, “they had your diary. And I thought–”

The door is shut tightly.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I left it at home, the last time we–”

“They must’ve broken in.” He agrees softly. And then he looks rather sheepish.

“What?” You ask, as if you know.

“I broke in. I owe you a new door.”

“Kaeya!” You scold, “why did you–why were you so–?!”

“Jean and I thought you were kidnapped!” Kaeya defends himself.

“Kaeya–”

“We were searching for you. Since you weren’t in any of the places you were supposed to be.” He begins to scold.

“Kaeya,”

“Didn’t I leave you with Jean? You should’ve stayed with her.”

You suddenly launch forward, arms wrapping around his neck, falling from the couch and onto his body. His breath is almost knocked out of his lungs for the millionth time today because of you and surprise colors his face. Raises his brows.

You hug him tight, face pressing to the crook of his neck, a bundle in his lap.

“I’m okay,” you murmur, “I’m right here.”

His arms, which had come up in surprise, finally settle over you. They wrap all the way around your shoulders, your middle, pull you closer, and he’s sure his heart is such a mess in his chest. He’s sure it sounds like a disaster.

But you press harder into him, fingers digging into his muscles.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you say, and then your voice tilts upwards playfully, “didn’t think you’d really send the cavalry just because–”

He pinches your side.

“I had reason to believe–!”

You start to laugh, into his throat. You shift to pull away and he wants to keep you there, he wants to hold fast to you and not let go. He wants to cling to you. But he lets you move away to look at his face once more.

You look at him in a way that just makes him feel naked. He wants to hide. He wants to say something clever.

“Thank you,” you suddenly say.

“For what?” Kaeya laughs, “causing a ruckus? Waking you from your nap?”

“For coming for me.” You cut him off. “I feel safe with you and this just proves that–”

Kaeya slackens a little, perhaps surprised or unsure or–you always leave him wobbly and uncertain. You always disarm him so swiftly, so viciously.

“Of course I’d come for you.” Kaeya says and he does mean it. He softens it’s truth with, “it’s my duty.”

But that night, you don’t ask him to sit beside you as you fall asleep–he does so anyway. You don’t say a word, except to ask him for another bedtime story playfully, except to hear him speak, as you always do when he stays with you.

You didn’t ask but he needed to.

It’s not his duty, but he wanted to.

He can’t imagine not watching you drift off to sleep tonight, of all nights, when he thought he’d lost you.

He watches you sleep soundly in his bed, back rising and falling as you curl around one of his pillows, cheek endearingly squished against it. He doesn’t sleep.

The door is locked tight.

And even though it's not his duty, he watches over you, anyway.

***

SCENE II

On the docks of Cider Lake in the early afternoon sun. Venti is perched beside you, plucking lazily at a lyre. Your feet dangle off the dock, swinging like a child. The sky is endlessly blue. Clouds are like sleeping rabbits in the sky. The wind kisses you.

“I feel their eyes most when I’m with you.” You say suddenly, glancing at your companion out of the corner of your eyes.

A note strums from Venti’s fingers. He hums lightly.

“Not sure what the Fatui would want with a measly bard.” Venti shrugs, “maybe they think I’m the weakest of your guards.”

“Maybe,” you say, but you don’t believe that. You don’t believe it because–well, because you noticed them following him first. At first, you weren’t quite sure and you had mentioned it to Venti, but he’d shrugged you off.

Breezy as ever. He’d pretend there was nothing to worry about.

You turn towards him and look at him before you murmur, low enough that any ears listening would only catch the sound of the gently lapping water, “why were the Fatui following you?”

“I believe I’m supposed to ask that of you,” Venti replies with a smile but you can tell, there’s a chipping like a porcelain teacup losing a piece of its lip.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” you tell him softly, eyes glancing out over the calm lake, “but then I caught them intercepting letters and messages of yours. I caught them in the belltower and I knew.”

The belltower in the cathedral was a place Venti had shown you early in your return to Mondstadt. He’d told you it’d been a place that he came to play music, to look out at the world below. A secret place for him, now for you; a gift, he’d said. Places are a gift to give the people you love and secrets are, too.

Then you’d caught a Fatui member snooping through the hidden items Venti had left there; music sheets, maps the two of you had crudely drawn, and old clues to scavenger hunts long past.

The two of you had always liked sending the other all over Mondstadt; it’s why you hide your diary. He hides new songs he wants you to learn. You’d leave clues, games to play, puzzles to solve for each other.

Venti plucks out a few, odd notes on his lyre. Goosebumps erupt over your skin.

“You don’t think I have dealings with them, do you?” Venti asks queerly. There’s a funny sound to his voice.

You shake your head quickly, “Archons, no.” And then you tilt your head, “but I did what I do best.”

A wrong note. It rings discordant in the air.

Venti looks at you.

“You didn’t.” He almost begs, but he knows.

“Of course I did.” You respond and Venti looks genuinely distraught. So you add, “nothing terrible–but I wrote you false letters. I led them on a goose chase a little, like I always do when the Fatui gets too close or comfortable in Mondstadt.”

Venti shakes his head, “you shouldn’t have meddled here.”

“They’re looking for something of yours, aren’t they?” You ask slowly.

Venti, for once, is quiet. The wind catches on your clothes in a burst. It’s confirmation enough.

“So I sent them all over Mondstadt with puzzles and clues and fake letters.” You said, “and really, I thought it was harmless but–”

“Did you tell this to Kaeya?” Venti asks.

“Not specifically this. I always toy with the Fatui when I can, though, he knows that.”

Venti shakes his head slightly, fingers digging into the wood of his instrument, “and with all the hiding places and riddles between us, I’m sure they–” Venti stands abruptly, “I need to speak to Kaeya.”

You stand with him suddenly, “why? What for?”

Venti frowns at you and it’s an expression you hardly ever see him wear.

So you press tenderly, “what are they looking for, Venti?”

“You’re such trouble,” Venti replies and his voice catches with emotion; he doesn’t mean it meanly, in fact it’s–well, it’s fond. Mournful, almost. The wind rushes past the two of you, stronger now. Water laps at the docks.

“Give me a clue.” You try to charm him but it sounds more like a plea. “Like always. I’ll figure it out and you won’t ever have to say it outloud, if you’re that scared.”

Your heart feels like a brewing storm in your chest. Venti has never hidden things so openly from you. It frightens you.

But Venti shakes his head for once, small and soft. “Not this time, my friend.”

“Venti–”

He suddenly looks away, down towards the other side of the dock, where the cobblestone of the street meets the wood. Kaeya is standing there, waiting to relieve Venti and walk with you to Springvale for rehearsal. The gold of his coat glints in the afternoon sun. He looks like a knight.

He waits for you.

“You have rehearsal,” Venti says, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “go.”

“Please, will you tell me?” You ask again. You swallow hard around sudden tears; stupid and silly but–aching. You can’t name why you feel like crying, only that you can tell something far larger is on the horizon.

It hangs like a storm.

You can feel its pressure, now more than ever.

Tell me, you want to beg him, you want to sing, you want to scream. Let me help you, let me in.

Venti looks at you with love and affection and sadness. He looks at you with a heaviness you can’t name, but can taste. It’s ancient. It’s otherworldly. You want to hold him. You want to hide him from the world.

“Not yet,” he replies.

“Why not?” Your voice breaks as easily and fragile as a bird’s wing.

Venti smiles sadly, “because if you knew, you’d put yourself in even more danger than you already have for me.”

You open your mouth, but he continues;

“And this isn’t your battle.” He turns away, eyes glassy, but waves at Kaeya, as if nothing is wrong. He smiles at you, watery and fond.

“Besides, you’ve never been much of a fighter in the first place.”

***

SCENE III

In the living room of Kaeya’s apartment. Soft, evening blue light through the windows. Hazy, dark shadows. You’re curled up on the couch, legs tucked up underneath you, with a cup of tea held in your palms. You’re ready for bed. Kaeya enters from his office with a stack of letters and papers; what the audience can see of his face is that he’s somber for once. He casts the greater shadow.

“Will you tell me again why you thought it was a good idea to toy with the Fatui?” Kaeya asks and in his hand, he has only some of the letters and maps and sheet music that you’d been leaving for Venti.

Or, the Fatui. Since you knew they were rifling through Venti’s things.

“I always toy with them.” You reply simply, taking a slow, burning sip of tea. It’s chamomile and rose. A hint of cinnamon. Kaeya prepared it for you before disappearing to do some work in his office. You swallow. “And I never said it was a good idea.”

“Then why do it?”

“Why are they following Venti? What are they looking for?”

Kaeya lets out a sharp breath, perhaps growing impatient. “I don’t know. Right now, I need to know why they think they need you to find it, though.”

“Well, I made it seem like I had whatever they’re looking for.”

You watch Kaeya freeze for a moment and if you weren’t so intuitive and just a little wittier, you’d make some sort of joke about cryo and freezing in place.

“Why?” He demands suddenly.

“I wanted to get them off Venti’s back.” You say, “this is what I do when the Fatui get too close to the people I know. This is what I do when the Fatui think they can stick their hands in Mondstadt. Someone has to teach them a lesson.” You take another little sip of your tea, and then add, “and I don’t have a sword–my weapon is my pen. My voice. My wit.”

Kaeya shakes his head, “you don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You gesture smoothly, “then enlighten me.”

“This is bigger than you, do you understand that?” Kaeya then says and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him quite so stern.

His face is shadowed. It’s growing darker.

“Sure,” you say easily, “that’s why I had to intervene.”

“I don’t think you actually understand.” Kaeya says and his voice has grown more serious, imperative, a little lower.

“I’m not an idiot,” you snip, “clearly! Since I’ve managed to fool the Fatui and send them running all over Mondstadt.” You can feel your hackles rise a little, heat swimming in your chest, up your neck. “And most importantly, away from Venti–since he’s got some huge secret that no one will tell me!”

Kaeya moves suddenly to sit on the coffee table in front of the sofa you’re on. Your knees nearly brush. He splays out your letters and music sheets and maps. “Why didn’t you come to me before doing all of this? Before involving yourself?”

“Because I always mess with the Fatui!” Your voice raises and you finally move to set the tea cup beside him on the coffee table. “I didn’t think it was any different than any of the other times!”

“The Fatui aren’t just–” Kaeya gestures, papers crinkling beneath his grip that has grown tighter with his own frustration. “–some band of half-wit politicians or merchants for you to toy with! They’re dangerous.”

