#also rare art of abyss with an actual face

[letulthi]

Low effort doodles heck yeah

[filthforfriends]

Chapter 2: Sentient

The Sun is the Center of Everything

See Author's Note (CW: addiction, hospital)

Word count: 4.7k

Damiano David x Y/n

“Dami, don’t panic. You’re okay. You’re okay, baby, I promise. I’m here. Y/n is here and you’re okay.” He startles violently and his eyes fly open, containing an unquellable panic. Dr. Williams uses a flashlight to test the responsiveness of Damiano’s pupils. That temporarily blinds him and makes the situation worse.

“Mr. David, you are in the hospital. You overdosed last night.” He speaks slowly and loudly while leaning over. You decide to sit down on the edge of the cot. Very slightly, you tilt his face towards you while leaning in close, less than a foot away.

“You recognize me?” His brow furrows and he squeezes your hand tightly. Yes, I fucking recognize you. “Just making sure.” Your thumb brushes the tape which holds the mouthpiece in place. He starts fighting the ventilator, making horrendous coughing and gagging songs that turn his face red.

“I’d really rather not sedate him,” says Dr. Williams to another physician. 

“Dami, stop fighting it.” He then jolts, trying to get away from the intubation. “Just try to breathe, baby.” At the risk of being reprimanded, you scoot in as close as possible, your hip snug against Damiano’s side. The familiarity gives him pause.

“You O.D.-ed at the club. The drugs were laced with fentanyl. You are in a hospital. You overdosed so you’re in the hospital, but you’re alive.” When you set Dami’s hand in your lap, it slides to hold your flank. The physicality was as if no time had passed. Both hands free, you cup his face and stoop so there's less than six inches between separating you. His left hand is exploring dangerously close to the tubing, which he will undoubtedly yank.

“Prepare restraints,” Dr. Williams murmurs. 

“No it's okay, I’ve got him.” You grasp Damiano’s left hand by the wrist and place it on your cheek. “I’m real. You’re really here. You’re okay. They had to put you on life support, baby.” The terror is back, but you get a hand under his hospital gown and rub Damia’s chest. “Try to breathe with it, for now. They’re getting someone to remove it. You’re okay. Shh…you’re okay, my love.” That last bit slipped out and to make matters worse, Damiano starts crying and shaking his head. Interpreting that as “no,” you begin pulling back, only for Dam to do everything in his power to bring you close again.

Just barely, you rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes because the alternative is too much. He watches you, however, the only thing that could soothe his mind after free falling into the abyss. Weakly, his left hand tucks the hair away from your face, the right rubbing your lower back. It was bliss. It was hell. It was the most grounded you’d felt in three months. It rubbed salt into every healing wound and tore open a couple new ones. 

“Okay, that's good. Keep him calm.” How ironic that Damiano was the one keeping you calm, despite having a hard plastic tube down his throat. He’d always been so damn steadying. Conversely, it was your job to keep Dami tethered to reality as he became an international rockstar and sex symbol. Coming home from tour also meant coming home to himself, the person that didn’t exist for the entertainment of others and you pulled that out from under him when he needed it most. As a direct result, Dami had almost killed himself. You open your eyes and find five years of memories staring back at you. He wasn’t just conscious, he was intact. 

“I swear to god, if you did one iota of damage to that beautiful brain of yours…” You run the back of your fingers down the side of his face. “Do you realize that by destroying yourself, you’re destroying a piece of art? That you’re ripping something beautiful and rare into a bunch of pieces and spitting on it?” You look into his teary eyes and wonder what he’d say if he could speak. After nearly dying had his answer changed? I don’t fucking live for other people! It's actually worse if they love me, do you understand that? Fame made love into a bad thing, an evil thing. Because they invent an idea of me in their head and all I can fucking do is betray that!

 Someone in scrubs peaks their head through the doorway and addresses Dr. Williams in a whisper-yell.

“Just so you’re aware Paul, we do have a very worried mother on hold who’d like to speak to you when you’re done here.”

“Tell her y/n is here and that he’s awake,” you call, momentarily looking towards the flushed nurse's assistant. Dami’s mother had far from cut off contact and not so secretly hoped that you’d patch things up after taking a bit of time. It’d make her feel better that her son wasn’t alone. She must have woken up for a run, checked her messages, and realized that Damiano was in a coma. Now, every phone call from Maneskin’s team was going to give her anxiety.

“I, um…” Dr. Williams gives a single nod of permission. “I’ll do that right away.”

“Mr. David, are you close with your family?” You sit up out of the way, lacing your fingers through Dami’s right hand so he can’t use it to wreak havoc. As soon as you leave his line of sight, he gets frantic.

“She’s right here, Mr. David. She is sitting right beside you. I just need to ask you some questions, see when we can get you off the ventilator. Okay?” He is still straining and squeezing your hand, afraid of losing the only bit of familiarity.

“Baby, I’m right here. See? You can hold onto me.” His hand does exactly that, clutching the outside of your thigh. “I’m not leaving. I’m right here.”

“Why don’t you put your hand on his face again, carefully.” 

“Tox screens,” Maria announces in a murmur, turning a computer towards Dr. Williams. He looks at it briefly and hums in acknowledgement. You take his casualness as a good sign.

“Mr. David, I’m gonna have you squeeze once for yes, twice for no.” It's actually a kind of ingenious thing to do, because it forces Damiano to keep his focus on you. He gives a single firm squeeze with both hands.

“Yes.”

“Alright, do you know where you are?” His pointer finger draws a line along your flank, then three smaller lines perpendicular to it. With the stress and sleep deprivation, it takes you a moment to realize he’s spelling something.

“E…R. Yes, exactly!” you exclaim, way too excited.

“Excellent. Do you know why you’re here?”

“O D um…question mark.” Already the nausea returns.

“That’s correct. You overdosed on fentanyl about almost 7 hours ago. Do you know what day it is?” After a moment, Dami squeezes twice.

“No.”

“Alright. It is April 24th, 2023. I’m sure you’re feeling some disorientation. Do you know who I have seated beside me right now?” Hard squeeze.

“Yes.” His pointer finger slowly traces something. “He just spelled the first letter of my name.” You’re giddy despite yourself. “When will we know if he has brain damage?”

“All I can tell you is that everything looks normal so far. Mr. David, I’m gonna list off the substances found in your blood and urine, so you tell me if you ingested them intentionally.” Even in his single squeeze you can feel the apprehension.

“Dami, do you need me to leave for a sec? Because you have to be honest right now.” There's a tense moment and he squeezes twice. “Okay, I know you don’t want me to leave, but you have to tell them the truth. You almost died today.” He holds on to you instead of answering. “Promise?” Squeeze. “Okay.” Dr. Williams’ eyes flit back and forth instead of posing a question.

“Okay…alcohol?”

“Yes.”

“Cannabis.”

“Yes.”

“Cocaine.”

“Yes.”

“Fentynal.”

“No.” You let out a sigh, but Dr. Williams clears his throat nervously. He refolds his hands.

“We also found trace amounts of heroin.” Dami squeezes once and you wait for the second squeeze, but it never comes. Heroin. 

“Y/n?” Again, a single squeeze.

“Yes.” Your voice breaks and you feel hot tears on your cheeks running down to your chin. Each face in the room pities you. A loud ringing drowns out every beep, every hushed whisper, every calmly phrased question. Heroine. When? Why? Damiano used to rant about rock stars wasting their talent, the love of their families, their futures on hard core drugs. People with addictive personalities shouldn’t experiment with addictive substances, it was so simple to him. When had that man died and what was this monster that had replaced him?

“Heroin!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?” Dami is guilt stricken and really being absolutely miserable was the least he could do given the situation. “All that stuff about stupid, selfish rock stars blowing up the lives of everyone they loved, was it all fake?” Two squeezes. “Were you trying to trick me?” Two squeezes. “Were you using our whole relationship?” Two squeezes. “But did you ever do heroin while we were dating?” One squeeze. Speechless, you try to recoil but he holds on tight. 

Had he shown signs? You don’t even know what the signs of heroin use are. It had never crossed your mind as a possibility. Like a stupid little girl, you’d been worried about alcoholism. There’d never been any needle marks, but maybe you missed it. Maybe he’d made love to you, a cry for help punctured into his skin, and you’d been blind.

“Should I have caught it?” No. “Were you miserable?” No. “Do you shoot up?” No. “Did you ever do it in our apartment?” No. “Did we ever have sex while you were high?” He hesitates at that one and you realize why. “I don’t mean when we would split a pot brownie. I mean did we have sex while you were high or heroine?” No. 

God, that was fun, getting buzzed on an edible and spending the whole day naked and laughing in bed. You still had that white fitted sheet with a mango sorbet stain. Damiano was the best person to be high with. He never got sick or messy, but would happily take care of you if the reverse happened. Now you could never look at it the same. Of course he could handle weed if he was doing heroin.

“Did you wish you were high on heroin when we were having sex?” No! He uses his whole hand to pat your leg twice, very decisively. 

“Perhaps –”

“Did you do coke when we were together?” No. “How many times did you do heroin?” Dami holds up two fingers. “Twice?” Yes.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but –”

“Of course. Sorry, continue.” Dr. Williams is merciful enough to switch the mode of communication to blinking. As soon as you were taken out of the middle, Damiano began strangling your hand, so you couldn’t leave. He had no fucking right to keep you here. Your fingers ached, all clasped together.

“You’re hurting me.” He freezes, grip loosening slightly. Yes, you could rip your hand away, self-righteous. However, Damiano was terrified and suffering enough without you exacting your ounce of revenge. He’d finally been honest and you couldn’t punish that, regardless of the betrayal. 

“Y/n, did you hear that? We have to make sure Damiano can breathe on his own before taking him off the ventilator.”

“Um…okay.”

“The respiratory therapist will be the one to make that call, Dr. Costa. She should be here shortly.” Everyone but Maria files out of the room. Leaving you with Damiano feels like being hired for a position you are far from qualified for, but at least they allow Ethan to come inside.

“What's going on?” He’s breathless and disheveled in a way that is very un-Ethan.

“He’s awake. Come talk to him.” Damiano’s eyes don’t move from your face so you search for the right thing to say that's also genuine.

“I’m really glad you’re alive. Also you are cutting off blood flow to my hand.” He releases his grip to clasp Ethan’s hand instead. “One for yes, two for no.” Now that someone else is keeping him distracted, you stand up to retrieve your purse. As soon as his hand falls from your lap, Dami is reaching for you, frantically opening and closing his fist. You climb back onto the cot, foreheads pressed together again.

“I am getting my purse to call your mom. Okay? I am not leaving. Ethan, lean over into his line of sight.” You take a deep breath after standing upright. The urge to run returns, but you ignore it, applying chapstick to keep yourself distracted. Upon returning to the bed, you put his mom on speakerphone and place it next to Dami’s ear. She answers after less than one ring.

“He’s awake?”

“Mhm, and he can hear you.” The phone call is teary. She thanks you profusely for being there to the point that you have to change the subject to stop yourself from choking up.

“I was here when he woke up. It happened just after a blood draw.”

“That makes me feel so much better.” There's a heavy pause. “You said he was awake, but is he…”

“Sentient? Yes, no signs of brain damage so far. He even rolled his eyes when they asked if he knew who the prime minister was.”

“Oh, thank god.” She sobs and Damiano winces.

“He even looks guilty right now.”

“As he should. Do you know anything else?” For a moment, you and Dami hold poignant eye contact.

“No, sorry. We’ve all been focused on Dam.” There was no point in telling his mother about the heroin, at least not now. It’d do nothing constructive. Damiano could break the news himself once extubated and discussing the next rehab program. After a copious amount of goodbyes, the end of the phone call brought a wave of exhaustion that damn near made you keel over.

“I’m gonna take a nap until the respiratory therapist gets here.” Dami pats the space beside him. “No chance, I need more than seven inches of hospital bed. There's a cot over there. I’ll still be in the room.” This time Dami points to the edge of his bed. “You really want me to drag that thing all the way over here?”

“I'll do it,” Ethan offers. Scarcely interacting with the band since the breakup had been strange. Maneskin were a constant fixture in your life for five years and then they weren’t.

“Thank you, Edgar.” With Damiano’s bed lowered all the way down, and you laying on your side, his hand could just barely touch the top of your head. Ethan turned off the lights and it occurred to you that this very much wasn’t broken up behavior. Did it really matter while he was on a ventilator? Did anything? The memories of these moments of intimacy would no doubt haunt you, from a day when context transcended relationship status.