This quiets you for a moment. And then, “so? A lot of things are dangerou–”

“So?” Kaeya repeats, “so?! You’re not even–” he laughs, but the sound is scraping and hollow, off-kilter. It’s disbelief, almost a scoff, “you’re not even a fighter. You’re not a Knight or a warrior. You’re not even an adventurer of some kind.”

Silence stretches between the two of you.

“Can you ever trust my own judgment and intuition? I have made it this far–”

“But you’re reckless.” Kaeya says, “specifically, you’re reckless with yourself. You know the Fatui are dangerous–it’s why you’re worried about Venti, right? It’s why you intervened.” Kaeya says and then his voice gentles, “so why don’t you have the same concern for yourself?”

You feel your jaw lock. It ticks.

You look away from him defiantly, out towards one of the windows, blue with the evergrowing night sky.

It strikes a strange note inside of you. You have concern for yourself, you want to say, you came to him, didn’t you? Eventually.

But it doesn’t negate what you did, which was reckless. He’s right; you could’ve turned to him immediately, you could’ve gone to Diluc or Jean or him. But instead, you tried to distract the Fatui; you tried to dance and sing and entice them onto the path you’re on, instead of the one Venti is on.

You gave them a performance. And now, with all their eyes set on you, like the hungry, vying eyes of an audience, a predator, you are in danger.

“This isn’t a game anymore. This isn’t funny or—or breezy. You’ve gotten yourself into real danger, do you understand?” Kaeya then says and you can tell he’s trying to get you to look at him again.

“I have you and Jean and Diluc to—“

“But your recklessness got us all here. You rush head first into—into everything, without regard for yourself.” Kaeya continues. “You’re an open book. You wear your heart on your sleeve—it’s like you have no self preservation whatsoever.”

You sit in silence. You cross your arms over your chest and you feel a hard, little ache in the pit of your throat.

He’s chipping away at something inside of you, something already too tender to take the beating.

“It’s not a bad thing to be open.” You say and your voice is tight, thicker than it should be.

“No,” he agrees, “but you have no regard for yourself and all of it for everyone else.”

Tears prick your eyes, much to your dismay.

You know the reason. You can feel it, somewhere in the back of your mouth, down where your throat is tight.

You can’t lose Venti.

Venti could lose you, you’ve decided. The world could lose you. But you are so terrified of loss and really–you must’ve been easy to leave if–

If it could be done so effortlessly.

(You think of yourself as a child and your father setting you down for the last time. You think of yourself at an altar, forever waiting, the way you waited for your father your whole life.)

Venti can lose you.

But you can’t lose Venti.

You hope that maybe if you give enough of yourself to the world, it will need you bad enough to never lose. You think one day, it’ll fill the empty, aching wound inside of you that has been just left to dry out. Crack and splinter.

Sometimes, you think if you scare someone bad enough, they’ll look at you and say they can’t lose you. You think maybe if you scare yourself bad enough, you’ll finally look at yourself and say I can’t lose you.

“Don’t cry,” Kaeya hushes softly and you wipe quickly at the tear that has freed itself to slip down the slope of your cheek.

It makes you want to cry harder, for some reason, for him to be so tender now.

He sets the papers down beside you on the couch finally. He reaches out and touches your knee, broad palm surprisingly warm, as he rubs a gentle pass with his thumb.

“Why are you crying?” Kaeya then asks, coaxing, gentle.

You sniff hard.

You dig a little, you search for the answer. Is it because you’re careless with yourself? Is it because you’re scared now? Is it because he pointed it out at all—that he noticed enough, saw through you enough, to finally say it?

Is it because—

“I worry about you.” He says when you don’t answer him.

—you’re worth fretting over?

You shake your head a little, perhaps in an attempt to disagree with him, perhaps in an attempt to reassure him. But nothing comes out except another few tears.

You try to keep the sob back, the noise trapped with the reason in the back of your throat. You fear what will come out.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to whisper and when you finally turn to face him, he’s right there, and for a moment, you think he might move further to hold you. You think you might just slide into his arms.

You hold your breath.

You think he holds his, too.

“I don’t need an apology.” Kaeya finally murmurs and he doesn’t fold you into his arms, but he turns up his hand on your knee carefully. His palm, an offering. “I just need you to be more careful.”

Slowly, you slide your hand into his.

You’ve held his hand plenty now, know the rough scrape of his calluses against your own, but it has never quite felt like this.

Real. Weighted.

He folds his fingers between yours gently. Your hands lock together, woven, knuckle over knuckle. Palm to palm.

You’re both watching your hands, enamored, maybe terrified.

You cling to him in a way you haven’t clung to someone in a long, long time.

You think you’ve tried to hold onto everything like this; with too much force, gripped in your rebellious fist. You think everything you’ve ever held must’ve been crumpled and ruined from your grasp, you think everything must have the indents of your fingers permanently etched there.

You want to squeeze, you want to bear down on his hands like a dog who finally caught a bird.

“Can you promise me that?” Kaeya prompts gently when he doesn’t receive a response from you.

You glance up at his searching face, the way he’s watching you carefully, scouring to see any flicker of emotion.

You nod a little, jerky, unsure.

“Will you say it for me?” He murmurs and dips his head a little to keep your straying gaze.

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat, tight and hard.

You feel your eyes fill with tears again.

But still, you manage to croak, “I’ll try to be more careful.”

You can tell the response displeases him somewhat; you can tell he wants more. But anything more right now, may feel like a lie.

And you’re no good at that.

“Okay,” Kaeya agrees, “thank you.” And then he adds with a gentle lilt, “I’m sorry for making you cry.”

You laugh a little through your tears, “it’s okay–” you mumble, letting your eyes fall back to your intertwined hands. “I probably needed to hear it.”

His thumb makes a slow, comforting pass over the back of your hand.

For a moment, the space fills with silence.

You watch the careful sweep of his thumb, you watch the flex of his hand, the veins against his wrist. You can feel the room fill with something more, a growing of a feeling, stretching amongst your ribs. Perhaps amongst his. You think there is something blooming inside of him, something he’s terrified of, something you’ll always long for.

(If you could feel his pulse in his wrist, it would be jumping, picking up in a fierce little tempo.)

He’s tenser now, you realize. His breath is caught somewhere in his chest, like he might speak again.

You wait for him.

He opens his mouth.

But then after a moment, he closes it.

You pick your head up to examine his face, to try and discern what it is he wants to say now.

And mostly, it’s a mask of causality.

(His trembling heart is the only thing that gives him away now.)

Maybe, the depth of his eye, or maybe it’s only a trick of the light.

You want to say, what is it? Or prompt him for more. You want him to speak what is so clearly on the very tip of his tongue.

Tell me, you want to say, tell me what seems to scare you so badly.

“I–” he starts. He stops.

And then neither of you speak and the tension stretches and something inside you grows. You cling to him harder without realizing it, as if anticipating the way he’ll pull away. You don’t want him to go. You can feel it, your heart unfurling for him, you can feel the way he holds you, too.

In the same way that you hold him.

You hope he leaves indents in your skin. You hope he never lets go.

“Yes?” You prompt gently.

But then he clears his throat and glances away.

The spell is broken and he forces his hands to loosen from his own hold on you. He forces himself to recede and to calm his heart. You watch as he mentally pulls away from you. You force yourself not to cling harder to him, to catch his hand and hold it close to yourself, to pull him closer to you.

He says, “Mondstadt cares very deeply for you–and you for Mondstadt. I only wish–” he draws in a small breath, “that you’d afford yourself the same care.”

You wonder what he was going to say instead. You know this is not his original thought, but the secondary, more distant one. You almost want to ask him, you want to needle and beg, but you know Kaeya well now.

You know he doesn’t say anything he hasn’t carefully thought about or that he doesn’t want you to hear.

Still, it manages to make you soften, to make tears press again behind your eyes.

You turn to tuck your face into your shoulder, like it may stop him from seeing you cry. You squeeze his hand like a lifeline.

“Oh, look what I’ve done now.” He says and his voice is light–he’s teasing you gently, holding you tighter again as you laugh now and sniffle, fingers still digging deep into his hand.

“I’m sorry–” you mumble, “Am I hurting you?”

You loosen your grip on his hand.

“I’ve been through far worse,” he soothes, running his thumb back over the dips and plains of your hand.

You try to keep yourself from bursting into heavier, harder tears. You can’t even quite name why; your care for him, or his for you. The fact that he won’t name it, or because you’re scared he’ll leave if you do.

You’re nearly trembling with it; you’re afraid he’ll say one more word, one more phrase and you’ll simply fall to pieces.

You don’t know what it is about care; but when someone is gentle with you, it makes you feel as if they’ve torn you to shreds. It turns you inside out. It turns you into a child again, desperately seeking it out. It feels foolish now sometimes, over dramatic.

But Kaeya holds your hand and you take deep, shuddering breaths until you don’t feel as if you’re going to bawl your eyes out anymore.

You don’t want to stop clinging to his hand, though.

“I should get to bed,” you finally say, if only for him, if only to give him an out because it’s easier than if he finds it himself. You’re too fragile for him to pull away first tonight.

So you slip from his grasp and stand. Your legs feel a little wobbly, unsure of yourself. He looks up at you, from beneath the fan of his dark lashes. You swallow hard, around the tears, around whatever it is he makes you feel.

You can still feel the pressure in your hand, the way his fingers feel against yours.

Again, he looks as if he wants to say something.

You wait, expectant.

And again, he lets it fall.

Instead, he says, “yes–it's another early morning. I’ll let you sleep.”

He stands now, too, collecting the papers, gathering them into his hands carefully. All of your wit and love and craft. All of your recklessness in the palm of his hand.

“I’m going to stay up a little longer,” he says then, “if you need anything.”

Now it's your turn to look up at him.

And there must be something too raw, too sincere in your eyes, because he can’t look for long.

“Kaeya,” you want to draw his gaze back to yours, but he doesn't quite reach your eyes. Still, you need to say, “thank you.”

“For scolding you?” He asks, light, too light. He tries to create distance. Coldness.

“For caring about me.”

He swallows. He doesn’t confirm or deny it. But he looks guilty, a man held back, everything carefully in place. Not a word misspoken, not a look out of place. Sometimes, you have the urge to destroy that veneer. Sometimes, you want to know what he looks like without all his thoughtfully placed appearances.

You wonder if you will ever see him like that. You wonder if he will ever tell you more; if he will ever let you in.

You think maybe you will stay like this forever, close to him, but not too close.

With care, but without it spoken. Always in the blue dark and never in the dawn.