Ethan was the one to rouse you, helping you sit upright while only half conscious. The offensive LED lights were back on and the room was full of people. Instantly, you’re self conscious and aware that time has passed.

“What’s going on?” you croak.

“They’re going to extubate Damiano. They can’t do the procedure with visitors in the room,” he explains gently. You stand upright, wobble, then focus your gaze on who must be Dr. Costa. 

“He’s okay?”

“Mr. David passed an SBT with flying colors. We are very confident that it is safe to extubate him.”

“Right, okay.” It feels as if your brain is going slower than everyone else’s. “Can I…I just say something to him, real quick?”

“Sure,” agrees Dr. Costa with a professional, but impatient smile. You place one knee on the hospital bed and lean over. Damiano is so anxious, face even more gray than when you arrived, and he’s sweating. 

“I am not leaving. You will see me in a few minutes when they’re done de-tubing you.”

“Extubating,” someone corrects.

“I will be here when they are done extubating you.” You kiss his gross forehead and stand up.

“I would recommend going down to the cafeteria,” says Dr. Costa. It seems like a genial suggestion until you end up with your hands clamped over your ears outside the hospital room. Turns out that removing a plastic tube shoved all the way down someone’s esophagus is an unpleasant ordeal. Instead of letting you back in, Maria peeks her head out and announces they’re also removing the catheter. That sounds only marginally less excruciating than the extubation.

When you re-enter, after another 20 minutes, Damiano is sitting upright, sipping a cup of water. He looks like shit. You search for signs of jaundice.

“Is his liver okay? His kidneys?”

“We’ll keep him for observation another day or two.”

“Right.” Thank god Ethan was in the room with you, because now you really wanted to grab your shit and bolt. “Did everything go okay? That sounded…brutal.”

“Unfortunately, extubation is normally an uncomfortable procedure.”

“How has his breathing been since?”

“About what we expected.”  

“What were you expecting?”

“Y/n, talk to me for god’s sake.”

“His vocal chords –”

“Y/n!”

“Agitation is a normal reaction,” Maria murmurs, making herself busy by organizing the bundle of chords monitoring Damiano. 

“Just look at me.” He’d shaved all his beautiful hair right after the breakup, but even that can’t draw your attention away from his pallor. He’s more than ready for a mugshot. 

“I’d like to know what you’re doing next. I won’t plan or enforce anything, that’s not my place anymore. I want to know for my own peace of mind.”

“We’re doing this press tour, so lots of superficial interviews and a few small scale performances.” He stares at you like this agenda should be obvious, and it is. The Maneskin itinerary isn’t what you’re talking about.

“You think you can make it through the end of this before rehab? It’s been less than two days and you almost killed yourself.” Maria slips out of the room.

“I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll test my drugs.” You’re momentarily baffled.

“‘You’ll test your drugs!?’”

“Yes.” He takes another sip of water while still holding eye contact, patronizing and hellbent on appearing in control. Except he wasn’t in control.

“You almost died, Damiano.” Ethan awkwardly takes a seat in the corner of the room

“A fact which has been made abundantly clear to me. I’m sure SME will have me back on the road again in no time.” His pessimism drips in syrupy sweet, faux positivity. It's alarming. Dami leans back, casual in a way that makes you furious. Now that he doesn’t need you, that glimmer of sincerity is gone.

“No.”

“No,’ what?”

“No, you don’t get to go from having a panic attack every moment we weren’t physically touching to being callous and distant.” This was the temperament that you broke up with and you weren’t gonna waste anymore time and heartache. The overnight bag never got unpacked, so all you had to locate was your purse and phone. Then you could leave.

“Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing? Stop, stop. Okay. Stop!” 

“Why?” you snap, snatching your phone off of the bedside table.

“Thank you.” He picks up your free hand and kisses every knuckle.

“You won’t need to test your drugs because you’re gonna get clean. No alcohol, either.” Damiano sighs heavily. Explaining something so obvious is apparently burdensome.

“Do you know why frontmen do blow? It’s because there's no other way to do all the shit that our label demands. This is the equivalent of taking steroids as a professional athlete.”

“Steroids disqualify players.”

“Didn’t always. That’s why no one can beat the records set in the 80s.” You scoff and step back.

“You’re actually justifying this. Fucking incredible.”

“I’m not justifying, I’m providing logic. That's different.”

“Really, how?”

“Even facts involve logic.”

“So it's a fact that you need coke to be a frontman? Is it a fact that cocaine use is normal?”

“In certain circumstances, yes.” After five years, you were immune to his charisma. However, Dami spoke with such confidence and certainty that it no doubt swayed others.

“I’ve seen you with food poisoning, you can’t hypnotize me, dumbass.” For a moment, he’s humbled. “Also let's talk about the heroin. How are you going to explain that away?”

“Heroin!?” Ethan exclaims, horrified.

“You’re just mad that I did it while we were together.” he sneers.

“I am not just mad because of that. I actually have an whole fucking list of reasons that you doing heroin pisses me off, starting with: its fucking heroin.”

“I was experimenting. Obviously, I’m not addicted to it, otherwise there’d be more than traces in my bloodstream.”

“I’m sorry, your excuse for doing heroin is that you don’t do it very often?” Ethan exclaims, more visibly angry than you’d ever seen him. “Damiano, no!”

“I can stop whenever I want, I’m not addicted.” 

“Then stop!!” Ethan yells.

“Fine,” he throws his hands up. “But it's not a big deal like you're making it.” He turns to you for understanding.

“Damiano, experimenting with heroin is like seeing how fast you need to drive a car for it to flip. You’re in the car!”

“Hypocrite,” he spits.

“What!? How am I –”

“You used to be all about experimenting.” It's such a stretch, that you initially don’t get it. Is he referring to taking edibles together? No, he’s throwing your entire relationship under the bus to justify using hard drugs.

 “Woah! Having safe, conscientious, and consensual sex with other appropriately aged adults is not the same as heroin.” In that moment, the how falls into place. “Ethan, can you give me a minute?” Your eyes never break contact with Dami’s.

 “Sure…” As soon as the door closes you hold back a scream.

“Are we still being honest?” Damiano gestures for you to go ahead. “Did you ever cheat on me? To be clear, cheating would be having sexual contact with another partner without –”

“I know the parameters of our relationship, y/n.”

“Fine. Did you ever violate them?”

“No!”

“Then who was it!? Who got you hooked on heroin?” For a moment he’s reeling, trying to cover up after being exposed.

“I’m not hooked!

“There is no way to take heroin recreationally, Damiano. You didn’t have opportunities to just stumble upon this, so who introduced you?” 

“I, I’m not – that’s not…it doesn’t matter.”

“Don't tell me it doesn’t –” You stop yourself from screaming, take a deep breath, and adopt a dangerously calm tone. “You know what? I’m gonna find the answer to this. So why don’t you tell me yourself?”

“So then what, fuck privacy?”

“I’m asking what kinks they – no.” At first, you’d get in these giant convoluted fights where he’d bait you and it’d work every time. After 20 minutes of screaming you’d forget what the argument was even about and all that emotional intensity would become epic make-up sex. Now you had to anticipate his words having no integrity.

“You know what, I bet…” You scroll down on the notes app until you see the name Odette in a title. “I still have one of my lists.” You kept a shortlist of everyone you were actively involved with, in case herpes or chlamydia became an issue. “I have some of these women’s numbers. Caterina and I actually got brunch a couple weeks ago. Should I call her first?” He looks trapped and it's so vindicating. “Their NDAs should cover drug use, right?”

“Don’t.”

“Or I could start with your friends. We were together for five years, Damiano. I have everyone’s number. You were a real sloppy drunk towards the end.”

“Y/n, don’t tell my friends about this,” he begs.

“Why, I thought heroin was a non-issue?”

“I met them through a previous partner,” he admits. “We had sex once and it was bad, but they introduced me to their roommate. I was already really drunk when I tried it the first time. I wanted to know what it’d feel like sober so I did it again.”

“And since?” He sighs and looks at his hands.

“I’ve done it a few times.”

“Give me a number.”

“No.” You shove your phone in your purse and grasp the handle of your bag. “Fine, four! I only do it when I’m already high and way too amped up. It's just to negate the coke.”

“What the fuck are you doing mixing heroin with other substances? Do you have a death wish!? Is that it, are you suicidal?”

“No! I don’t know,” he groans. Your chest tightens painfully. Damiano had spent two and a half years of your relationship in therapy. His intrusive thoughts started getting really dark as Maneskin gained popularity.

“You should have stayed in therapy. This all could have been avoided.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Whatever, you’re entering inpatient treatment. This hospital had a great psychiatric and behavioral care unit, but if you’d prefer a smaller facility –” “I’m not going into a psych ward, y/n.”

“Fine, rehab facility of your choice.”

“I’m not going back to rehab, either. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“You have to go to rehab!” you shout, desperately. “Because you will not die on me! If you ever, ever loved me, you would not destroy my entire life that way!” Damiano is taken aback at your outburst and the room is silent for several seconds. “Promise you’ll never do heroin again.”

“I promise.”

“Mean it!!”

“I do!”

“Go to rehab,” you deadpan.

“Stop trying to control my life, y/n!”

“I’m leaving.”

“No, don’t,” he pleads. Dami swings both legs over the side of the bed, as if to stand up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice breaks as the tears spill over. “I would have helped you. I was trying to help you.” He has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Why didn’t I tell the girl researching holistic ways to treat alcoholism that I was doing fucking heroin? Really?” You nod and pull a paper towel out to wipe your face. “Because I couldn’t bear you knowing that I was a piece of shit.”

“You’re not a piece of shit. You developed a chronic illness due to a severely stressful lifestyle, risk factors outside of your control, and probably a genetic predisposition. You are not a piece of shit, you have a disease.”

“What, SUDs?”

“Yes. How would you feel if I never got treatment for my chronic illness? If I just lay in bed, suffering, refusing to take my meds?” The suggestion makes him grimace.

“That’d be unbearable to watch,” he admits, not meeting your eyes.

“Exactly. This,” you gesture around the hospital room, “is fucking unbearable to watch. Get treatment if you want to be in my life.” His expression goes from sickened to aggravated.

“Fuck you and your ultimatums,” he bites.

“Fine.” You throw away the tissue, grab your shit, and shut the door behind you. For a couple minutes, Ethan hugs you as you sob, swaying back and forth.

“Damiano has to navigate this journey by himself, because his ego won’t allow him to receive guidance. He’s too distrustful to believe anyone’s perception but his own, as flawed as it may be.”

“God damn, I forgot how wise you are, Edgar.”

“The powers of self reflection.”

“Fucking hell,” you croak, pulling away and wiping away the tears on your sleeve. A nurse from earlier picks a box of tissues off of the counter and hands it to you.

“People are often agitated when they wake from a coma. He might be more willing to listen tomorrow.”

“Tell that to his mom.” You take a heaving breath and blow your nose. “I’m going home, this isn’t my battle anymore. We broke up three months ago.” You hand the tissue box back to the nurse and she purses her lips, obviously straining to find the right platitude.

“My sister loved an addict. There are support groups for you, too.” She pats you on the shoulder and moves on.

“I’m gonna call a cab.”

“No, let me call our car service. The vultures were beginning to circle at the front of the hospital when I arrived.” Vultures was a fitting nickname for the paparazzi.

“At a hospital of all places. Hope they get run over by an ambulance.”

“Me too.”

Notes: Well wasn't that some nice light reading! I'll be posting two chapters a week for the foreseeable future on Tuesday and Friday or Saturday (depending on how burnt out I am from the week previous). Enjoy? I guess?

-XOXO Eden

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[gierosajie]

Your art and concepts are so cool!!! I've rewatched your Istaroth and Venti animatic more times than I can count haha

I don't really have a specific question in mind but I'm curious about your Gathering of Cloudy Days au! I've seen the overview but I was wondering if there were maybe any scenes or random details you have in mind?

sbdjshgkg Glad you liked them! ^ ^

As for scenes or details- hoo boy do I have a bunch of them! There's already a few floating in the Gathering of Cloudy Days AU tag, but I'm gonna be listing some more ideas that have been floating in my head in particular

Nameless Bard could practically be considered the reason why Teyvat and humanity still exists because he went out of his way to befriend Venti despite the very real risk of getting killed for defending him. And Venti cared about him and their friends so deeply to the point that it even reached Istaroth's fragmented soul deep in the Abyss and it convinced her to give humanity another chance

Somehow the power of friendship was strong enough to stop the Abyss Order's brainwashing attempt because Venti just goes "my friend wouldn't want that for me :("

Just like Relius Clover, Dottore fell into the Abyss and it allowed him to make several breakthroughs much to the detriment of several people. Thankfully, unlike Relius Clover, he never gets laid.

Y'know how I said Venti originally had blue eyes, but because he has a fragment of Istaroth's soul, it gave him the green colors? Zhongli is probably the only one that knows about his original eye color besides the people that created Venti and Istaroth. Even Venti is unaware of it

Expanding on this scene, Venti and the Tsaritsa had been talking about what it feels like to step into the actual Abyss and the Tsaritsa was curious if her falling in there instead of Venti to look for answers would even do anything. And yes, they are standing over an entrance to the Abyss itself

Venti is fated to die, but it doesn't always happen the same. Half of his deaths involved trying to save Dvalin, but it's extremely rare for him to succeed and even then, something always happens later that ends up leading to another reset. The Traveller's interference manages to save both of them

The giant sword Venti uses has Istaroth's face sculpted on it (I don't have access to my computer where the original files are, so I can't remove Venti here, but it's just the same as her statue except with her veil also wrapping to the front)

Venti also has his bangs covering his left eye so it wouldn't be targeted as often and he'd have a back up in case someone tries to blind him again like in this drawing, which is directly after this scene I wrote

Speaking of that scene, I love how @\monarchamos called it Venti going into editor mode JSBXKSGXKF

[canmom]

assorted manga comments

Berserk is back! I imagine that will inspire some complicated feelings for Kouji Mori, but I’m glad he has the means to continue his friend’s life’s work. It is something I very much want to do for Fall - I can’t become a translator like her, although I am now making progress in Japanese, but I wish to try and keep alive her love of languages and attitude towards life. If any of my friends left an unfinished work, and I thought they’d trust me to finish it, I would want to do the same.

Anyway, these new chapters don’t really move things forward too much, but they do show that Mori et al. can hit the same incredible visual complexity that they were under Miura. Not surprising because I’m sure they were drawing a lot of the manga even before Miura died. I just hope that they’re getting to work at a reasonable pace, because one person dying of likely overwork is already far, far too many.

I started reading Fire Punch, the earlier manga by Chainsaw Man author Tatsuki Fujimoto. I also read his one-shot Goodbye, Eri. It’s very interesting seeing multiple works by the same author like this: you get a sense of what motifs they find especially interesting, which in Fujimoto’s case seems to be getting dommed by a girl who’s obsessed with movies, and characters with healing factors.

Fire Punch is a big step up in grimdark compared to Chainsaw Man - it’s rare to go a chapter without at least one of attempted (sometimes actual) rape, slavery or dismemberment. It is an amoral world where human life has become very cheap and those with power are unafraid to treat people entirely instrumentally - where people with superpowers are common but likely to be used as human batteries or sources of meat. In many ways it reminds me of the earlier chapters of Berserk, but there is a certain harsh dryness to it, in contrast to Berserk’s shōjo-influenced emphasis on emotion; characters state their desires and intentions plainly, and it focuses often on characters who treat violence dispassionately. It doesn’t yet have the dash of humour that came in with Chainsaw Man, and its action compositions haven’t quite reached the same unbelievable level, but you can see the ingredients of Chainsaw Man.

I think Fujimoto is a very interesting author; he has a deep fascination with the structures of domination and cruelty, but also a very interesting eye towards narrative structure and especially cinema. Much like the film nerd guy in Paprika, characters will talk about filmmaking in ways that will be reflected in the design of the comic itself. Both Fire Punch and Goodbye Eri feature the device of a movie-obsessed character wanting to make someone’s life into a movie by filming everything that happens; in Fire Punch she���s much more determined to direct and edit, while Eri is more of a critic bringing out the art in the main character, and it does some fun things blurring the lines of what’s ‘real’.

The visual style of all three of these manga - especially Goodbye Eri with its motion blur, and most of the panels diegetically being shot from the POV of a camera - also makes heavy reference to cinema. Fujimoto’s ‘camera’ is very cinematic: he’s very good at drawing faces in perspective from a variety of angles, which allows quite subtle body language to be conveyed. And he loves his huge special effects panels of a huge building getting smashed to pieces. But despite this, his drawings of characters - typically with minimal shading - tend to feel like they have an appealing simplicity with the very even, neat lines. He has a particular way of drawing eyes which is very characteristic, I think. I should do some studies of it. His fire effects in Fire Punch meanwhile are absolutely fantastic - incredible use of value and texture in a black and white medium.

Made in Abyss also updated - plus we have a continuation of the anime to look forward to soon so that’s exciting. It’s the start of a new arc, which seems to mean a really massive update of something like 90 pages, which bring a bunch of new characters, including a really big girl which is fun... the new guys seem surprisingly sympathetic at first glance, which means Tsukishi probably has something really horrifying waiting round the corner. That man can do some crazy things with tone and rounded shapes - the sense of depth in some of his backgrounds! The MCs are getting really close to the bottom of the Abyss, so I imagine some of those long running plot arcs might come to a head - if not in this arc then maybe in the next. Honestly I’m kind of looking forward of the anime treating the previous arc just because there were so many characters to keep track of, so a second run through would probably be good lmao.

And... It’s not manga, but also read a few pages of Finder by Carla Speed McNeill. I really want to get a physical copy, but oof, £40 per collected volume is a lot of money. I think this is definitely a series I want to be able to fully concentrate on, so expect detailed commentary on that later haha...

[phoenixduelist]

@ashortdropandasuddenstop you can't escape from the blog anniversary plot-idea rain either.

🌙 If after the duel in queen verse they actually danced as well after they calmed down🤣 and Rozy showed him the reason why she keeps pushing through life.

⚡ As years pass by, Queen Véghváry implementing the rule that she will only marry someone who either ends with a draw or defeats her in a duel. She's TIRED of everyone's shit and among the rules she doesn't forbid killing.

🌙 I simply love the idea of them getting stranded -most likely because of her- on a small island. The sheer pettiness it would ensure, the arguments, the uncertainty, the Vihar is definitely coming to rescue as they don't abandon anyone especially not Rozy. A nice element if the island gets half swallowed by the sea when the tide is rising so James gets to see a rare moment of weakness as she is utterly terrified of water. Not necessarily suffocating, but the cold wet abyss.

⚡ A different start. When they meet in Tortuga, her crew once again engaged in a fight because they are top righteous for their own good. Ferenc is about to get shot and Rozy knows she won't make it in time only for James to shoot Ferenc murderer. The Vihar crew is very closed but after such act she would be more than willing to let him join after a discussion with the others. To say that his treatment will be drastically different than on any navy or pirate ship is an understatement.

🌙 Mysterious guest stealing the spotlight and also sweeping the Admiral away from his company during a ball. Unique dress resembling to an Osiria rose with metallic silver contrasted by dark red; her name carried in the inspiration, her occupation & past in the colors. A moonlit walk, a serene moment...ultimately ruined by the one and only Jack Sparrow @winters-club

⚡James out loud declaring that no way she's saying the truth that she's a countess. And to everyone's surprise, she reflexively socks him in the face-

🌙 ☝I think she deserves an apology for the previous

⚡Body worship & exploration of her work of art tattoos.

🌙 Now this is a dark idea inspired by a video, the Vihar engaged in a naval battle, they are engaged in a duel on his ship. She is the first to spot the splintering mast coming down and decides to shove him out of the way so it crushes her instead. The battle stills as the Devil is almost dead, and actually it brings her happiness, serenity. As her last wish, she asks him to let her family go. Only he doesn't as duty comes first. I haven't figured yet how the transition would happen, but the betrayal and broken heart would make the Flying Dutchman rise, with Rozália as its captain. And I highly doubt there would be a more terrifying verse than where she has command over a supernatural ship, watched her family be slaughtered by the orders of a man whom she loved purely and gave her life for his.

⚡ On a lighter -but not so much- note, there's a small opening in her Scorched Seas verse (which's outcome is almost as worse as the possible Dutchman one), where she's in a rowboat with Marcell's corpse: if James manages to find her then, before she ultimately spirals that would be bittersweet

🌙 Let her actually aid him against pirates as she can very much be classified as a pirate hunter too.

⚡And in a separate battle, let her save him with the cost of mangling her arm in the process to show how much he actually means to her.

🌙 He could...save her once 👉👈 and deal with how terrific her PTSD is-

⚡Queen verse, many, many letters of confessions never sent but stored locked away. Never marries, not even when it would be both convenient and she could warm up to them eventually because every time she's imagining him proposing. And she can't chase that thought out of her head.

🌙 What if he does...but forced to do so in someone else's name. Oh the fury and an almost full out war declaration on England as she's sure they are aware of her feelings that's why they sent the Admiral for such cruel trick of hope.

⚡A reminder to finish the reply to the Vampire thread because it's also brimming with possibilities👀 she 💯 would attempt to maul Dracula for all that

🌙 Something regarding her modern verse? Where she's less inclined to murder only collects speeding tickets like it's a competition

[snazzi-strawberri]

Pspsps for the art ask game 4, 8, 25, 26, 30? (You don't have to answer them all!)

OH IM ANSWERIN EM ALL ARLIGHT😈😎

4.] Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

THIS FUCKIINN GUY ^^^ I love love his character design and all BUT HES SO HARD TO DRAW AND GETTING HIS FACE RIGHT IS A PAIN IN THE ASS AGHJABBHAJKSB

8.] What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

HMMmmmmm ohgosh i really need to dig deep into my brain archives here uhh in actuality i rarely lose interest in projects its that i just cant keep working consistently? and sooner or later ive thought of a new project idea and down it goes into the abyss :"]

Its not that i lost interest because id really love to work on them again its just that i cant bring myself to work on it because ive lost that flow of things yaknow?😭 [ie my tarot cards human character design series, cat butler, etc]

25.] Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

Hmm unless im forgetting here but i dont think ive ever heard someone compare my art with something else?😅

26.] What's a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended

Fortunately ive never gotten that case! >>B]]

30.] What piece of yours do you think is underrated

THIS!!!!!!! ITS FROM JUNE 2021 BUT I STILL LOVE IT ALOT 😤😤😤😤

AND ANOTHER ONE!!! This one is also SUPER old but this is during the time i was still learning how to do hair and i was SUPERRRR proud of this!!! LIKE THE WAY IT FLOWS AND THE SHADING AND SUCH IS AJkjabskjaskhkahsh YES IM STILL PROUD OF IT NOW B]]]]]

[sheviolentlyher]

no. you don't understand the definition of aphrodisiac.

No I don’t give a fuck.

Don’t show me the good in life. Please it will scar me. It will taint my psyche. I am but a sheep, coward, maiden. Those things still exist.

What do I do with the things that still exist inside my head? How do I kill memories? Are memories a curse or a blessing? Neither or nature?