He clears his throat, “it’s my job to look out for you.”

Your heart falls a little, sharp, like a plummeting note, a tight draw of the strings of a discordant chord. You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“Yes,” you agree distantly, nodding your head, “I suppose it is.”

“I’ll be in the office.” He says because he must slip away from you now. You think when he gets too close, he grows scared of being burned.

He closes the door behind him.

You watch it for a moment, steady.

You wonder if it’ll stay like this forever; always on the other side of the door.

When you go to sleep that night, you leave the bedroom door ajar, as if to prove something.

But in the morning, you find it shut tight.

At rehearsal, you’re somewhere else, off in your mind. Though you say your lines, you feel as if you miss them, like they’re coming out automatically, half-hearted.

And the only ones that rings true, that resonates throughout the stage is one you’d previously thrown away;

“Hold on tight–don’t let go.”

This time, your voice cracks with it, breaks over the don’t.

That night, Kaeya presents you with a bouquet of flowers; a show in front of the world.

And when he brushes his knuckles against yours, you eagerly slip your hand into his as you walk home.

You don’t even care that it’s for the world and no longer for you.

You are, if nothing else, a good actor (or of foolish heart);

So you pretend it’s real, with the flowers he gave you nestled into the crook of your elbow, and his hand curled around yours. You pretend that you are walking home with your love, and the sun is setting, and you are filled to the brim.

You laugh as if that’s the case. You lean into him as if that’s the case.

You knock into him as you walk, desperate to be close, to feel his side against yours. You are desperate to have more of him; all his attention, all his affection.

To not feel like a world away–or like there’s a door between you, one that you don’t know if he’ll ever open or not.

***

PRELUDE TO SCENE IV

Springvale in the afternoon, the sun warm and bright; it makes everything sparkle, almost radiant. The grass seems lush and full, the lake is shimmering.

Klee eats cut fruit happily beside you at a picnic table. You steal a piece or two from time to time. Kaeya sits across from you and Klee, his back to the audience.

“Are you and Kaeya boyfriend and girlfriend?” Klee suddenly asks around a burst of valberries.

Despite everything, you feel your heart tick up in a strange, sharp tempo.

Your eyes fly to Kaeya, who's already looking at you.

You share a silent conversation with each other and a series of increasingly dramatic expressions;

What should we tell her?

The truth?

What? No!

Then you tell her–

“Yes,” Kaeya finally says, “we are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Klee picks her head up, perhaps surprised at his answer. “You’re dating?!” She asks, louder now and you can’t help but laugh.

“Yes,” Kaeya lies, perhaps for any eavesdroppers, “we’re dating, Klee.”

She looks between the two of you.

“Miss Jean said you’re in love with each other.” Klee says casually and that makes both of you freeze momentarily.

You feel heat rush into the high points of your face. Your mind whirls, spins into overthinking. Why would Jean say this? To keep your covers? A kinder way to say it to a child?

For a moment, you fear Jean knows a part of your heart that you fully haven’t gotten to know yet yourself.

You fear there is some truth to it.

(Perhaps love is too strong of a word but—)

You adore Kaeya.

You have your whole life, you think, from when you were young and chasing after them with childlike, outstretched hands, to adulthood, where you have always held respect for him and now—

Something more, perhaps, after all your time with him.

How could you not? What chance did you have against him, anyways?

(You hope he doesn’t dare read your diary again.

You suddenly worry that Jean has instead.)

You’re almost fearful to catch Kaeya’s gaze, you swallow hard, but force yourself to. And when you do, you realize he’s–

Amused. Near laughing.

That absolute bas—

You kick him underneath the table and he yelps a little. You hide your snicker behind a hand against your mouth.

“We care about each other very much.” You tell Klee, sobering.

“Are you gonna get married?” She asks then, just as casually, around another piece of fruit.

Kaeya makes a noise of surprise, “married?” He asks Klee, “where are these questions coming from?”

“I thought if you’re boyfriend and girlfriend, then you get married.” Klee responds.

“Sometimes,” you agree, nudging the bowl of fruit closer to her little hands so that she can reach the last few pieces better. “But right now we’re just boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Klee hums around her berry.

And then she looks up at you, “do you guys kiss?”

The word kiss is punctuated with disgust, almost sick curiosity; as if she might not be able to believe it.

It makes you choke, then stutter into a laugh. Kaeya laughs as well, full and surprised.

“People who are dating do tend to kiss, Klee, so yes.” He says, amused with her. He catches your eye across the table. You swallow hard with the way he gazes at you, infinitely pleased and laid back, deeply amused. By you or Klee, you’re not sure. Still, you can’t help the smile that touches your lips, perhaps just as entertained, perhaps a little rueful.

“Gross,” she declares. And then she looks at Kaeya, “do you think she’s pretty?”

You look at Kaeya expectantly, propping your chin in your hands, and sing, “yes, Kaeya, do you think I’m pretty?”

He smirks, leaning back in his seat a little, and a fissure of heat rips through you. You bat your lashes for him.

“I think you’re beautiful, darling.” Kaeya croons, sweet as ever, and enough to make you damn near melt.

You can feel heat in your face, despite it all. You feel like a teenager. You feel like a girl with a crush, a boy with his love in front of him, and not a clue what to do. Bumbling and suddenly young, graceless.

A pang hits you squarely in the chest; you wish this was real. You wish he was being honest.

Klee squeals in embarrassment or surprise. “You’re going to get cooties!” She tells you.

You use her as a distraction, leaning down a little to conspire with her, “Kaeya does have cooties.” You agree in a faux-whisper. “But I have the antidote.”

“You do?” Klee asks, “what is it?”

“Its a secret recipe,” you begin, putting on a good show of trying to come up with the ingredients, “but it certainly starts with the essence of butterflies.” You glance over at the field behind you, which you know is teeming with butterflies.

You used to chase them here in your youth until the sun set and the fireflies sparked to life in the evening dark. And then you chased their soft, blinking lights until the other kids were called home. And it was just you and the rolling fields and endless night skies and bumbling bugs. You’d try to carry one home with you so you wouldn’t feel so lonely.

Klee follows your gaze and watches as one of the butterflies flits and flutters.

“Can I ask for your help, little Spark Knight? Will you carefully catch me a butterfly? Don’t hurt it, though, we need it alive for the antidote.”

Immediately, she is perking up, jumping up from her seat.

“You can count on me!”

She bounds off into the field of swaying wildflowers.

You turn back to Kaeya.

His eye is soft, perhaps fond.

Before you can loose your bravery, loose your courageous little heart, you stand and move to his side of the bench so that you can watch Klee.

Your shoulder brushes with his. Your thigh touches his. You’re aware of it all, sharply, keenly.

He looks at you and you gaze back up at him. For a moment, you get swept away in his star-blue eye. The bend of dark lashes. Like the butterflies in the field, your heart flutters, feeling as delicate as their wings.

“Careful,” Kaeya says softly, so smoothly that his voice could be a melody, “or people really will think we’re in love.”

Heat smarts your face again. But you tip your chin up because you’ve never shied away from a challenge before; “why do you say that?”

Kaeya suddenly reaches out and carefully, as if you might fall to pieces at his touch (and really—you think you might), takes hold of your chin. His thumb barely brushes your bottom lip. Then he says, “the way you look at me.”

“You were looking at me first,” you accuse but your voice is hushed.

“And you shouldn’t melt when I touch you.”

Your stomach swoops like a bird in the sky and then soars. Your lashes flutter. You’re close to him—almost nose to nose. And now you really do think of kissing him like he’s actually yours. As if he could be.

His eye drops to your lips, thumb inching upwards.

“Then you shouldn’t touch me so.” You murmur, earnest, and if your voice is soft with pleading—a pleading for what, you can’t tell—then whose to say? “Like—like you want to kiss me.”

Your nose brushes against his.

“Don’t—” his voice sticks, “don’t kiss me. No one’s even watching.”

“Do you not want me to?”

“Yes, I want—” he stops.

Your heart sings. I want, I want, I want—

He swallows, “we shouldn’t, though.”

“Why not?” You dare to ask, hands drifting to his chest, his collar bones.

You can almost, almost feel his smile, slow and fond, “well, firstly, you’ll get cooties…”

“Kaeya,” your own smile is a warm curve that you want to feel against his.

“Secondly,” He begins, drawing in a soft breath that you feel beneath the palm of your hand.

“I have a butterfly!” Klee shouts, head suddenly poking up from the wildflowers in a burst of petals.

You and Kaeya jolt away from each other, hands drawing back into your laps, facing away from each other as if teenagers caught by your parents. Heat zips through you in a rush.

He almost—you almost—

Something in your chest bats its wings, excited, elated. It takes to flight. A smile overtakes your face, winning, determined.

Oh, you think, glancing at him as you head to Klee, oh, you want me, too.

She opens her little hands for you and the moment she does, the butterfly escapes into the sky—taking to flight.

You laugh as she squeals.

She races after it.

And then you do, too.

In an instant, Kaeya has joined you, too.

And it dissolves, the sun slowly moving throughout the sky, into running and chasing and laughing. The joyful sound of your laugh, of Klee’s excitement, of Kaeya’s fondness.

It melts like the sky, like your heart, like the way you do when Kaeya touches you.

There’s a moment, quick, when you’re in the wildflowers with him. He’s on his back and you lean over him.

He peers up at you.

Beautiful man that he is with sparkling eyes.

You think, people really will think we’re in love, if you look at me like that.

And then you say, boldened by the day and the sun and the warmth and the tempo of his heart beneath your open palm;

“You’ll be mine yet, Captain.”

He blinks, perhaps surprised, before a full, warm laugh falls from his lips.

“Is that a challenge, princess?” He purrs, looking up at you with a halo of flowers beneath his head.

You grin, beautiful and wicked and radiant.

“It’s a promise.”

And then you stand to run after Klee, down the sloping hill, and into the arms of the sky hanging above your heads.

He watches you and you can feel his gaze on your back, your silhouette against the sky, your laugh caught on the wind, and tuck the vow into your heart.

Hope it tucks into his, too, finds it’s home there where no one has before and claim it as yours, yours, yours.

You open your palms and a butterfly, blue as the sea, as a bird’s wing, leaps from your hands and takes to flight. Takes to the sky all open just for you.

***

SCENE IV

The belltower in the Cathedral, high above Mondstadt. Storm clouds cling to the horizon. The sky is mostly dark, but the sun escapes through a sliver of clouds and still shines for now, casting the world in a strange contradiction. More ominous. More stunning. Burnished buildings set against wicked, deep blue storm clouds.

Your skirts swirl against gold and silver bells, as blue as the clouds. Kaeya turns and twists, so we only catch flashes of his face.

Kaeya takes the steps near two at a time to keep up with your pace. You lift your skirts with one hand, racing up the curving, stone steps, and your other hand holds fast to his. You drag him up and up and up.

The whole day, you’d dragged him all over Mondstadt, to all your favorite places; bakeries and music stores and the library. Eagerly, he’d followed, been at your side, at your heel like a loyal dog.

(A lovesick pup—)

Kaeya thinks he could spend countless days with you like this.

The world is always more brilliant with you—he can’t deny it.

And now, you’ve promised him another secret place of yours.

“How much further?” He breathes hard, surprised to find himself winded. His legs almost burn; there have been far more stairs than he originally thought. Or was promised. but he was also promised the best view in all of Mondstadt, with one of your sweetest smiles.

And really, how could he have denied you then? How could he deny you at all today?

“Not much!” You chirp back and then all it takes is a little more, until you come to a wooden door.

It gives easily under your weight, your excited push, throwing it wide open.

Light gleams, the world bursts before his eyes in a shimmer of gold, a rain of color and life.

You sweep into the space, the arch beneath the stones and over the other side of one of the great bells. If he peers down, he can see the wooden scaffolding where someone stands to pull on the huge rope below. No doubt, it would take up this whole space, swing wildly so that the two of you would have to nimbly dodge and move, duck just to keep your heads.

He hopes you’ve accounted for this, too.

He follows you carefully around the bell, only to come to the other side of it and have the whole world open up before you.

And it’s just you, in the breeze, and the storm clouds, above all of Mondstadt.

You hang, perhaps a little too precariously, off one of the large stone pillars.

Kaeya has half a mind to grab you, to pull you back towards him. But the wind favors you.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You breathe and you’re so taken with it all, that he can hear your voice catch.

“It is,” he agrees, but he’s not looking at the world the way you are.

He’s looking at you.

He watches you watch the streets below and the clouds above. He watches love and adoration paint across your face; joy and a strange sort of melancholy.

Oh, you’ve always been so open.

Finally, you inhale.

Whilst still looking at the world below, the heavens above, you say, “I can’t explain what it does to me–the sky and the city and the wind when it touches me.” You look as if you could almost cry, and immediately his heart gives a lurch in his chest, “I don’t know how anyone can stand it.”

Something in him twists and constricts. He wants to wipe your tears. He wants to coo, don’t cry, don’t cry.

You laugh, “I’m sorry,” and shake your head like you’re silly, “I can’t help it–I’m just so happy. I adore the world so much.”

You turn to face him, open and raw, “I know these haven’t been ideal circumstances,” you start and you shift, and like he’s drawn to the movement, like you’ve pulled him in, he moves, too.

And then he’s standing in front of you. In front of an ancient bell from a nation that isn’t is, but could be. Above the whole world. Beneath the storm of it.

“But I’ve been–” a tear escapes and again, as if he possessed, before he can even think, his hand has darted out to catch it. You laugh again, joyful and aching, “you make me so happy. And I—“

“Doesn’t seem so,” he murmurs, “seems I’ve made you cry.”

You laugh again, sweet to his ears, like their own song. Your hands come up to his chest, palms open and flat against his racing heart. He’s sure you can feel it. Can you hear it? He hopes not.

And no one is watching. He doesn’t need to stand this close to you or wipe your tears.

You don’t need to put your hands on his chest and look up at him like that, in a way he doesn’t deserve.

(You’ll be mine yet, Captain.)

You look at him like he could’ve hung the moon. Or carved your beloved Mondstadt itself with his own hands from hill and valley.

An ache spreads its wings like a bird in his chest. It isn’t fair, he thinks, to be looked at by you, with this expression on your face, when he knows he can’t have you. He knows you can’t be his, not truly.

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him so.

“They’re happy tears,” you tell him, pawing at his chest, creeping up towards his neck. You sway towards him. You finish what he tried to stop you from admitting, “—and I adore you.”

Kaeya’s heart gives this twist, like it’s trying to rebel against him. He wants to run. He wants your arms around him. He wants—

“Careful,” Kaeya murmurs reflexively. Careful of what, though, he can’t say.

Careful with yourself around him? Careful with him?

You don’t heed his warning at all, and like you always have, you barrel towards all that you want. You press up to him.

“You do make me happy,” you say again, sweeter now like honey on your lips, tip your chin up like you might offer him a taste.

“Everything makes you happy,” Kaeya counters, shaking his head fractionally, looking down at you with lidded eyes.

“Not true,” you almost pout up at him, shaking your head, fingers tightening in the collars of his shirt like you know he’s thinking about fleeing.

He has half a mind to kiss you. You’re leaning up on your toes a little. He can smell your perfume; red berries and honeysuckle. Warm vanilla. He feels something tighten inside of him, hot and aching. He needs to put a stop to this—

He says your name, in warning. Perhaps fear.

And you look up at him through the fan of your lashes and say his name like it’s a melody, “Kaeya.”

He shakes his head now, fractionally, “don’t.” He murmurs, voice a low rumble.

“Don’t what?” You ask innocently and then you do it again, as if you know perfectly well, “Kaeya–”

His hand comes down to clutch your wrist, to keep it from moving around to the nape of his neck. He stills you.

You look up at him, questioning, almost desperate. Perhaps unsure–you go to pull away, but he seizes your wrist, holds it tight to his chest and keeps you close.

Thunder rumbles.

“Don’t say my name like that.” He croons, voice a little rough, “don’t torture me.”

He watches your face transform into understanding. Into—

Your fingers sink back into the fabric of his clothes, emboldened, “Kaeya,” you say like it bursts on your tongue, and then again, “Kaeya,” you hum, sing his name on a note that could be its own siren song. “Kaeya,” you purr as one of your arms winds around his neck.

His poor heart—

He makes a noise; a soft groan of frustration, a little growl, back in his throat.

“You’re such trouble,” but his other hand is squeezing at your hip now. “I swore to everyone I had nothing but pure intentions with you.”

Your nose brushes his, a smile licking at the corner of your mouth, “I surely hope not.”

“I’m supposed to protect you.” He gets out.

“You do—you are.” Soft, sweet little assurance.

He shakes his head again, barely, nose brushing yours. Fractionally closer. “You’re my responsibility.”

“Are my desires, too?” You murmur and when you lean towards him to close the short distance between your lips, he suddenly seizes your jaw in his hand.

You gasp.

“And what of mine?” He asks, eye glinting like the too-hot part of a flame. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

His voice is a low rasp.

You look up at him with wide eyes, soft in the center, your eyebrows drawing in a little and you look—you look like you adore him. Like you’re desperate for him.

“Sleeping in my bed every night, my clothes—�� Kaeya allows his thumb to drift over your bottom lip, slow, parting it from your top. He exhales roughly. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Kiss me,” you plead.

Lightning cracks across the sky in a fissure of heat.

“I shouldn’t.” He counters, even as you kiss at the pad of his thumb. Lips soft and warm, wet as your tongue darts out in a flash of heat. He inhales tightly, letting his thumb be drawn into the crux of your mouth.

You look up at him through your lashes. He has to fight back another groan. There’s a flush on the nape of his neck, heat that swims beneath his skin. He’s certain you’ll melt him with your gaze alone.

What’s he supposed to do?

How’s he supposed to survive you?

He scrambles for his wits.

And firstly, he pulls his thumb from your lips.

“Kaeya—“ you coax again, “Kaeya.”

“Stop it,” he hushes, “I can’t.”

“I want you,” you murmur, almost whine.

“You’re a brat.” Kaeya groans finally, “stop tempting me.”

“I’ll beg,” you sing sweetly. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“No,” he says quickly because the thought of that makes his mind screech to a halt. “Never. I’d never—“

Make you beg.

He swallows around the words sharply.

He lays his hands, long and broad, on your shoulders.

He forces distance between the two of you.

Thunder grumbles unhappily across the sky.

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

“But you want to?”

And the way you look at him, so earnestly and so desperately—

“That’s besides the point—“ You open your mouth to speak, only for him to continue, “my job is to protect you. This would be highly unprofessional of me.”

“Since when have you—“

“You deserve better.” He finally says, words flying from his mouth before he can stop them, “I am, frankly, a rake and a cheat and—“

“That’s not—“

“The point is,” Kaeya continues over you, lest you do something even worse and try to fight or deny him, “it would be unwise of us.”

“I, for one, have never claimed to be wise.”

Kaeya laughs now, full and warm and fond. He shakes his head. You’re near glowing with just the sound of his joy. So he continues;

“It would be foolish. Perhaps, even, one of the worst things we could do.”

His voice lilts, turns melodic.

Your hands are back on his chest somehow. Flat over his heart, nearing his collar again. He’s losing. You’re sidling close and he wants to bring you closer still. He can feel all the curves of your body to his, fitting up against him like a missing puzzle piece.

“Utterly disastrous, really.” He continues, voice growing fainter. He’s losing.

“Wildly reckless?” You murmur, tipping your chin up, offering your lips to him like a sweet lamb to sacrifice.

“Terribly…” he drifts, feeling the brush of your lips against his, “stupid, I’m afraid.”

You hum lightly, barely, in acknowledgement before he’s suddenly closing the distance and kissing you soundly.

Oh, he’s lost.

(It’s a promise.)

The wind picks up sharply for a proper storm. Lightning flashes behind his eyelids.

And that’s all it takes, Kaeya realizes, heart swinging wildly in his chest like a bell tolling. Knocking against his rib cage.

You throw your arms around his neck and deepen it.

He groans in defeat, damning it all, and grabs at the skirts of your waist, squeezing at your hips desperately.

Damn it all, he thinks again, knowing it’ll be something of a shipwreck; brutal and splendid and massive. Beautiful and heartbreaking enough that he just won’t be able to look away.

More thunder, sky swirling and teeming and ready to just burst. He can feel it under his skin.

You sink your hands into his hair. He nips sharply enough at your bottom lip that a gasp is wrenched from you. He swallows it.

He wants so much more.

The sky opens up and rain falls from the heavens in a golden and brutal downpour.

***

SCENE V

Dawn Winery in the evening, plum dark and warm from fire in the hearth. You and Diluc are at the grand piano, seated side by side, in an intimate and cozy parlor room.

Kaeya has just entered and we see the side profile of his face as he watches the two of you.