I think memories live in the heart. or they are the spark, and what type of fire is up to us. we either rise from the ashes, or we burn the entire fucking house down. we make a stake and the memories become burned into our head.

do you remember the day you rose above? do you remember the first day you said I don't give a fuck?

why does he always think I need help? LOL I dont understand, do it my way or don't help. I cant help that. he told me today. " solve your own fucking problems" hahahaha. I didn't take it personal. you're right, get the fuck out.

i like to act like my life is hard. but it's not. it's life. it's soft.

however---

I'm kinda pissed off actually. in the back ion my mind, I am angry. I can feel it. and little bits of it are coming out, because I have been holding it in. I know exactly what it is. and because I know exactly what it is-- fuck--- again? what will it take to break the curse? what will it take to break that power you have over me? what will it take too cut the cord. do you want the cord cut? do you even fucking love me. you piece of shit. I swear to god, you fucking broke me, you took me apart, analyzing me with all the right words, already knowing my response and you loved seeing you work yourself through my body. you fucking coward. Id really like to put my fucking knee in your dick. I want to slap you so hard that my nails leave marks across your face, for days, and every time you look in the mirror you will forever be reminded of me because of it. I want to fucking haunt you. I want you to never sleep. I want you to keep dreaming of me while you are wide awake. I want you to suffer from my memory. I want it to teach you about yourself. I want it to make you think fucking deep, deeper than you thought even fucking possible, it makes you feel insane it's so fucking deep. abyss. abyss. abyss. I want you in the fetal positions just floating in nothingness with all the ugly and odd fish. every time someone says "make a wish" you think of me. I ground myself with the fact that you also will never be able to get rid of my memory, we will never be able to cut this cord universally. you will always compare every other woman to me. I will become a "model woman" inside you head, one that will never be met.

right now? all you need is to still on the phone, in silence with me. you just want to hear my voice and listen to how I breathe. you want me to stimulate your mind like a good loyal puppy dog, you want rewards and you want to be--- pet. You want the thrill of being on your knees in front of a real woman. adrenaline junkie. need small doses daily. need to express yourself with sex. Sex being art, art being creative, less consumption of life, more creation of life. two to tango type vibes.

what an incredibly raw entry.

rare. bleeding. raw.

things are not hard for me, things are soft. I do things that do not require me to always have guard up 24/7. I always in my natural state of softcore woman. I dont like being hardcore, but it doesn't mean I won't do it, I just said I didnt like it. It still happens to me. Where I am soft for too long and then all of the sudden I become hardcore. I can feel the shift, the duality. but now? I feel like they are working together. I stopped trying to figure out what was impulsive, I will never really know. we could label any past choice impulsive. I think being impulsive and spontaneous is the same thing. everything we do is almost always will feel impulsive because we are most definitely living in a world of routine and ritual. and ritual to America is a nice house in the suburbs, marriage, kids and wife- good schools and white crime. so what the fuck are we really doing by diagnosing "impulsive behavior" as a defect? wasn't this country built on impulse? or maybe I doing understand the depth of "mental illness" it sure seems very easy to say that anyone, or everyone is "sick" or "mental ill" because at the end of the day-- what does "ill" look like to you, you have watched enough tru crime documentaries to fucking know, I know how much Americans like serial killers. so fucking tell me-

maybe I am not exposed to enough reality, I'm only exposed to my conspiracies, which is code for imagination. I am only limited to what information is given- right? mental illness to me looks very much like a mental hospital. I immediately think of a mental hospital when I think mentally ill. because the is the way it has been shaped. rare. special. critical. but the fact that it can look like the happiest person in the world is terrifying. are we coming to that realization. is mental health normal yet? are we acting accordingly to our genuine concern.

I hate it when people sarcastically say that I am "enlightened" it's like----- what the fuck does that even mean? does that mean you recognize me as a source of power now? okay, yes, I like this rabbit hole. haha. I mean seriously, is it spiritual jealousy? we are all born free into a world of chains and things. and they all say we aren't free again until we die. so what does that tell you? that earth is either hell or purgatory. wait how the fuck did we get here? --------

am I saying too much? am I just a very good fantasy writer? or am I just shit, am I just another brain on the spectrum of all things? meh. why care? in one hundred years, no one will know me. there will no minds left on earth with my memory. so I'm going to make the best of being alive, I'm going to be me spontaneously, and hope to god that I do not live to see world war three. which makes me think- where was god? where the fuck was god? the devil is not afraid to show his face, he is not afraid to show god how proud he is to own this place, and the only thing past the blue sky is space, ive only witnessed what humans can do, I don't think I have ever witnessed what god could do. I believe humans are the gods. humans are the creator of the devil. humans are creators of god. humans are creator of the Holy Spirit. I believe we do not recognize this power just as we refuse to recognize a compliment. we just cant believe in ourselves enough, and this will be our downfall.

not me, I'm starting to believe. in me. producing my reality easily. attracting. I guess what I needed was to come on here and slang some bullshit out of my head. make room. clear the clutter. feel vulnerable until I don't anymore?

I remain what I am, a muse. for all life.

-x

[baeshijima]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫!𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐲/𝐧

A/N : i have nothing to say other than the fact there will be an excessive amount of twitch slang bc why tf not + just,,, heavy streamer!albedo brainrot ;-;

masterlist

AIGHT

streamer albedo

…

pog—

so before we get into him being whipped for u, let’s go over the type of strimmer mr Kreideprinz is

fun fact that’s his twitch name—

albedo would be the type to do lots of variety streams of different games, but also the occasional art one if he wants to have a chill stream with his chat !!

speaking of chat… they’re an odd mix of wholesome supporters, KAPPA + POGGERS + catJAM (bc he always has some bangers on in the bg like yes u bless our ears my guy) + KEKW + EZ Clap + his own emotes spammers, mr albedo’s very own shrimps (me, ahEm—), and ppl who just appreciate his voice + gameplay

if there’s a troll he just bans them OMEGALUL

omg he has lots of emotes (which he made in some of his art streams so his viewers could choose some) for every scenario but we’ll get into the popular ones in a bit 👁👁

he’s most definitely one of the bigger, well-known streamers but with a smaller group of friends

his discord server has,,, a lot of ppl,,, 70k+ ppl big,,, rip notifs if ur in it ;-;

he has it muted tho 🐥 like, sir, that’s ur server pay the goddamn price smh

wait i forgot to mention this but he has his webcam on when streaming

so u can bet ur chickens that when ppl come to visit his stream bc of whatever category he has on, they stay for his visuals and voice <33

his twt 🤡 mans gets 1k+ likes, rts, comments within the first 5-10 mins

omg he gets soft when he receives sm support from his community 🥺🥺

gifts so many subs when hitting milestones, chat is wholesome or just whenever really HJKSDHKL 

also doesn’t swear much unless he gets played by his own game and/or someone is being incredibly annoying <//3

he also just,,, eats on stream

albedo straight up takes his webcam with him to show him cooking if his viewers ask for it

or he just orders food then and there and eats while chatting to everyone or watching youtube with his chat 🥺

nOW ONTO HIM BEING WHIPPED FOR U AS A GENSHIN STREAMER

this AR55 man 👩‍🦯

he can literally produce content from anything

from artifact farming, to spiral abyss, to running around mindlessly, to building characters he would normally never build, to him seeing how high up is considered too high to dive

and everyone eats it up bc it’s albedo <3

also !! he’s the type who includes the story quests in his streams so his reaction and thoughts on everything is just,,, there

now when u were first introduced in the prologue (yes ur one of the ogs + involved in the dvalin fight <33) he blanked and all his viewers could see was u on screen with him staring blankly in the bottom right of the screen

this man straight up saw u in a cutscene for one second and fell in love

his chat went wild omfg

he immediately made an emote for u and that’s his most popular one 😌

but i kid u not, the moment u appeared in that cutscene (one in which he will forever treasure in the crevices of his heart) was the moment he asked this exact question ;

“ so (y/n) banner when? ” 

and mihoyo heard his pleas and answered with ur event banner 

except it was like,, 4 months later 

at least ur finally here tho :’)

now he can have his lil science-y moments with ur voicelines ;-;

yes, ur the chief alchemist but ✨ 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✨

. . .

shut up

n e who

when he saw the notification from mihoyo’s official forums that u will be a playable character in the new update — along with new characters, region, events & a domain — i shit u not he did a rt, his own tweet, an announcement on the community feature on youtube, and made constant reminders to his viewers on twitch abt how he will be a (y/n) haver no matter what

he even added future (y/n) haver in his twt display name

what a shrimp—

the 1.2 update stream 🐥 he was there waiting for it to go live with like,,, 19k viewers spamming his chat abt predictions and obv ur official release + showcase

and when i say this man fell even more in love while watching ur trailer and character showcase 🥺 he wouldn’t stop smiling or being in awe bc ur just??? so stunning???

mihoyo clearly has a favourite child and it’s u

chat was spamming ur exclusive emote like crazy oml

u can bet it was also flooded with lots of POGs and POGGERS 

overall it was a very fun, chaotic stream filled with lots of (y/n) appreciation and love <33

also a very memorable stream for all his viewers bc of the side of albedo they rarely see unless ur involved

the day ur banner was to go live tho 🐥

the streams leading up to the fateful day consisted of him farming ur mats 

that’s it

boss runs, local specialties, hero wits, talent books, the mats needed for ur weapon he was inevitably going to pull for (only the best for the best, afterall) and many domain runs

many painful domain runs

all of it was worth it tho bc ur worth everything :’)

an actual quote said by him—

at least he can get u and ur weapon to lvl 90 right off the bat with all the artifacts tailored for u ;-;

and get u to that point he did HJSDKJF

once ur banner dropped? immediately started wishing

2 multis in and he gets u 😣

albedo nearly cried and was the literal embodiment of head in hands

wHEN I SAY HIS CHAT BLEW TF UP AND HIS MODS JOINED IN

modCheck has left the chat

everyone’s rooting for him :’)

pulled for ur weapon and got it in 1 multi

sir give me ur luck pls and ty

but yes he nearly choked on the gASP he let out while chat screamed even more

he blanked for a bit, i won’t lie ;-;

but when he realised this was real, he immediately went to his party set up and put u in

can we all get an f in the chat for his lvl 10 tartaglia 😔💔👊

his chat usually rages at him to build him but if he’s being honest, he cba

ur vl when he put u in the party tho <333

now he’s just spent half an hour running around with u, letting u do ur idle animations (will always be grateful for mihoyo creating u like this), reading ur very limited (for now—) character story and going through ur voicelines 

ur morning & about us (when he unlocks it) voiceline >>>>> his heart be running laps rn i swear

eventually he does begin to build u after much admiration on his end and at lvl 1 with lvl 20 artifacts, u already have 1.6k atk 🐥

now after he levels u and ur weapon to lvl 90, u have 2.8k atk 🐥

rip mobs <//3

he now plays u as his main dps 😌

the kit initially designed for u is meant to be more for support?? kinda like the whole ganyu or zhongli debate abt them being a dps or a support/sub dps ;-;

except ur more utility like venti or bennett

and even though the majority said at the beginning (aka, mihoyo, pretty much any other streamer and the larger part of the fanbase) that ur meant for support, he said fuck that and built u as his main dps

and i won’t lie, u do more damage than any of his characters, and ppl who co op with him

ur his pride and joy :’)

he went to take a look at ur consts to see if they were worth the rng suffering and, lo-and-behold,

they were

so now he’s using all his saved primos for u to try and get ur c6 const, along with making ur weapon r5 :’)

his chat gets a free view of him internally suffering when the gold light doesn’t come, and his external suffering when he loses the 50/50

in the end, he decided to whale for u <33

after nearly an hour, he has u to c6 and ur weapon to r5 ;-;

now all he’s been doing the whole stream is running around with u in open world, doing his daily farming, doing more domain and boss runs, exploring the new region (dragonspine) + ur story quest

he’s saving the event quest for another stream bc ✨content✨ 

in ur quest, he had multiple heart attacks and now has many, many screenshots <3

he now has a zoomed in pic of ur face as his twt pfp <33

okay so i also feel like he’s not all that bothered abt getting characters to friendship level 10 immediately and would rather let it happen through time

but obv ur not any other character *proceeds to debby ryan at u*

even if ur not fit for a particular domain or boss, he still puts u in the party so when collecting the blossom/rewards, u can get the friendship exp ;-;

he just wants ur name card so he can show off okay 🥺

when he lets his viewers pick out the playlist, 98% of the songs are from ur character demo theme 

they just know him so well 😩

they also just wanna see the way he smiles when he hears it play but shhhhhh

now he just has his in-game avatar as u, and ur namecard too <33

also his signature is just ;

“ (y/n)’s favourite streamer ”

[marowreck-archive]

sorry but my homestuck brain rot mandates me to ask you this;

do you have any headcanons as to how trolls look/are Different from humans? like their more alien features and such, or do you just see them as grey horned humans?

hi for the sake of god HELLO. anon, i have so many headcanons it truly is a mistake to open these floodgates. I also can't draw at the moment due to wrist pain so I hope a written answer will have to do for now :')

draft edit: THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKBOX FOR SO LONG. Anon i am gripping you by force, i literally have so much, and this is what i can think in like 10 minutes of pondering.

I don't think trolls are gray humans. In fact, i believe they're more like bug-like bipeds, being closer to bees than they are to mammals. This is a fun bit there are three "sexes" to trolls: females (the mothergrub!), males (the actual trolls!) and the workers (drones!). All of them have their roles and etc.

Since you're asking for the Looks, here are the basics:

Juvenile trolls (the ones we see more often in homestuck) are the most human-like ones both in shape and stature because they’re still young. At that stage their height equals human teen height, and sometimes humans can even be taller.

Their first puberty, or pupation, sets in at an older age than humans usually, so where a human teen starts getting their stuff slowly rolling at around 11-14, a troll would only get their puberty at around 17 or 18, but all of it comes in at the same time via molt.

Trolls go through several pupations, or molts. Two of them are the most important ones: The pupation from their larval grubby stage to juvenile, where they go from straight up looking like an insect to a child, more human-like. Then the maturation molt, where they leave their juvenile forms to get an adult appearance that makes them taller and their skin darker, with every subsequent molt to that being basically an "update" to their form, to make them even taller and stronger. They will keep doing thay up until they die, like lobsters! Even lowbloods get taller and buffer than the average human, and from indigo and up they only get taller and taller. Below is just a VERY simple height chart, no other body hcs applied.

More often than not, trolls are STOCKY. They’re beefy and their structure is naturally heavy than a human. A troll weights a round1.5 of a human the equivalent size and body type. Even the skinny ones. They’re dense, but they’re also much much stronger and much sturdier.

And as you might have already noticed if you’ve looked at my art, NONE of my trolls really are grey humans, or at least i try not to make them that way! i always make sure to give them both bug-like traits and other animal traits. They all have little tails that vary in shape and lenght by caste, VERY often digitigrade feet and sometimes other face structure modifications, such as multiple eyes, chitinous face with big mouths and such and also fur and body markings. YES all my trolls glow under UV light also, it wasn’t just an one off headcanon thing, their vision is adapted to see the patterns, and i’m pretty sure their range of vision differs from ours, specially if you judge they’re night-time predator bugs.

Also! fun fact, but i classify seadwellers depeding on their most comfortable position on sea depth:  pelagic (shallow to middle water level, most common, can go deeper but not live long term down there), benthic (bottom feeders, but not from deep sea), deep sea/abyssal (inhabits naturally below the bathypelagic zone + abyssal, CAN go deeper and survive the pressure of the bottom of the sea but definitely couldnt live there), strict abyssal seadwellers (extremely rare, cannot live outside water at all. all mutants). Each one of those is built similarly, but they all have different functions and traits that differ!

[joealwyndaily]

Joe Alwyn currently occupies one of the strangest spaces in the greater celebrity matrix. He’s not yet the sort of movie star your parents would recognize at the airport and text you about, nor does he have the box-office draw of a Chalamet or Pattinson, at least not yet. The 31-year-old has been working steadily in film and television since his straight-out-of-British-drama-school debut as the lead in Ang Lee’s 2016 high-def experiment Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk. He racked up a series of well-received supporting roles in big period Oscar dramas and small critically appreciated indies, usually playing a Ken-doll-faced dick (Harriet, Operation Finale, Boy Erased, The Last Letter From Your Lover) or a blushing Brit from a bygone era (The Sense of an Ending, The Favourite, The Souvenir Part II, Mary Queen of Scots). Now, his first lead role since Billy, in Hulu’s second Sally Rooney adaptation, Conversations With Friends, threatens to make him fully Recognizable to Moms.

For a specific and rather substantial subset of the global population, however, Alwyn is not only a household name but a dinner-table centerpiece. To Google him is to stare straight into the stan-culture abyss. Lengthy YouTube videos are dedicated to his rare and rather unremarkable public interactions with his overwhelmingly famous longtime girlfriend — “Taylor Swift turns around to look at her boyfriend, Joe Alwyn, and sticks her tongue out at him” — or to the opaque references the two have made to the mere fact of each other’s existence. Breathless lists of “everything Taylor and Joe have said about their private relationship” abound in the Us Weekly universe. Alwyn is left to choose his words and body language wisely or risk their becoming permanent parts of the elaborate Swiftian canon. The man is not simply well-versed in the art of concealment; he is the Criss Angel of conversational dynamics. In interviews, he often demonstrates an ability to politely answer a question while revealing absolutely nothing about himself, sometimes even backtracking mid-answer to negate a benign detail. (From a recent piece in Mr. Porter: “Well, do you like football?” asks the reporter. “Football?” replies Alwyn. “Yeah. Am I allowed to say those kinds of things?”)

Yet he believes he has gotten better at the whole press thing over the years. “I don’t think I don’t enjoy interviews,” he says carefully. “I think I have seemed guarded.” He definitely “would like to not seem so guarded in them.” I can see those contradicting desires roiling inside Alwyn now, sitting across from him on the patio at Fairfax, in the West Village, for lunch. His energy is vaguely uncomfortable but determined, like that of someone preparing to swim laps in the English Channel in January to prove something to themselves. Perhaps sensing he has already revealed too much, he falls back on one of his tried-and-true lines: “If you were to ask a stranger on the street questions about their private life, let alone with the intent to then post it everywhere, why would that person not be like, ‘Sorry, what, why?’ So why would I not be like that?” He points at a woman sitting across the way from us who is, to my knowledge, not on a press tour. “I’m not going to go over there and ask that woman about her personal life.” “Actually, maybe you should,” I suggest. “I mean, I might do later,” he says, now looking cheered. “I’ll just holler across the street.”

Alwyn orders a Guinness (which is not available, so he opts for an IPA) after confirming I will also be drinking. “I’m just clinging on to that Irishness,” he says, referring to the five months he spent filming Conversations With Friends in Belfast. I start with some simple questions — When did he realize he wanted to act? What was he like as a child? “See, these are the questions I find hard,” he says. Was he introverted? Outgoing? Sporty? “I was on the introverted side but not a crippling introvert. Like an extroverted introvert,” he answers. “Is that allowed?”

In small spurts, I learn Alwyn was “not hammy” as a youth — instead, he was the family baby, “displaced” at age 12 by a new sibling, and an athlete who realized what he really wanted was to act. He kept his burning theatrical desires quiet, à la Zac Efron in High School Musical. He admits to an early obsession with Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet and talks joyfully about how he was brought up watching “random French movies” with his documentary-filmmaker father and psychotherapist mother. Occasionally, he broke free from the chains of jockdom and played Banquo in a version of Macbeth performed entirely on Rollerblades, and Snowy the dog in a production of Tintin despite looking exactly like Tintin: “Snowy was more of a stretch.”

Alwyn says he “secretly would look up drama schools online” as a teenager. Once in university, he applied to four and was rejected by all but one. He was yanked out in his last year by Lee, who had fought with the studio to cast an unknown as the naïve, PTSD-ridden Billy Lynn. “It was terrifying and surreal and happened so quickly,” Alwyn remembers. Critics were almost unilaterally derisive of the film, but Alwyn was praised for his naturalism, his believable innocence, and, per one review, a “cuteness roughly akin to that of Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting.” Like most things that have happened to Alwyn, that image has proved to be both a boon and a curse. Directors feel they must either play off it directly (place him somewhere in the past when evidently it was more normal to look like that; make him the evil, rich trophy husband to 1960s amnesia victim Shailene Woodley; cast him as Margot Robbie’s devoted, winsome courtier) or subvert it (he looks this way because he is an actual Nazi). Before filming Billy Lynn, Lee had been concerned that Alwyn was “too handsome” to play a run-of-the-mill contemporary dude; ultimately, he decided Alwyn’s face is “so compelling it doesn’t matter.”

The conversation about his looks gets meta in Conversations. In the series, he plays Nick, an emotionally walled-off, married, 30-something actor who begins an affair with a college student and slowly lets his guard down. His character is a classically attractive, heavily restrained man with hidden depths who struggles to be taken seriously while everyone around him says stuff about his face. In one scene, he and his paramour, Frances, are bidding each other farewell after a drawn-out romp when she blurts out, “You’re so handsome.” Nick turns pink. “I thought you were attracted to my personality,” he jokes half-heartedly. “Do you even have one?” replies Frances, who then looks equally humiliated. Alwyn begins mock-pulling at his cheeks and widening his eyes at any talk of said face. “Two eyes, one nose, one mouth,” he says. “I don’t know what to say.” But did he relate to that moment with Nick and Frances? “It’s not something I wrestled with,” he says, studying me as he spoons up some steak tartare. He tenses a bit. “What are you trying to get me to say about my face?” I explain that I have no specific face-related agenda, and he visibly relaxes. “No, sorry, I’m sure,” he says. “I would much rather work with an interesting director in a smaller, weirder, darker part, than something big and obvious and getting typecast just for the sake of it.”

COVID had messed up his plans to star in an “Emily Brontë origin story,” so he put himself on tape for Conversations director Lenny Abrahamson one weekend at an unnamed friend’s “beautiful, immaculate” house. Thinking he needed to look older than his three decades to play the mid-30s Nick, he went upstairs to find a jacket from his friend’s “older husband,” where he found a paperback copy of Conversations With Friends lying on​ the bedroom floor​. He got the part a week later. “I’m not superstitious,” he adds, b​efore spending the next five minutes discussing the things he actually is superstitious about — namely, and randomly, magpies. (“If I see one, I’m like, ‘Oh, shit,’” he says, whipping out his phone to show me a photo of a magpie, appearing genuinely thrilled to be talking about this.)

Alwyn’s performance in Conversations is his best yet. He’s convincing as a sensitive, depressive guy who desperately wants to open up to someone but doesn’t quite know if it’s safe to do so. The role is bold. There are more sex scenes per capita in this series than anything he has ever done, scenes of the caliber and intimacy that turned Paul Mescal, the previously unknown star of Hulu’s first Rooney adaptation, Normal People, into an icon of early-pandemic-era sensuality. “When they sent the audition, they said, just as a heads up, that it would be to sign up for the possibility of full frontal,” Alwyn says, though he ended up going tush-only. Is he prepared to be the subject of a new type of public frenzy? “To be honest, I forget that other people will see it.”

In the summer of 2020, Swift surprise-released the Grammy-winning album Folklore. Fans speculated endlessly about the identity of William Bowery, a mysterious co-writer on two songs. That November, Swift revealed that Bowery was in fact Alwyn and that the pair had taken up songwriting together in quarantine. I assume Alwyn will give me one of his speak-arounds on the subject. Instead, he leans forward, putting his English Channel–swimming face back on. “What would you like to know?”

Although he grew up playing a bit of piano and was the guitarist in a “crappy school band called Anger Management,” Alwyn doesn’t consider himself a musician or songwriter and insists that he is, in fact, an awful singer. He was merely “messing around” on the piano when Swift heard and walked over, intrigued. He had been singing the fully formed first verse to the song that became “Exile.” (Bon Iver handles the male vocals on the final version.) “It was completely off the cuff, an accident,” he says, shrugging. “She said, ‘Can we try and sit down and get to the end together?’ And so we did. It was as basic as some people made sourdough.”

I press him on this point — he wrote an entire verse to a Taylor Swift song without trying? “Who doesn’t walk around the house singing?” he asks. I explain that it’s unusual for hit songs to spring forth like that from nonmusicians’ heads. He says he wasn’t trying to write to Swift’s personal sound but had been listening to a lot of the National (Aaron Dessner ended up producing the album). Alwyn wrote the chorus for “Betty” just as casually, albeit less soberly: “I’d probably had a drink and was just stumbling around the house. We couldn’t decide on a film to watch that night, and she was like, ‘Do you want to try and finish writing that song you were singing earlier?’ And so we got a guitar and did that.”

Initially, Alwyn didn’t want his name credited, anticipating that what he describes as the “clickbait conversation” would distract people from actually listening to the music. So he went by William Bowery as a nod to his music-composer great-grandfather and the Manhattan street. But then he recognized the “clickbait conversation” was happening anyway — “I don’t say that vainly,” he adds quickly — so why not let the world know it was him? He stresses his blissful ignorance of, say, those videos dissecting his relationship with Swift: “I’m aware of those when people tell me in these situations.” It seems like a healthy, practiced denial; he has worked at tuning this shit out because otherwise he might never utter a single syllable again. And despite having a face that launched a thousand Swift songs, at certain angles in his normal-boy outfit, he does have a certain ability to blend. None of the other 30-somethings lunching at Fairfax seem to have any clue who he is. “I suppose it’s not as if you’re Jennifer Lopez,” I joke. “I beg to differ,” he shoots back with a laugh. “I am Jennifer Lopez.” I start to warm to Alwyn. He knows that what he wants (privacy) and what he has to do (publicity) are fundamentally at odds and has embraced that contradiction with dry, charming wit.