“Oh, do you remember this one?” You ask and immediately, music fills the space as your hands dance over the keys in a sweet, jaunty little tune.

“Like this?” Diluc asks, setting his hands to the lower side to immediately complete the melody you play. “It’s this one, right?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, the two of you playing with ease, a smile on your face. “We used to play this one all the time for our parents.”

It’s such an innocent remark. Kaeya is almost caught off guard by it, by the memory that floods back to him.

Crepus in the lounge chair, your parents across from him on the settee. The glow of the fire warm and gentle. Faces of people that swim in his mind, that he hasn’t seen or has avoided for a long time now, their smiles and laughs. People who left. Who died. Ghosts that once listened to your music, just as he is now, on the outskirts.

Diluc, surprisingly, is not put off by the memory. Instead, he smiles, “I used to always mess this part up.”

And then with ease, his large hands cascade over the keys. Not a note out of place.

“And look at you now!” You encourage him.

He laughs softly, low, like the fire in the hearth.

With ease, the two of you close the song together, watching each other with crinkled, happy eyes for the timing. For the last notes.

He can hardly stand how lovely you look. Or how you look at Diluc.

Have you ever looked at him like that?

He clears his throat.

When you see him, your face lights up and the way you say his name, with such warmth and adoration makes him feel worse somehow, “Kaeya!”

Immediately, Diluc’s face hardens.

“Apologies,” Kaeya says with perhaps more chill than he anticipates, “I didn’t mean to interrupt the concert.”

“Not at all,” you respond, “how did we sound?”

“Your music is lovely as usual.” Kaeya responds flippantly and you eye him for a moment, scrutinizing.

And then, slowly, you say, “then you wouldn’t mind if we play a few more? This piano does bring back fond memories for me.”

There’s a glint in your eyes; it could be the fire that favors you or a trick of the light.

And because Kaeya pretends he doesn’t care, he says, “please; don’t allow me to stop you.”

He takes a seat on the settee as far from you and Diluc as he can manage.

Diluc sets his hands back to the keys and opens with a few, small notes, “do you remember this one?” He asks you.

“How could I forget?” You laugh, “I sang this one at every party and soiree we ever had.”

And Kaeya also instantly recognizes the first chord that Diluc eases out, the tune of it like his childhood. He remembers you standing so small and young, by the piano which seemed so much larger when he was a boy. Your glowing face and sweet, little voice.

And when you open your mouth to sing this time, it’s mature and warm, lower but more distinguished.

The lyrics must come to you like from a dream, he’s sure of it.

As if it was yesterday, you sing the song of a different time, a different lifetime ago it feels like. Of late nights in this very parlor, with laughter and the clinking of glasses. A house full. A heart full.

You sing of angels and the moon in the sky, the stars, and a love from forever ago.

And really, it’s so horribly fitting for you; the song is as in love with the world as you are. How could anyone sleep, you sing, how could anyone close their eyes to the night sky? To love?

Kaeya realizes sharply that he feels as if he’s been sleeping for a very long time.

He’s turned his eyes away from the stars and love and the whole world.

And you, wonder that you are, have been desperately trying to wake him. To show him again.

The last concluding notes ring softly, hang in the air, before you are smiling and leaning onto Diluc’s shoulder, hugging his broad arm to you happily.

Kaeya looks at the two of you, the light and dark of Mondstadt. The joy and pride of the city, so beautiful in the fire.

How could he ever compare to the two of you?

“Kaeya, did you remember that one?” You ask suddenly, turning to face him.

He somehow manages to unstick his voice, and lies, “not really.”

After a moment, a heartbeat where you seem to see right through him, you ask, “shall we go home?”

Yes, he wants to say. Let me take you home. Let me take you away.

Instead, he says, “I’m hardly in a rush.”

You stand from the piano bench and saunter over to him. Diluc turns to watch as you come to stand between his legs, peering down at him.

“I missed you today.” You say honestly, “were you busy?”

Kaeya won’t return the sentiment in front of Diluc. In fact, he’s surprised that you’ve come this close in front of him at all. He thought this was supposed to be between the two of you and no one else.

Selfishly, he wants to keep it that way. He wants you all to himself.

Kaeya glances at his brother, then back to you. Diluc’s eyes narrow fractionally in suspicion as Kaeya says, “very, unfortunately.”

You tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. Your fingers drift then, hovering around his jaw like you might touch him more. You don’t. You say, “let’s go home, then.”

You offer him your hand and when he takes it to stand, you don’t drop it. You tuck up against his side. Kaeya feels something wobbly and fragile take a few, tentative steps inside of him, like a newborn fawn.

How strange, he thinks, to imagine you as openly his. How strange, to have your genuine affection, your genuine adoration.

“Thank you for playing with me, Diluc,” you say with a smile, “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother today.”

“You’re never a bother,” Diluc promises like the gentleman he is, “and I am always charmed to play the piano beside you.”

Diluc glances down at your interlocked hands. You let him look. Kaeya fights the urge to pull away and create distance. You squeeze his hand. You say to Diluc, “perhaps we should throw a soiree, the way our parents used to. I miss being in the manor. And then we can play for everyone again.”

Everyone except the ghosts, Kaeya thinks, their faces pale in his eyes.

Diluc seems as wary as Kaeya is, for once, but it is so hard to deny you. Kaeya knows that well.

As if to sweeten it, you let your head tip onto Kaeya’s shoulder, cuddling up to him even closer, “I think it’d be great fun. A reason to come together again.”

Diluc meets Kaeya’s eyes briefly and he can already feel the scolding he will receive. He can already feel Diluc’s doubt and judgment. But instead of starting a quarrel, he says to you, “Perhaps we can arrange something.”

And really, Kaeya thinks it's a testament to how charming and lovely you are.

You bid Diluc goodnight, sweet as ever, and lead Kaeya out by the hand.

He can feel Diluc’s gaze burning into the center of his back.

And the moment you pull him around the corner and out of Diluc’s eyesight, you turn and suddenly pull him down into a deep, slow kiss.

Kaeya’s eyes flutter in surprise and immediately, he attempts to pull away from you. It’s one thing for Diluc to see the way you held his hand, it’s another thing entirely for him to catch the two of you like this.

You hardly let him get a word out, before you’re pulling him back down into a dirtier, heavier, more desperate sort of kiss.

He yields with a soft, surprised noise of wanting. He kisses you back, just as dirty, just as desperate—tongue licking into your mouth, heat stoking to life along the nape of his neck, the curve of his spine.

When you pull away, he manages to get out, “well. Hello to you, too.”

You smile, wide and lovely. “I did miss you.” You say again, as if you know you have to convince him, and that he never believes you the first time. And still, he thinks you must be lying. You’d never miss him.

But you lean up onto your toes to get him to kiss you again; which he does. Easily, happily. It’s gentler than the previous, a little more content, though no less heated. He draws you closer, as close as you can get. His tongue dips gently into your mouth, deep and hungry and exploring. He feels the fabric of your dress bunch up beneath greedy hands, pulling at them, pawing at you.

A cleared throat.

The two of you jump apart, whirling around to face Diluc in the entryway.

He does not look pleased.

Kaeya, for once, feels like a younger brother again, caught red handed. He opens his mouth for some strange excuse, but you beat him to it;

“We’re taking our role as a couple very seriously. Archon forbid the Fatui question our legitimacy.”

Kaeya can’t help the laugh that barks out of him, before Diluc’s glare forces him to clear his throat and compose himself.

“I can see that.” He says dryly.

“It was my fault,” you then add, “Kaeya is, for once, blameless. I’m a bad influence.”

“I highly doubt that.” Diluc drawls, “he’s never blameless.”

Kaeya opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it again.

“We will truly be taking our leave now.” You then say, tugging at Kaeya’s hand, “goodnight, Diluc!”

The door slams hard behind you.

Kaeya looks at you, your back to the door, chest heaving a little. You look back at him.

And then you burst into laughter. He shakes his head, but he can’t stop the smile that comes onto his face. The laugh of disbelief.

“Diluc is going to kill me,” he finally says, “I can’t believe you.”

“Oh,” you coo, striding past him, “should I protect you? Diluc is harmless.”

Kaeya laughs again, though this time it’s dryer, not as funny, but more ironic.

Well, he has an eyepatch to certainly prove otherwise. You must catch onto his shift in mood, because you take his hand again and assure him, “I’ll deal with Diluc, if you’d like.”

“No,” Kaeya says, “no need to fight my battles.”

“I did get you in trouble.”

“Well, that I can’t deny.” Kaeya agrees with a smile, slipping his hand around your waist and this time, he knows it is real. Realer than ever before.

The stars are bright above your heads. The moon is full and shining like a coin and casting you in its soft light. Your eyes are crinkled in delight.

“You’re also a liar,” you add and Kaeya pauses, looking at you.

It strikes a strange note in him.

You continue, “I thought you said you weren’t the jealous type?”

Kaeya’s brows prick upwards, “did you think I was jealous?”

“Kaeya,” you say his name warmly, with love, “I could feel you glaring a hole into the back of our heads while we were at the piano.”

Kaeya laughs, but it’s rather hollow, “I’m not the jealous type, my dear. I’m sorry to disappoint. Did you have fantasies of being ravished by me in a jealous rage?”

It’s a little barbed.

If you notice (which you do), you don’t take his bait.

“Well, now that you say it…” you tease, walking backwards and in front of him, a sly little smile on your lips.

Kaeya shakes his head, “there’ll be no ravishing.” He promises, “I’m being a gentleman.”

“Hm,” you hum lightly, “and how long do you plan to keep that facade up?”

“It’s not a facade–” he starts to protest, but your hand is winding in the front of his shirt to pull him back into your orbit.

You pull him into a hard kiss.

This one is more desperate. Heavier. Hotter.

He sees what game you’re playing.

The walk home, in Mondstadt’s streets, for everyone and the moon to see, is a game of cat and mouse. Kissing hard and soft, slow and fast, against brick walls and wooden fences. Leaning into shadows and sharp, little gasps. Teasing kisses along the jaw, before slipping away, and back into the night.

You manage to lead him right up to the threshold of his bedroom.

He takes a stance here, roots himself down. He swallows hard—he has to steel himself, he knows.

So he goes no further than the arch of the doorway, no matter how much you pull at him, or kiss him or tease him. And as hard as it is, he doesn’t even sway when you gaze up at him with that look in your eyes; dreamy and enamored.

You look at him like he could be a great man.

It’s absolutely horrifying. His heart jumps in his chest. He can feel as if he can hardly breathe.