We’ve finished our food, which means the moment we’ve both been dreading can no longer be avoided. “You have things you have to ask,” says Alwyn, folding his hands together. “And I’ll either choose to answer or not.” I look him gamely in the face and ask if he is, indeed, betrothed to marry one Taylor Alison Swift. He exhales. “The truth is,” he begins, “if I had a pound coin for every time someone told me I’ve been engaged or I’m getting engaged, I would have a lot of pound coins. If the answer was yes, I wouldn’t say. If the answer is no, I wouldn’t say.” I’m struck briefly speechless. It is perhaps the best non-answer I have ever received. I ask him how often he’s practiced it, and he explains that recently, back home in the U.K., a journalist had tried to sneakily phrase the engagement as a statement rather than a question. “You’re not the first person to ask,” he says. His tone conveys that he understands I will also not be the last.

Before I release Alwyn back into the wild, I ask why, in one of his rare forays into celebrity endorsement — a perfectly confusing Tom Ford perfume commercial — he appears physically appalled by the sight of his own neck in the mirror as he sprays himself with the scent. “How dare you!” he says, laughing, looking both offended and delighted. “If that’s not how everyone puts perfume on themselves, then I’ve been lied to.” He suddenly remembers his professional obligations: “Tom Ford’s amazing as a person.” He stands up and bids me a polite farewell. Walking solo toward Tribeca, he is instantly snapped by the paparazzi.

[tartglias]

finders keepers

childe x reader

warnings: minor deaths? but in background lol

words: 1.2k

request: “a hurt/comfort scenario where childe and his s/o have known each other since they were kids but notices the ajax they once knew is gone (since childe did fall into the abyss and later becomes a fatui harbinger) but childe reassures them that although he’s changed some parts of him are still the same and that he will love and protect his s/o no matter what 🥺👉🏻👈🏻*

•••

It’s strange how time can change a person, both physically and personality wise. One could think that such changes aren’t drastic, maybe said person just got taller or got a haircut. Maybe they just found someone in life who made them see the world from a better perspective, or maybe they’ve seen so much it reached a certain point in which one can no longer recognize them.

Unfortunately, the scene in front of you revealed the last case.

Last time you saw Ajax, or Childe since he goes by that name now, you were only teenagers eager to explore the world. You’ve known him for as long as you can remember, he was your neighbor after all. Everywhere you went, he followed. Every time he got into trouble, you followed as well. “A friendship like that is rare, you must take care of it” his mother would say. It was your 14th birthday, you remember the day well and clear, and it wasn’t exactly for the good reasons.

“I’m leaving tomorrow” he said, as he sat down beside you under the tree at your favorite spot.

“Oh, where are we going?” you asked, cluelessly. “Y/n... I’m going alone. I need to see the world” He said, not directly looking at you. You suddenly felt your heart feel heavy, not because he was leaving, but because you knew him very well and you understood that he didn’t want you to follow him.

There was a moment of silence, neither daring to look at each other. Him, because he thought that if he saw your face he would regret his decision and stay. You, because you thought you would lose your friend.

“Can you promise me something, Ajax?” you said, finally finding the courage to break the silence. You lifted your pinky finger. “Actually, pinky promise me something”

He nodded, now looking at you. “Pinky promise me that you’ll be brave and survive all the monsters out there. And that once you come back, you’ll still be my best friend”

He lifted up his pinky and interlocked it with yours, and after a few seconds, pulled you in for a hug.

He disappeared the next day. His family questioned you to no end, but you didn’t speak. How could you anyways? You didn’t even know where he was heading. After a few days that already felt like weeks to you, he came back. But he came back... differently. He came back with so much confidence he even dared to fight the best swordsman in your town. He became problematic, and even if you tried to follow, he would leave you behind. It was like you were chasing after him, but he was too fast for you to keep up.

He disappeared again. According to your mother, everyone knew were he was this time. His father took him to the Fatuis, in hopes that the old Ajax came back. This second time was different, though. He wrote to you. Every couple of weeks, you would find a small envelope with Ajax’s handwriting and a letter inside. In the letter, he told you about how his life was going and the different experiences he had to go through.

Years went by, and even though letters were barely exchanged now (just when you went home to visit), you also changed. You were no longer a fragile teenager that waited for their best friend to come home, at last. You were now an adult who got to master the art of claymores and got blessed with a Geo vision. Although, you now find yourself among the treasure hoarders as an elite member. Life is unpredictable, right?

Which leads... to the current situation. The plan was perfect, you were certain that a couple of low rank Fatui recruits would gather at night to exchange some valuable information about the location of a treasure. Everything was perfect, your group got to ambush them and take the documents from them. What you didn’t know was that your perfect plan had a flaw... and the most unpredictable one.

It happened so quick, one moment you were interrogating and stealing the documents from the Fatui recruits, and the next one, most your group was executed by one single arrow. Thankfully, your quick reflexes acted right away, summoning your claymore and covering yourself from getting hit.

“I believe that those documents belong to us, am I right?” a voice said.

“Well... finders keepers” You said, lowering your claymore in order to prepare to attack.

“Y/n?” the owner of the voice said, appearing in front of you and lowering his bow. His face was filled with shock, and you were sure he wasn’t the only one. You felt your knees go weak and a chill went down your spine.

“Ajax?” You asked, in a bit stutter-y way.

He called your name one more time, as he ran to you and wrapped his arms around your figure. You felt weak. You dropped your weapon and wrapped your arms around his body, as if you were scared he was going to disappear again. You hid your face on his neck and tried to not let out a sob. He came back to you. In the most unpredictable way, sure, but he came back. He was holding you again.

“You changed” you said after a while of hugging, suddenly realizing you were surrounded by the bodies of your now dead team. They didn’t even got to disappear like usual.

“Well I can say the same to you. Why the treasure hoarders?” He asked, pulling away just slightly so he was able to see your face. He was beautiful, his features were now more defined. But his eyes changed. The once blue eyes that were full of life were now dull.

“It’s a long story, you left and I was lost. I tried to follow you but Ajax... it was so hard. I couldn’t even see you, I needed my best friend and you were gone. You even dodged my questions about you coming back so I just... I got lost in my way”

“I’m sorry” he said, and you could swear you saw the old light in his eyes the moment he started caressing your cheek. “In my own way, I wanted to protect you. The Fatuis aren’t exactly the morally best organization in Teyvat and I didn’t want to put you at risk. I guess I kind of did anyways, considering you joined the treasure hoarders”

“I guess we both got lost” you said, placing your hand on top of his and letting out a short laugh.

“I never forgot the promise I made you that day. It was the only thing that kept me going this whole time, and specially in a very dark time in my life. I kept going and surviving for you”

“What about the last part?” you asked.

“I found you, and I don’t plan on leaving you behind again” he said, and leaned in to kiss your forehead. Just like the old times.

And it was then and there that you realized Childe, no, Ajax wasn’t gone. He may have changed but to you, he was still your old best friend. You both got lost, but found each other as well. And neither of you dared to say it out loud, but you thought that this wasn’t a coincidence. The universe is unpredictable and a strange place after all.

[scarletjedi]

Untitled Untamed Time Travel Fix-it Fic but make it Mingcheng pt 3A

@piyo-13

Part 1: The Setup

Part 2A: Gusu Revisited

Part 2B: Gusu Unleashed!

Part 3A: The Return of the Plot

One day, Lan Qiren announces that there will be several days without classes, as he is expected to attend a discussion conference in Qinghe. Students are expected to continue their studies independently, but everyone knows that it’s some much needed time off.

And, if Jiang Cheng’s memory serves, this was when Lan Xichen led them to fight the Waterborne Abyss. It plays out more or less as Jiang Cheng remembers, with Lan Xichen leading a mixed group of juniors down to the lake. The group consisted of himself, Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji and a few Lan disciples, as well as Wen Ning and Wen Qing. Nie Huaisang had smothered laughter when Xichen had asked, insisting that he was going to stay and “study.” Jiang Cheng wasn't sure if Lan Xichen believed him, but Nie Huaisang really wasn’t a strong cultivator, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to handle a water demon.

But, knowing what the problem actually was, and being able to convince Lan Xichen that this was more than a few water ghouls without saying “I’m from the future and we’ve done this already: here’s what you need to know” was a bit beyond Jaing Cheng’s skill. Wangji was no help, nor was Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

Later, Jiang Cheng would shake his head at his naivete in thinking Wei Wuxian had something planned using resentful energy, instead of what he actually did, which was flirt inappropriately with Lan Wangji the entire time.

Granted, that wasn’t much different from the first time, but this time Lan Wangji flirted back, and yeah, their flirting looked a hell of a lot light fighting together (and the pang of jealousy Jiang Cheng felt was an old ghost, and easily put to rest. He had his brother back, and he wasn’t going to let old hurts sour what was becoming a stronger bond) — but it also looked a hell of a lot like foreplay--

On the boat next to him, Lan Xichen’s smile had become a little fixed, his neck flushed an embarrassed red. When he met Jiang Cheng’s eye, Jiang Cheng sent him the same commiserating look he would sent A-Jie when Wei Wuxian was being ridiculous. Lan Xichen started, but sent a rueful (and, hopefully, honest) smile in return.

The events played out much as they had before. Su She lost his sword in the lake. Wei Wuxian almost fell into the abyss trying to save Wen Ning. Lan Xichen put the pieces together and came up with Qishan Wen. And, if Wen Ning’s eyes were less ghost-white, and more fierce-corpse black, well — it’s not like it would be something others would recognize.

They traveled back to The Cloud Recesses by boat, and when Wei Wuxian held up a pair of surreptitiously purchased bottles, Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.

Yeah, what the hell. He could use a drink.

~*~

That evening is surreal as everyone piles into the room Jiang Cheng shares with Wei Wuxian. Some things are the same as before: there are peanuts to eat, and their outer robes are thrown over the windows to hide the lights of the lanterns that will remain lit well after curfew. But this time, it's more than just him and Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. This time Jin Zixuan is there, holding a bag of boiled sweets like it’s an entrance fee. Wen Ning, sitting hunched over as if it could make his already surprisingly broad frame smaller, brought roasted and salted melon seeds. One concerning thing, however, was that Nie Huaisang, along with the peanuts, had insisted on bringing “entertainment.” Jiang Cheng hoped it was game cards, but it was more likely to be porn.

...or porn themed game cards...

Oh, fuck, it was porn-themed game cards, wasn’t it?

Jiang Cheng shook his head, trying to chase the worry away. There was a larger issue at present, one that challenged everything Jiang Cheng remembered about their group’s shared past...

The wine was provided by Lan Wangji.

Sure, Wei Wuxian had snagged a couple bottles on the boat ride through the market, same as last time, but he had only managed to grab two bottles. No, when Lan Wangji had arrived, walking in like he was busting them for breaking the rules *again*, he had, instead, pulled *three* bottles from his sleeve, and Jiang Cheng wasn’t entirely convinced there wasn’t more stored there for later. It certainly seemed like something this Lan Wangji would do to please Wei Wuxian — and judging by the way Wei Wuxian threw himself into Lan Wangji’s arms, it was *working*

Jiang Cheng sat next to Nie Huaisang, which placed him next to Wen Ning. Their tentative truce held as Wen Ning smiled at him, tight lipped but honest. Jiang Cheng was sure his returning expression was no less pained. Jin Zixuan sat gingerly on Nie Huaisang’s other side.

Jiang Cheng grabbed one of the bottles on the table, and Nie Huaisang hurriedly pulled several cups from somewhere. Jiang Cheng poured four cups, and dropped the bottle on the table. Wei Wuxian could get his own when he put down Lan Wangji.

Roughly, though gentle enough not to spill, Jiang Cheng placed a drink before Nie Huaisang and Wen Ning, and then all but shoved a third at Jin Zixuan. “Drink up,” he said brusquely, downing his own glass and pouring another.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian protested — Oh, now he’s paying attention! — “Savor the wine! Emperor’s Smile is a wine so unparalleled—”

“I’m about to ask him about A-jie,” Jiang Cheng snapped, and Wei Wuxian fell silent. Then, to Zixuan, who had remained frozen, cup in hand: “Drink up!”

Jin ZIxuan drank.

It didn’t take long for his face to flush, his eyes to blink more slowly — long enough for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian to join them, Wei Wuxian leaning in to check on Wen Ning, who nodded back. Ignoring that exchange, Jiang Cheng watched Jin Zixuan pour another cup with more care than usual. He had to admit, he was a little surprised: he expected greater tolerance for pleasures from someone from Lanling Jin.

“So,” Jiang Cheng said, not too proud to admit that he enjoyed the sudden look of terror in Jin Zixuan’s eyes. “Why don’t you want to marry my sister?”

Huaisang choked on his drink, but Jin Zixuan lowered his cup, answering seriously. “I don’t know your sister.”

Jiang Cheng waited, but there was nothing more forthcoming. “That’s it? You don’t know her? Tsh—” he pointed at Jin Zixuan with the finger of the hand holding his cup. “That’s easily fixed.”

Jin Zixuan...slumped. There was no other word for it, and Jiang Cheng was reminded, yet again, that Jin Zixuan was only fifteen — the only actual teenager in the room.

Jiang Cheng sighed internally. That meant he had to be an adult about this, didn’t it? Damnit.

He held up a hand to stop Wei Wuxian’s irate sputtering from becoming actual words. “Don’t you want to know your intended?”

Jin Zixuan glared at him, sullen, and Jiang Cheng had a sudden flash of Jin Ling, and what he would become as a teenager — even as a toddler, the child clearly hadn’t inherited his mother’s composure. But, Jiang Cheng was the adult in the room (by default. Huaisang was, actually, the oldest, but Jiang Cheng was confident in thinking that didn’t count when Huaisang was determined to recapture his misspent youth in between plotting the fate of the cultivation world), and being the adult meant waiting out the teenager.

After a long moment Jin Zixuan downed his drink, as if for courage, and spat, “I would like one thing in my life to be my own!” It was supposed to be angry, and Jiang Cheng could sympathize with that anger — how much of his own life was wha Jiang Cheng would have chosen? — but in this moment, it was just even more clean that Jin Zixuan was still a teenager — and a poorly socialized one at that.

Jiang Cheng knew Luo Qingyang had tried her best, but there was only so much even as capable a woman as she could do in a place like Jinlingtai.

“You are a sect heir—” Jiang Cheng began, but Jin Zixuan cut him off.

“So I can choose nothing for myself?!”

Jiang Cheng slammed his palm on the table, the echoing crack of it silencing and stilling the room. “Yes! Exactly! Your life is not your own; it has never been your own, and sometimes that’s easy, but sometimes...” He swallowed, mind’s eye full of battlefield thunder and a surprisingly boyish grin, “sometimes life will seem to offer you everything you ever wanted and you cannot take it because your sect comes first.” Mortifyingly, his voice cracks, and Nie Huaisang shows some damned tact by gripping his hand in comfort under the table where Jin Zixuan can’t see — and Lan Wangji’s face looks as stoic as he ever did in Jiang Cheng’s memories, and Wei Wuxian looks like he might cry, and—-

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat. “So all you can do is choose the way you face it. You can be sullen and cry “why me” and like miserable for both you and her, who has no more choice in this that you. You can make things difficult for your sect, mine, our parents — or, you can choose to make an effort, get to know A-Jie. You can choose to walk into the future with an ally.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or do you want a marriage like your parents’? I know I wouldn’t wish mine on anybody.”

He raised his cup to drink, but it was empty. A bottle appeared in his field of vision, and Jiang Cheng watched as Nie Huaisang filled his cup.

“Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian began softly, but he shook his head.

Pointing at Jin Zixuan, Jiang Cheng said. “Make you choice. Now,” he sniffed. “Huaisang, you promised entertainment?”

“I did!” Nie Huaisang said, giggling as he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a stack of cards with a flourish. “I found these in a little shop in Qinghe. The art is exquisite, and they’re quite rare, so be careful! Don’t spill anything on them!”

With a practiced flick of his wrist, he spread them on the table. Jin Zixuan choked and Jiang Cheng sighed.

Yep. Porn cards.

Squinting, he picked up one to get a better look. Oh. Cutsleeve porn cards. Well.

“Nie-xiong!” Wei Wuxian exclaimed, half-delighted and half-scandalized. He leaned in closer to look, but it was Lan Wangji who picked up a card to study it more closely. He showed it to Wei Wuxian, who turned purple, grabbing the card and hiding it against his chest. “Lan Zhan!”

“Ah ah! Don’t bend them!” Nie Huaisang scolded, flapping his fingers as he would his fan.

“You-!” Wei Wuxian tried, but he couldn’t get the words out past his mortification. Jiang Cheng smirked and picked up a card of his own, not really looking closely but loving the way Wei Wuxian made a noise like steam escaping. Really, his favorite song.

After that, their little group was solidified. It gained them some severe looks from Wen Qing, (and one terrifying moment when Jiang Cheng, in a hurry to make it back to his dorms before curfew, turned a corner and came face to face with her. She was smaller than he remembered, the force of her presence making her grow in his memory, but after a moment of far too intense eye-contact, Jiang Cheng stepped aside to let her pass, which she did. Jiang Cheng told himself that the flash of light by her fingertips was an illusion, and not her needles), but every time Lan Xichen saw their group with Lan Wangji he smiled and let them be.

Once, Jiang Cheng saw Jin Zixuan talking closely with Jiang Yanli, and slowed down until he saw Mianmian standing within earshot, pointedly not looking. No need to get involved, himself. Mianmian was more than capable of smacking him if Jin Zixuan stepped out of line.

Wen Ning was a surprising help for Nie Huaisang, possessing an incredible amount of patience and a talent for tutoring. When Nie Huaisang passed the next exam without asking Wei Wuxian to help him cheat, he threw himself at the shy boy, draping over him the way he used to his brother’s sworn brothers, sobbing his thanks. Wen Ning awkwardly patted his back and waited for him to stand.

~*~

So, since this is the Untamed canon, the whole Yin Iron thing happens, only this time Wangxian *know* they’ve eloped, and have decided to make that everyone *else’s* problem by being utterly shameless while keeping knowledge of their elopement to the core group of time travelers. Wangji makes it clear that he would be traveling with Wei Ying, who also makes it clear that there is no way he would let Lan Zhan handle this alone. The plan is still to travel after the lectures complete.

Nie Huaisang is adamant that they have to leave before that if they wait, they’ll miss Xue Yang, and delaying too long would trap them between Gusu and Wen Xu. Lan Wangji is perfectly happen to fuck up Wen Xu, but agrees the Yin Iron is more important.

Either way, the lantern festival comes, and Jin Zixuan isn’t a total jerkwad, having actually talked to Yanl at some point — actually, based on the way they’re looking at each other, they probably talked a lot. Mianmian caught Jiang Cheng’s eye and winked. Huh.

Leaning in closer to Nie Huaisang, Jiang Cheng wurmured, “if my sister marries Jin Zixuan before the war, how badly will that impact your plans?”

Nie Huaisang waved his hand, clearly focusing more on his lantern. “I’ve several contingencies for that, don’t worry!”

The rest of the lantern lighting goes off without a hitch, and Jiang Cheng releases his lantern with a wish that he refuses to speak out loud.

Afterwards, there’s still a commotion, but instead of Wei Wuxian punching Jin Zixuan because he’s being a dick, it’s becuse several disciples stumbled over Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian ... well, they were fully clothed then Jiang Cheng opened up, so it couldn’t have been anything too scandalous. When they’re brought before Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen for discipline, the former looks about ready to qi deviate, while Lan Xichen was absolutely planning Lan Wangji’s wedding robes.

Jaing Cheng narrowed his eyes.

Even Lan Xichen’s composure cracked, however, when Lan Wangji dropped the “we eloped” bomb, and Jiang Cheng heard Lan Qiren shout for the first time off of a battlefield. Eventually, however, it was decided that the handfasting could be seen as an engagement rather than a marriage (and even Jiang Cheng recognized how stubborn Lan Wangji looked at that), and the couple would be seen as officially courting. The proper letters and gifts would be delivered to Yunmeng Jiang immediately—

“We should wait!” Wei Wuxian blurted out, and hand to backtrack quickly to explain: dealing with the Yin Iron should take precedence. If they started formal marriage proceedings, then Lan Wangji wouldn’t be available to hunt the Yin Iron. So, they should wait until after their search before sending the letters.

“We cannot allow you both to go alone, even if nothing is yet official, there is still propriety to observe.”

Somehow, neither Wei Ying nor Lan Wangji let slip their late nights in the Jingshi, and Jiang Cheng found himself saying goodbye to Yanli as he and Nie Huaisang prepared to travel with the two newlyweds.

~*~.

The events play out much the same as before, only this time instead of sending Meng Yao, Nie Mingjue sends Nie Zonghui to collect them and Xue Yang (who, after they testify the his confessions of his crimes) is summarily executed - and then, they have two pieces of Yin Iron.

But, before that happens, their party arrives in Qinghe.

Nie Mingjue is waiting for them, like before, but this time there is a noticeable pause when he sets eyes on Jaing Cheng (and oh, but he wasn’t ready—) — long enough a pause that those watching noticed, and it was only at Huaisang’s prompting that Nie Mingjue began to speak, repeating the words he said the first time as if a script he was told to follow, save for the way he paused again after his paise made Jiang Cheng flush like a teenager with a crush—

Nie Zonghui gives his report and takes Xue Yang away, and Meng Yao leads “the visiting young masters” away to rest and refresh themselves from travel. The minute they are alone, Nie Huaisang *flings* himself at Nie Mingjue, sobbing. “DA-GE!”

“Didi, what did you do?!” Nie Mingjue demands, his words belied by his tone, near tears himself, and the way he holds Huaisang back just as tightly.

Gathering himself, Nie Huaisang steps back, squares his shoulders, and snaps open his fan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Da-ge. I didn’t do anything.” Mingjue’s eyes narrow and the fan flutters. “Really it’s all about being in the right place.” He blinked, slow. “At the right time.”

Dinner that night is a tense affair, not out of discomfort, but out of the need to keep up pretense. Mingjue took the opportunity between meeting with his brother and the meal to met out Xue Yang’s sentence, and when Meng Yao idly commented on the fact that acting unilaterally as he had would make certain political allegiances difficult, Nie Mingjue commented that war was inherently difficult, and if the Nie sect were the only ones to notice that Wen Ruohan had gone to war without informing the rest of them, that was hardly his fault, was it.

(Meng Yao had looked at him, and when Nie Mingjue raised an eyebrow, he shook his head. “Nothing, sect leader, just...it always surprises me more when you are like your brother than when your brother reminds me of you.”

Nie Mingjue had laughed, low and self-aware. He did hope that they were able to keep Meng Yao from making the same mistakes in this life: he did, genuinely, like the man.)

They did not keep silent during the meal, as they were not in Gusu, but as was customary during joint functions, they refrained from discussing anything of substance until the meal was over, and no one pressed Lan Wangji to speak. But, once the meal was over and they lingered over a delightful Qinghe wine that was clearly not chosen by Nie Mingjue himself, not the way he looked surprised by the contents of his cup, Nie Mingjue dismissed the staff and gave Meng Yao his leave for the night. It was only once the door was closed behind them that the facade dropped.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his forehead. “All of you? Us? All of us?” he asked, sounding far too tired, and Jiang Cheng, sitting opposite Nie Huaisang, next in line from Nie Mingjue, moved to reach out in comfort without thinking. Mingjue was seated too far away, however, and Jiang Cheng watched, instead, as Nie Mingjue gathered himself once more.

When Mingjue looked up, Jiang Cheng began talking, explaining that it was only supposed to be him, but something had gone wrong. That they were lucky that their error brought more people along and did not, for example, kill any of them. In such a ritual, Jiang Cheng was pretty sure it would not be a normal death, and despite the rituals he had undergone to prevent such things, he did not want to haunt the earth after attempting and failing to go back in time.

“Is this all of us?”

“There’s one more,” Nie Huaisang said, and hesitated. “He’s on our side, and always has been!”

Nie Mingjue lowered the cup. “Who?”

“Wen Qionglin,” Nie Huaisang said, and raised his fan to cover his mouth. “The Ghost General.”

Nie MIngjue breathed deeply through his nose, letting it out slowly even as Baxia rattled eagerly beside him. Jiang Cheng eyed the saber warily - he didn’t know what effect traveling through time would have on Mingjue’s qi, and he didn’t want his lover to deviate before they had a chance to keep him alive.