“You really won’t sleep with me?” You ask, lips hovering just beneath his. His hands are latched tight to the doorframe of his bedroom as to stay them. To keep his resolve.

Kaeya shakes his head, “I’m a gentleman.”

You let go of a tired sigh, “I don’t need you to be one.”

He swallows hard.

“I’m afraid I need to be one.” He answers.

“I didn’t take you as chaste.” You murmur, kissing at the corner of his mouth, his cheek. All that warmth comes rushing back to him.

“Hardly,” he scoffs reflexively, allowing you room at his throat, down the length of his neck. “But I am trying to preserve–”

He stalls, when he feels your tongue at his pulse.

You blink up at him innocently and supply, “you’re trying to preserve–?”

He clears his throat, “some level of professionality. Dignity, maybe.”

Protection, too, though he isn’t sure anymore if it’s for you or him. Perhaps both.

The only way he sees this ending is poorly–he cannot foresee a current future where you don’t end up disappointed and hurt by him. He cannot see a future where you don’t leave for your own good.

And besides, all things must end, he knows, all people must leave or be left behind.

He was left once and he’s vowed to never be left again, standing in the rain, shivering and young.

(He tries not to think of you—left at an altar.)

You pull away to look up at him, sweet-eyed and gentle, almost amused with him. “If you say so.”

Reluctantly and with a great deal of his strength, he leans away to put distance between you. Coldness sweeps in. He tries to appreciate it. “You should sleep. You have rehearsal early tomorrow morning.”

You step away as well. You offer him a little curtsy in jest, “as you wish, my most proper and chaste lord.”

“I’m a lord?” He asks, astonished.

“A prince?” you ask, “or do you prefer a knight? We can roleplay, if you’d like–”

“Goodnight!” Kaeya announces then, reaching for the doorknob to begin swinging the door closed, to put distance between whatever it is growing between the two of you.

You laugh, though, so warm and wonderful at his antics that he just can’t help it; he kisses you once more, soundly, goodnight.

And this time, he says it gentler, lower and sweeter in a way he knows makes you shiver, “goodnight, princess.”

He watches you fluster, the way you blink up at him. And now it’s his turn to laugh, low and soft and hot, before he quickly swings the door the rest of the way shut. Locking you on the other side of it. Far from his reach.

Lest he do something horrible.

Lest he want you too greatly.

But when he lays down on the couch to sleep that night, he realizes he can hardly sleep at all–and, really, he thinks, who could sleep at all? With the night sky like diamonds, and the way you kiss him like you have everything to lose, and everything to gain.

Like he could be desired to keep.

How could he sleep at all? When there is a door between the two of you? And the world hums and glows and shifts, right from underneath his feet.

How could he sleep? He hears you sing, around and around in his mind, at the piano of his childhood, and the one tonight, a lifetime later.

***

Finish the rest on Ao3 ->

a/n: this act was too long to post on tumblr in full and i would've had to split it into three separate posts. i figured linking ao3 would be easiest to finish reading :)) thank you for reading!! let me know your thoughts!! <33

#kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya alberich x y/n #kaeya x reader #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x you #cielo writes!#cielo's writing!#cielo collabs!#my heart your song

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edenfenixblogs · 9 months

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I don’t put my long posts about antisemitism under a read more because I don’t want it to be easy for y’all to ignore.

It is vital that y’all know we are living under a very real and very constant stochastic threat, not even including the Israeli Jews who are living under both stochastic and non-stochastic threat right now.

The only posts about antisemitism that I ever put under a read more are things that discuss the Holocaust in any level of detail, because it is extremely traumatic for Jews, still. Jews should have the right to avoid that content without having to hide all content about antisemitism in general.

Those posts are hidden under read mores for the benefit of Jews.

I wake up fearing the antisemitism I will experience every day. Yesterday, as I sat down to dinner with my family, I received a direct message from someone who would have very much preferred that I was not alive.

I sat through the whole dinner just thinking “wow. Someone actually wants me, personally, dead.”

Any website I go on. Any time I turn on the news. Any conversation with friends.

It’s inescapable. I’m either actively processing recent antisemitic attacks and rhetoric or on high alert for the next attack likely to occur.

It’s actual psychological torture. It is actually psychologically damaging to be this scared all the time. Especially while everyone outside my community (obviously not including Palestinians and all groups affected by Islamophobia, who I’m sure are also dealing with the exact same thing) is just living in a normal world. And I’m constantly gaslit about it.

I haven’t been able to sleep until 4am for the last several nights. I’m tired physically and emotionally. I’m scared. I want this war to be over. I want Palestinians to have equal rights. I want people to leave us all alone.

I need the hostages released and the bombings in Gaza to stop. Netanyahu’s ruthless response is making Jews all over the world less safe and obviously harming Palestinian civilians. It’s all so big and overwhelming and constant and I don’t get to look away, because people are literally advocating for the elimination of my entire people as a way to prevent the elimination of another culture.

None of this will stop until we are all on the side of achieving peace.

Here’s some ways to help Palestine: https://www.tumblr.com/edenfenixblogs/736824311149707264?source=share

Here’s some more great charities focused on individual groups you may want to help as well as ones devoted to facilitating peace.

Next time you want to spew hate at a Jewish person try donating or volunteering with a cause that will actually help Palestine AND not hurt anyone else.

Remember, we make peace with our enemies not with our friends. If you hate me that much, try even harder to find common ground.

I don’t get to look away.

You don’t either.

#antisemitism #anti zionisim #leftist antisemitism #Zionism #I/p #israel #Palestine #where to donate #how to help

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ipsen · 1 year

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Eto Character Analysis

Big long post coming. Couldn’t help myself.

Admittedly, I’m mostly stealing from this post from the old ages (it’s crazy good and turned Eto into my favorite character), so you can read that and honestly get the same information. But I figured I’d take a swing at the behemoth myself.

Also wanna preface the analysis with the fact that I’m using the official translations as my source, as I can’t access the original scans and also couldn’t read them even if I did (cursed by monolingual tendencies).

Under the cut!

Eto is, unfortunately, a character that is built mainly on subtext crammed into very few chapters. Figuring her out is very difficult and a lot of her more nuanced traits can go over most people’s heads (it’s easy to call her insane, for example, and while she does have a few issues up in the old cranium, i’d hardly call her that).

The most important thing about Eto to keep in mind when discussing her is that she has been failed, and as a result of that, she also believes that she has failed those around her.

Her father left her in what is basically a literal shithole, especially for a baby. Her mother, though she died without really knowing Eto, did leave a journal behind, and Eto’s singular insight to the work regarding herself is that she is just a “byproduct,” and her foster parent got killed (presumably) protecting her from V, punting her to an orphanage where she’d have to steal money to survive (see: re 62), and presumably pretty often at that.

She got insanely lucky with the writer gig and shiono, who-- side note-- means a lot to her. Finally, a positive adult figure in her life! Unfortunately, he is a) only human, and b) her editor/coworker, so his positive influence, while welcome, is limited. still, she picks up his cute little hand gestures and I, personally, appreciate that (see: re 62 and compare it to TG 114).

Just the greatest.

Where was I... Ah, Eto being failed by those around her. And where does that leave her? Look no further than TG 98:

“A replacement is merely a replacement.” Eto doesn’t believe in found family, because she never actually found one.

And within the context of this chapter, we learn another thing about Eto. Whenever she interacts with someone and “breaks” them (the Yasuhisas, Kanae), she heavily projects onto them (because she recognizes their situation; notice how she only ever targets people who are both relatable to her and weaker than her) and breaks apart the “lie” the target tells themself, even if it isn’t entirely accurate:

(re 43) This is a false statement; Kanae does wish for Shuu to recover, he’s just upset it’s happening like this. Because who wouldn’t be, in his situation? Despite everything that he and the others did for Shuu, the only thing able to bring him out of his depression is the very thing that caused it. But I digress.

Back on track, there’s also Haise’s analysis of her work, the most personal thing she has, to consider when discussing her in re 39:

Once again, the void rears its ugly head.

Hopelessness. Emptiness. Filling it with anger and bitterness, and it’s never enough, but it’s all she has. Because the void can only be filled by the things she can never have.

So she throws herself at the CCG, banging her head against its walls with small raids alongside some fellow ghouls and then taking on the special investigators by herself. She’s 14, she’s a kakuja, and she’s mad. Mad at the world that failed her, mad at V for making it the way it is, and mad that things haven’t changed for a very long time. She has Ukina’s journal; she knows how stale the “narrative” is.

Of course, her raids don’t work very well, but she’s basically just a kid. She is as old as Hinami during TG.

Then, she’s finally thrown a bone, and is worse off for it:

Something I’ve noticed when factoring Arima’s influence into Eto’s character is that there is an assumption that the power dynamic between them is equal. It isn’t. I cannot stress this enough; there is a hierarchy at play here, and Eto isn’t the one on top. How do we know this?

(TG 139)

(re 52)

Kaneki was the new toy to replace Eto, the old one.

The ultimate plan is “the One-Eyed King will destroy the egg of V’s world and make something new.” By the time Kaneki does take the throne, this plan has been going on for 13 years. Kaneki was chosen as a candidate at the ten-year mark; he had to have been a non-factor before then. So who is left to become the king instead?

Eto.

The age difference between her and Arima is roughly 4-5 years. Remind you of another relationship?

(TG 14)

Uh-oh.

To reiterate, Eto is a 14-year old kid who has been abandoned by everyone who could possibly love her the way she wants. She desires parental love, protective love, the kind of love that makes her feel safe, when she has only ever fought to defend herself.

Enter someone who is far stronger than she could ever be, someone who could actually offer her the protection she so desperately wants. Unfortunately, Kishou Arima is the endgame mindset of Black Reaper Kaneki, to put it simply: someone who is impossibly distant, wants to die, and craves the approval of everyone.

Let’s expand on Arima for a brief moment. “Craves the approval of everyone,” specifically. He is both the One-Eyed King and the greatest ghoul investigator that ever lived. He doesn’t pick one or the other, and when he dies, he doesn’t have to pick. He is mourned by the CCG, and Kaneki, ever a puppet in someone else’s game, carries on his legacy and “wish“ for coexistence.

Eto is no exception to his godly levels of charisma. She is one of Hinami’s foils, and we know how quickly and easily she latched onto Kaneki. It’s safe to assume that something similar happened with Eto and Arima.

And Eto failed him. She doesn’t become king; someone else does. Someone very similar. And yet, when faced with this new person:

(re 56)

Well, then.

Eto also does everything in her power to give Kaneki the information he needs to break the eggshell. She freely gives away information about V, the Washuu’s involvement with them, the connection to the CCG, everything. Or as much as she can give him while under Cochlea’s surveillance.

So what’s the game here? Why does she support Kaneki, the one who basically stole Arima's approval, something everyone around him wants, from under her nose? Better yet, why is she aiding the search for her “replacement” in the first place? Because remember, even before Kaneki registered on her radar for a candidate for the OEK, she and Aogiri were searching for Kanou, the one-eyed ghoul maker specialist man. Aogiri wanted to use Kanou to make as many possible candidates beyond just Kaneki. So even without Kaneki in the picture, Eto wants a replacement. She wants this. Why?

Well, here’s what I think she actually wants:

(re 53)

There’s no other explanation that I can think of for why she would willingly get herself arrested and leave Aogiri to be fully exterminated on Rushima (the One-Eyed Owl totally could have turned the tables of that battle). She’s only lived as long as she has because she doesn’t want to leave anything unsaid. This is also the reason why she reveals herself as a ghoul as Takatsuki; she’s effectively destroying her own career while simultaneously giving V a huge middle finger.

This desire to close off everything she’s built up until now and pass the torch to Kaneki is also represented in her haircut; she’s literally shedding her burdens to give to someone else. Someone similar to her, but kinder than her. Better than her.

(re 52)

I’ve said what I’ve come to say. Thanks for reading!

#tokyo ghoul #eto yoshimura #sen takatsuki #tg meta #tokyo ghoul meta

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the-ninja-legacy-whip · 2 months

Note

Lloyd’s upbringing in your fic fascinates me. I wanted to ask if he was able to interact with literally anyone else but his mom, and how often he was allowed to actually leave the apartment and be outside, bc from your fic’s implications he a) only meaningfully interacted with his mother, and she was apparently often absent both physically and emotionally, leaving him alone often and b) he left the apartment like once a month maybe. The fact that his mother, an authority figure, was his only constant form of human interaction must have had such an impact on his development, not to mention the lack of variety in settings. What did he think of the shows he must have watched, seeing characters make friends? What did he think of normal kids getting to make friends and go places without having to dress up and hide? I imagine he must have been so jealous and confused. Idk just thinking ab the psychology of a child who was isolated from the entire world for 13 years straight. If you wanna use this ask to expand on it pls do

He was 'literally allowed to interact' with other people, it just...usually never went well. I actually have (read: had, ofc now that I need it I CANT FIND IT) a whole deleted flashback scene from Book 2 where Koko takes him over to another apartment for him to be babysat/have a playdate, buuuuut he winds up biting the other child (even though Lloyd did it in self-defense due to the other child bullying him for his looks). But beyond that, interaction with others didn't not happen, it was just exceedingly sparse (and almost never without Koko around, which I think is something Lloyd mentioned at one point or anther—)

It is true that his mother was his most consistent source for of interaction, and Koko being Koko really did try to give him as much to work with as she could—it's why he's so smart but so awkward with his approach at time (luckily he has a little green element empathy to push him in better directions, usually). And yes, they had their monthly visit to the markets, but she'd take him to parks and the movies and stuff like that when it wasn't too busy, but those experiences also thinned out as Lloyd got older and she got busier, which we know Lloyd is resentful of.

But yeah—if you were constantly shown glimpses and only heard in stories about what life was "supposed" to be like and you were only ever tempted with the occasional chance to get to experience any of it, you'd be jealous and downright pissed too (especially when your own mother wouldn't tell you why)! Outside of the Garmadon thing, it's the other reason why Lloyd ran away (and why he's still mad at his mom/doesn't want to go back to her)—he couldn't take it anymore, and even though he hardly had any idea of what he was doing, it was still better than *drumroll* being stuck in a cage! Even if Darkley's was a primarily bad experience for him, it was still an experience (if not his first real one he made himself; hence why so many characteristics he picked up from there still stick with him and why he gives the students there the benefit of the doubt later on in Book 3)

...As early as the next chapter ,Lloyd even thinks to himself that despite all the bad that's happened (and is currently happening to him) that this is the first time in his life that he's ever actually lived—

And that alone makes him smile.

(really, how ironic, to be a 'master of life' and yet never having the chance to 'master' it at all)

#buuuuuut yeah *pats lloyd's head* there's a lot to unpack here #once we get the grand koko confrontation OOOOOOH ITS ON SIIIIIIIGHT #*rolls around barking*#i think i have a whole chapter dedicated to just digging into how this all spiraled so badly hnnnnnnng #but that's way later T-T)9 #info tag #lloyd garmadon #misako montgomery garmadon

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spicy-picklez · 2 years

Text

Rainbow after a Storm (P6)

Includes:

What y’all have been waiting for. 🤭 heavy sex scenes, praise kink, marking kink, possession kink. Mentions of rape.

Characters:

Larissa Weems x Fem!reader. (Principal x student)

Summary:

Y/N and Larissa’s relationship continues to flourish, the two of you dialling up the heat after Y/N’s first visit back to Jericho after the incident.

Word Count:

3.4k

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A/N: The GIF is me after reading what I just spent all day writing. 🤭

Also, a great song to write smut scenes to is Devil Devil by MILCK. I had it on repeat writing the last part.

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A clattering sound on the floor causes your eyes to open. A quiet ‘fuck’ is muttered above you, Larissa’s hand still playing with your hair. Lifting your head, you look for the source of the noise, rolling over to pick her phone up off the ground. “Thank you, love.” She whispers as you snuggle up back into her lap. “What time is it?” Your after-sleep voice is enough to make Larissa’s core burn with desire. “Uhh, 5.17pm. I was just about to pop down to Jericho to get us some burgers.”

“Can I come?” Your voice was quiet, she wasn’t even sure if she heard you properly. “Are you sure, love?” Her hand gently places itself under your chin, tilting your head to look at her. You nod. “I can’t go for the first time on my own and you make me feel safer than anyone else.” A soft smile grows on her face as you say this.

“Alright love, if you change your mind when we get there, it’s ok. Don’t rush it.” She says as you get up, going to grab a shirt. As you rummage through your clothes, you find a white shirt with a black skull and flowers design. “Good enough.” You pull it on, tucking it into your pants as you reach for your belt. Soft hands on your waist, turn you around and Larissa’s lips meet yours. You sling your arms over her shoulders as both your lips move as one.

Pulling away from the kiss, a smile is evident on both of your faces. “What was that for?” You chuckle. She shrugs, a grin pulling at her lips. “Couldn’t help myself. Is that your way of complaining?” You shake your head, pulling her into another kiss. “Not at all Riss.”

She steps away, keeping her hand on the small of your back. “Shall we, my darling?” A grin spreads across your face. “We shall.”

The entire drive to Jericho, her hand rests on your thigh, lazily drawing symbols with her index finger on your skin. Switching the playlist to Chase Atlantic, she smiles as your eyes light up. “I bet you feel it now baby, especially since we’ve only known each other one day.” She relaxes into her seat, basking in the sound of your voice.

As you pull into a car park, she looks at you, taking off her seatbelt. “You ready?” Your hands are oddly sweaty as you nod, giving her a comforting smile. “Just, don’t leave my side please.” Giving your thigh a gentle squeeze, she nods. “That will never be an option.”

Opening your door, you take a deep breath before stepping onto the sidewalk, falling into step next to Larissa. You can see the alleyway from the other day a couple of hundred metres ahead. As you pass the Weathervane, your steps slow down, seeing the events replay in front of you. You stop at the top of the alleyway, blankly staring at the spot behind the dumpster as tears fill your eyes. Larissa turns around as she realises you’re not by her side. Her eyes water as she sees you, fiddling with the small charm on your necklace, chewing on your lip. She slowly walks up to you, looking down the alleyway.

Her heart breaks seeing you like this. She quickly shifts her form to a young blonde woman. “Darling…” She whispers, just from seeing her tearful blue eyes you can tell it’s her. She pulls you into a hug, her familiar Heat Kissed scent grounds you. “I wish I didn’t have to shift to be able to hug you in public.” She whispers as she rests her chin on your head.

You nod against her skin. “While you look gorgeous now, nothing can compare to the beauty of your true form Riss.” Tears fall down her face, she didn’t realise how much she needed to hear those words- no one has said them to her before. You smile, gently wiping her cheeks free of tears. “There’s no one else I’d want to be here with right now.”

Stepping back from you, you see Larissa shift back into her true form. “Absolutely breathtaking.” You murmur, as her cheeks turn red, an embarrassed smile appearing on her face. “Let’s go my darling, standing here staring isn’t doing you any good.” You nod as you fall back in step with her. “I- I saw it all happen again. But it wasn’t me getting raped, well it was, but I was just watching it. Somehow watching it happen hurt me more than when it actually happened.”

“Oh hun, I’m so sorry.” She whispers, tears forming in her eyes again. Her heart ached seeing you so upset, knowing she can’t even hug you. You shake your head, a saddened smile pulling at your lips. “Don’t be. It’s actually helped me. I’m glad I came, I can’t hide from Jericho forever.”

“I know, it doesn't mean it doesn’t hurt any less. It hurts me knowing I can’t hug you in such a public place, it was risky enough shifting form before.” She takes a shaky breath as you walk up to the line at the burger stand. “Go have a seat, I won’t be long.” You nod, you weren’t going to have a seat though. Laying eyes on a shooting game, you walk over. “How much to play?” The muscular guy looks you up and down sceptically. “$2 for 6 shots. If you hit 3 out of the 5 targets then you win a prize. I wouldn’t bother trying if I were you sweet-cheeks.” Pulling out your wallet, you place a $2 coin on the counter, accepting his challenge. Picking up the nerf gun, you take a look at your targets, each decreasing in size. The biggest being an empty bottle of 1.5L Coke, smallest being a bottle cap.

Holding up your arm, you fire 5 consecutive shots each hitting their target with a twang. Turning to him, you fire another shot, the nerf pellet sticking to his shirt directly where his heart is. “Sorry, I thought this would’ve been hard.” He doesn’t say anything as he pulls a gigantic unicorn plushie off of the prize wall. A satisfactory grin on your face, you wrap your arms around it to hold it. “Next time don’t be a misogynistic, sexist prick and maybe I won’t shoot you.”

You walk off, leaving a stunned look on his face as you do. Larissa is collecting the food as you walk back to the burger stand. Turning around, she’s left speechless as she sees you carrying a fluffy white unicorn half the size of you. “Y/N… darling… how on earth did you manage to get a kid sized unicorn plushie?” Her eyes sparkling with amusement at the sight. “I shot the owner of the game stands.” Her face drops as you say this, making you laugh.

“I’m kidding Riss… kinda. I saw the shooting game, I had to hit 3 out of the 5 targets with 6 shots in my gun. I got all 5 targets on the first try so I shot the guy to use my last nerf pellet.” She sighs, using her free hand to rub her temples. “Y/N, you can’t go around shooting people for fun.”

You can’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Why not? He eye raped me then told me I should save my money coz I wasn’t going to get it. He got what was coming to him.” A smile pulls at her lips as you say this. “That’s my girl.” She lets out a chuckle as you fall into step with her, the both of you heading back to the car.

The minute you get in the car, she reaches across to cup your face. You lean towards her, placing your hand gently on her hips as your lips brush against hers. The electricity that runs through your veins the moment your lips meet, pools in your stomach, making your core hot with desire. Her tongue runs over your lower lip as the kiss deepens, your tongue fighting hers for dominance. Your hand trails down her side, gently brushing over her hip, making her let out a breathy moan. The angelic sound makes you want more of her. You pull her lower lip into your mouth, gently grazing your teeth over it, earning another moan from her.

You’re at the point where you’re uncomfortably wet and you can tell by Larissa’s moans and adjustment of her legs, that she is too. “Fucking hell Larissa.” You groan as she breaks the kiss, both of you gasping for air. You both close your eyes, her hand still on your face as you lean your forehead to hers, her thumb gently brushing over your cheek. She grins. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.” You’re unable to get words out so you resort to a giddy grin and gentle nod. Still breathing heavily, she breaks apart from you, turning the car on and placing her hand on your thigh as she drives away.

Pulling into the Nevermore grounds, you twist back to grab your unicorn off the backseat. She lets off a chuckle as you are forced peer around the side of the fluffy teddy to see. “What?” You grin. “You look adorable darling.” She says, a soft smile on her face as she looks at you in adoration. A blush spreads across your face as she parks the car. Hiding behind the teddy, you get out of the car.

She grins, grabbing the food off the backseat before following you up to your room. “Watch the steps.” She calls out as your foot catches on the first one, sending you flying forward. Somehow managing to save it, you make it up before the rest of the steps before turning around grinning. “What steps?” You laugh, giving her a cheeky wink. A smile pulls at her lips despite the unimpressed look she’s trying to give you.

Managing to make it back to your room without any other near misses, you place the plushie down in the corner behind the door. Opening Netflix on the TV, Larissa flops down onto the couch handing you your burger. You sit cross legged on the couch as she puts on Trailer Park Boys. “Wait, you know this series?” You say, turning your head to face her as she pauses mid-bite, her eyes darting up to yours. Quickly swallowing, she nods. “Guessing you know it too?”

“It’s my comfort show, I always rewatch it when I don’t know what else to watch.” You grin, taking a bite of your burger as you flick your eyes back to the show.

After you finish eating, Larissa pulls you back towards her, your head resting on her chest as she wraps her arms around you. “Did you mean what you said before?” You look up at her, confused. “What?” She takes a deep breath. “Back in Jericho, you said nothing can compare to the beauty of my true form… did you mean it?” You reach your hand up to cup her cheek. “Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? Every time I lay my eyes on you, I can’t stop myself from staring. You are by far the most gorgeous woman I will ever meet. I’ll spend every goddamn minute of every goddamn day telling you all the reasons as to why you take my breath away if I have to.”

You gently place your lips on hers, soft and tender. Your tongue gently runs over her lips as she moans into your mouth, a smile pulling at your lips. Your hand runs down her side, reaching the hem of her skirt. Breaking the kiss, you look up at her. “Can I?” She leans her head back. “Please…” She breathes, her chest rising and falling heavily as you grin, using your knees to lift your body up, gently kissing her along exposed neck up to just behind her ear. Your hand slowly pulls her skirt down, letting your skin softly brush against hers.

“Y/N…” A growl rises in your throat as your name rolls off her tongue in a breathy moan. Your hand trails back up the inside of her leg, your fingers gently rubbing up and down her slit from outside her soaked panties. “Fucking hell Riss you’re soaked.” You gently pull her panties down, positioning yourself in between her legs. Slowly kissing up her thighs, you flick your tongue out, licking the skin where her leg connects to her soaking cunt. Her back arches as she lets out a heavenly moan. “Y/N, please..” You feel yourself drip as she says this, your cunt throbbing with desire. Indulging her request, you gently blow on her clit before taking it in your mouth. Her hands tangle themselves in your hair as you moan against her clit. “You taste divine Riss.”

You slowly rub circles over her clit with your tongue, smiling as a string of moans sounds from her. Her back arches, trying to get more pressure on her clit. “Calm down my love.” You grin as you trail your fingers over her entrance, tongue still moving agonisingly slow over her clit. The sounds of her wet cunt are deliciously sinful as you slowly push two fingers into her, speeding up with your tongue on her clit. “Oh fuck…” Her moans spur you on, needing to hear more of her. You focus in on her clit, quickly flicking your tongue over it as your fingers curl into her. The arch in her back let you know you found her g-spot.

You let your fingers speed up the pace, her moans filling the room as she grasps your hair, her legs beginning to quiver as you bring her closer to the edge. Slowing down the speed of your fingers, you trail your mouth up her body, your free hand reaching at her top. “Off. Now.” She is quick to obey pulling it over her shoulders as your hand quickly unclasps her bra. Your eyes run up and down her body, taking in every last detail of her figure. “You’re so fucking gorgeous my love.” You whisper as you gently bite down on her breast, your tongue quickly running over it as you suck hungrily at her skin.

The purply-red mark shows up almost immediately as you pull your lips away from her skin. You bring her nipple into your mouth, gently sucking before beginning to write with your tongue. She lets out a gasp as she realises what you were spelling. Mine. “Who do you belong to?” You murmur, switching your attention to her other nipple, spelling the exact same word. “You, only you.” She moans as you grasp her nipple between your lips and gently pull. “Good girl.”

These words make her so desperate for you, her hips grinding against your hand which is still curling in and out of her. You increase the speed, rubbing your palm over her clit. “Y/N…” She moans, her eyes flying shut. “You’re so gorgeous.” You breathe before placing your lips on hers. Running your tongue over hers, she moans at the taste of herself in your mouth. As you curl your fingers into her g-spot, her body shakes underneath you as she finally lets go. Releasing over your fingers, she moans into your mouth, swearing she could see stars in her vision.

Grasping her hair, you pull her head back as your mouth returns to her neck, biting and sucking, causing another hickey to form. Working her up to another orgasm, your fingers continue to thrust in and out of her. It doesn’t take long before she lets out a long string of curses. “Fuck, Y/N!” She moans out arching her back, her chest breathing heavily as she goes lightheaded. Grinning against her skin, you slow down your fingers, helping her ride out her orgasm. “Believe me now?” You murmur as she chuckles. “Mhmm but now it’s my turn.”

She puts her hand on your chest, gently pushing you backwards. A grin pulls at your lips as she crawls over top of you, putting her knee against your cunt. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips as you feel your juices leaking down your leg. Her hands grab the hem of your shirt, letting her fingers trail over your skin as she does. Unclasping your bra, she throws them both to the floor. Grabbing both your wrists in her left hand, she pins them up against the couch, her mouth placing a trail of gentle kisses from just behind your ear down to your collarbone. With her free hand, she gently flicks your nipples making you gasp with each one. She gently bites down on the crook of your neck, sucking on your skin.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to claim you as my own Y/N.” She groans against your skin as you shudder with delight beneath her. Her hand trails from your nipples down to the edge of your pants. Moving her knee from between your legs, making you whine at the loss of contact, she pulls your pants down your legs until you’re left in just your panties. Her eyes darken with lust as she takes in every inch of your body.

She finally releases your arms as she settles herself in between your legs. You can’t help the moan you let out as you feel her tongue running up the inside of your thigh. Her teeth grasp at the waistband of your panties as she drags them down your legs. Wrapping her arms under your thighs, she slowly lowers herself down towards your throbbing cunt. The feel of her hot breath against you is enough to let out a breathy moan. “Look at you darling, I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so desperate for me.” She smirks, reaching her tongue out to lick your dripping slit.

The moment she tastes you, all hopes of teasing goes out the window. She immediately focuses on your clit, desperate to taste more of you. “Oh fuck, Larissa…” It’s your turn for your back to arch as she hungrily flicks her tongue over your clit. She moans against your clit as your cunt starts leaking again. One hand grasping desperately at the arm rest behind you, the other grabbing at her hair, pushing her head closer to you.

You can feel her grin against your cunt as she slowly trails her tongue down to your soaking entrance and back up to your clit, pulling it into her mouth. Your grip tightens on her hair as a moan escapes you. She presses two fingers up against your entrance, sliding them in agonisingly slow. Your head flies back as they press up against your sensitive spot. “Fuck, Larissa…” You breathe heavily as she pulls them out before slamming them back in, her name coming out in a loud moan. She increases the speed of her fingers as her tongue still hungrily flicks your clit.

“Fuck, don’t stop.” You breathe, your body tensing as she speeds up. You’ve never once been the type to beg but as she devours your body you can’t help. “Please, Riss.” She flicks her eyes up to meet yours and the sight of her between your legs, her tongue against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, sends you over the edge. A blissful lightheaded feeling comes over you, causing your body to tremble as you release over Larissa’s fingers, her name slipping off your tongue in a loud moan. Your breathing heavy, you loosen your grip on her hair. Sliding her fingers out, she places a gentle kiss on your clit.

Reaching your hand out, you collect your juices from her chin, slowly sucking it off your fingers. She slowly stands up, reaching out her hand for you to take as she leads you over to the bed. Two of you lie under the covers in each others embrace, your hand lazily drawing symbols over her chest, outlining the hickeys on her skin. You run your thumb over the one on her neck with a cheeky smile. “Oops.” She lets a chuckle. “You say that like you didn’t mean to leave that there.”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What’s wrong with letting everyone know you’re spoken for?” You say, gently brushing your lips against hers. She grins. “Absolutely nothing, why do you think you’ve got one to match?” You grin, pulling yourself closer to her as you both sigh, closing your eyes. Both of your smiles remain on your faces as you drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

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A/N: Would you excuse me for a minute? I need to uhhh… take a cold shower and drown in a gallon of holy water.

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#larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems #woman x woman #nevermore

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