But, Baxia settled, and Mingjue turned his focus on Wei Wuxian. “Yes. Let’s talk about the Ghost General.” Jiang Cheng wasn’t surprised when Lan Wangji’s arm came up between Wei Wuxian and Nie Mingjue, nor when Wei Wuxian patted it gently, trying to urge Lan Wangji to step aside. Lan Wangji didn’t move, and Jiang Cheng cleared his throat, sitting up straight to speak like the sect leader he was, even if he wasn’t yet.

Oh, he’s going to have to face that soon, isn’t he?

“Wei Wuxian’s cultivation is not an issue. The circumstances that lead to its creation will not be repeated,” and here, he turned to Wei Wuxian. “Under any circumstances.”

Wei Wuxian opened his mouth as if to argue, shot his eyes sideways to Lan Wangji, and slumped, visibly, as if he was truly still a teenager. He nodded, holding up three fingers in salute.

“And what circumstances were those?” Nie Mingjue asked, raising an eyebrow. “If this is something that could be replicated—”

“It isn’t,” Jiang Cheng snapped. Nie Mingjue looked at him in surprise: it wasn’t that Jiang Cheng had never snapped at him before, but perhaps he could tell how upsetting Jiang Cheng found the whole mess. He forces himself to settle, to lower his shoulders and unclench his jaw. Softening his voice as much as he could, he offered: “Later.”

Nie Mingjue watched him for a moment, and then nodded.

Of course Wei Wuxian had to ruin it. “Jiang Cheng is correct in saying that the conditions wont be repeated, and the effects of my research are not currently affecting this world, it doesn’t change the fact that I know this path - I am still capable of it’s cultivation.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said, his tone steely enough to override any other reactions to that proclamation. “Your skills were instrumental in not only ending the war, but winning. We’ll need your talents again if we want to defeat Wen Ruohan.”

After a moment, Nie Mingjue nodded. “I have to agree. I don’t like it, you’re too talented a cultivator to lose you to wicked tricks a second time, but I can’t deny that it was effective on the battlefield.”

“Perhaps not as your primary path of cultivation?” Lan Wangji said, the plea within obvious. Wei Wuxian smiled at him, softly enough that it was as if the rest of them suddenly didn’t exist.

“Don’t worry, Lan-er-gege. I just got Suibian back - I have no desire to cast her aside so quickly.”

From the corner of his eye, Jiang Cheng saw Nie Mingjue frown at that - probably remembering all the times Wei Wuxian publicly refused to wear his sword.

“How close are we to war?” Jiang Cheng asked, and as a distraction, it worked. It was also a legitimate question: his first time though, Jiang Cheng hadn’t been unaware of the political tumult, but he was also fifteen and preoccupied by more local matters. Lotus Pier’s policy of “not our business” didn’t help him remember the details.

Well, the details before it burned.

The conversation shifted into a true council of war; the Wen forces acted much the same as before, which confirmed to Nie Huaisang that there probably wasn’t another rogue time traveler on the loose. Unlike before, however, Nie Mingjue had been busy, setting Meng Yao to the task of establishing correspondence (in Nie Mingjue’s name, of course) between the other major sects, seeking to bring them closer together earlier, to hopefully fend off some of the destruction.

So far, it hadn’t worked.

“Wen Xu is already marching on Cloud Recesses,” Lan Wangji said, and Nie Mingjue nodded.

“I have a team of Nie disciples ready to escort you back to Gusu, to aid in the defence of your home. They will be ready to leave in the morning, you should make better time if you fly, and should beat Wen Xu there.” Lan Wangji bowed his thanks, and leaned into Wei Wuxian when he attached himself to Lan Wangji’s side. Jiang Cheng didn’t watch - it seemed that the lovebirds finally realized that their responsibilities were pulling them in two different directions, for now.

Turning away, Jiang Cheng met Nie Mingjue’s eyes, and followed him from the chamber towards a reunion of his own.

Part 3B: The Road to War!

[sonicasura]

Balan Wonderworld Review: Favorite Costumes Part 2

Before we get started, I like to say something. I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE TIM TRAPS. If you don't know, there is a specific plant that tends to appear in certain levels called Tim Traps. A carnivorous orange flower that's favorite meal is TIMS. If you kick the plants, you can free your Trapped Tim or prevent one from getting trapped for a short period of time. Problem is if the Tim is trapped for too long, your baby is gone for good. Chapter 3 and Chapter 5's Act 3 are loaded with these annoying plants. To the point if I can't find the trapped Tims, I exit out of the game just to save my poor fluffballs. Ain't sacrificing my little birds for Drops and Trophies! Mini rant over.

Rules are the same as before. I'd be ranking both a Common Costume and Rare Costume. Common Costumes are easily to find whether it be in multiple levels and Rare Costumes are those that rarely appear or are difficult to get.

I'll be doing my favorite Secret Costume after playing all Act 3s for each chapter. Now let's begin.

Chapter 7

Common Costume- Floaty Flower

The Flower Fairy and greatest glider found in the main story. Floaty Flower is a costume that can be found in the Act 1, 2 and the Boss Act, it offers a slower descent but faster movement than the hover for Soaring Sheep.

I love this costume not for its aesthetic but a cute Easter Egg I found in Chapter 7 Act 1. On rare occasions, this costume is an NPC that actually flirts with you! Some NPCs in certain chapters act differently from their standard counterpart. They often try to disguise themselves or runaway. Catching them grants you a free costume of the one you caught.

Floaty Flower will appear and follow you, similar to a shy school girl with a crush. If you go to her, she will run which is a similar action to any shy person getting approached by their crush. Also... I think there is some lore hidden in this one that might be quite sad if it's directly linked to Cal, the human whose heart created this particular world. If so then... OOF.

Rare Costume - Paladin Puncher

A knight fights with his fists than a sword. This costume can be found in Act 2 and is a stronger version of the Pumpkin Puncher that can break iron or ice blocks. He's a bit slower than his Chapter 6 counterpart but perfect breaking the more blocks and defeating spiky enemies.

I also love the fact this costume goes against the traditional tools of a knight. Knights often fight using swords, shields, lances and rare occasions bows or axes. If you give me one who PUNCHES or straight uses martial arts to fight then you got my vote in seconds.

Chapter 8

Common Costume - Snow Fairy

Elegant dancer of ice and snow. The Snow Fairy costume allows the wearer to walk on air for a short period of time and can in found in Act 1 and Act 2. This costume does have a shorter usage time than Air Cat but makes up for it with the added elevation.

I absolutely adore how elegant and beautiful this particular costume is. You can compare the Snow Fairy to myths often related to fae or hidden in the freezing mountains. An otherworldly beauty that makes any hardship worth seeing just a being before your eyes. Being a reindeer type Faun just adds to the mystique and creating snowflakes to walk on is a perfect extra touch.

Rare Costume - Amadeus

Sophisticated pianist. A costume that can only be found in Act 1 and is a performing costume. Now I am a big fan of piano covers, whether it be covers of game osts or actual songs, there is rarely any piano music I don't like.

I love the fact he's wearing piano keys as a collar and even has a tutu made out of those very keys. A very creative take to a normally grounded instrument. And the big white wig is a nice touch since it's often portrayed with pianists in various media.

Chapter 9

Common Costume- Iron Panda

Adorable crusher. Iron Panda is a costume found in Act 1 and Act 2 with the ability to break iron blocks using both its jump and weight. This costume is surprisingly fast for a rather large and heavy form, perfect for fast stomps on enemies or quick getaways if you have rare costumes you don't want to lose.

This costume reminds of a rolling Russian Doll with a panda theme. Very adorable, the bluish purple color suits the white very nicely and I love that sleepy look on its face. The large blue dots on its sides are actually the arms too, they mimic panels! Only thing that unnerves me is when the costume turns their head by a 90 degree angle. Super creepy when using it.

Rare Costume- Merry Ghost

Cute and Spooky! The Merry Ghost is a costume that can be found in Act 2 and gives the ability to constantly float. It's main purpose is to avoid ground hazards like poison swamps and has a larger slightly floaty jump. The only downside is that you can't harm enemies with this, it's only for quick mobility.

Very adorable especially with the stitched rag cloak covering the body. It has this Mimikyu sort of vibe but also a Casper the Friendly Ghost aura too. Friendly spirits are often tossed aside for more vicious or antagonistic ones in a lot of media. Getting an adorable friendly one just adds points in my book and a good pal for Casper.

Chapter 10

Common Costume - Inky Blaster

Yuji Naka's take on a squid kid. This costume can be found in Act 1, Act 2 and the Boss Act. She allows the wearer to throw fast globs of rainbow paint at opponents or targets and is decently agile.

Love that her hands are paintbrushes and is based on the octopus. Tentacles mimicking the frills of a dress and used for hair and feet? A very creative take and splattering rainbow paint on the annoying types of Negati (looking at you ya divebomb happy Pelican and destroyer of most of my good costumes) is very therapeutic.

Rare Costume- Air Unicorn

The first unicorn I like?! This costume can only be found in Act 1 and allows the user to walk on air farther than Air Cat. The practical godfather of mobility, and recovery. You won't believe how many times this costume has gotten me to very difficult areas and saved me from death via falling into the abyss.

It is a very tricky costume to find but if you turn around, there's a large paintbrush on the wall. You need the Double Jumper to get on top but you'll be able to see a hidden mirror. That is where the Air Unicorn is located.

I won't lie that unicorns are not my preferred mythological creature. I live in America where unicorns tend to be oversaturated to oblivion and don't get me started on My Little Pony. The show isn't my cup of tea but I do have some followers and friends who are fans. People have their own opinions and it's rude to question them about it.

I honestly love the elegant but cute design, the purple, pale pink and cyan just fit well with the white, I also love that the mane mimics a paintbrush tip and the large light purple collar of fur is a perfect touch to this fine design.

Chapter 11

Common Costume - Bulldozer

A man's punny best friend! This costume can be in Act 1, Act 2 (?), and the Boss Act. It lets you push special construction blocks and you can boost the push speed by button mashing.

They definitely took a lot of creative for costumes in Chapter 11 amongst the other ones in my opinion. Fire Stations tend to have some animal companions with dogs being the most common but instead of a Dalmatian for the design they used a Bulldog! 😍

Like the aforementioned machine, this good boy is bulky, has the appropriate color scheme and even the hands turn into bulldozer's shovel when using the ability! I love the fact his tail is wagging when you push a block and it wags faster if ya button mash!

Also the name is a pun!

Rare Costume - Fiery Blaster

Pyromancer of Lions. The Fiery Blaster costume can only be found in Act 2. It gives the wearer that ability to throw large fireballs alongside fire and lava immunity. If you hate lava levels or have difficulty with this Chapter's boss then I recommend getting this Costume.

First thing I like to say about this particular design is how they use the colors. Looking at the mane, you can see how the red and darker red are patterned in a way to mimic flames. The dark red fur on the feet are even in fire like a pattern. The outfit such as the yellow and brownish kilt alongside the gloves spewing fire around the wrists just reminds me of a fire dancer.

I can see this fella wielding one of the torches a fire dancer uses and just put on a spectacular show.

Chapter 12

Another loveable version of a beloved icon. The Invisible Man costume can be found in Act 1, Act 2 and the Boss Act. It has the power to turn the wearer invisible for a period of time and become undetected to enemies that aren't bosses.

Agile and perfect to deal with enemies who are very annoying or are difficult snipers. You don't know how satisfying it is to give the more aggravating Negati an invisible middle finger by sneak attacking them. I have lost many costumes whenever enemies got the drop on me so it's fair to dish out payback.

I love how this design takes aspect from the popular icon but also have it relate to their human counterpart. Bandages were used by the original Invisible Man to cover skin his normal clothing couldn't cover in public and made it easier for him to disappear when needed.

The shoes and arms being covered in bandages and some of the bandages being used as bangs for the hair is a nice touch.

Rare Costume - Jolt Tiger

Immovable Taser. This costume can only be found in Act 2. It grants electricity immunity and create a barrier when you stand still. One of the better costumes for baiting particular enemies. You do have to be careful because a single itch will stop the barrier.

If you don't know, the Tiger is my Chinese Zodiac and electricity is one of my favorite elements. Love the yellow lightning bolt flairs and even the black stripes mimic lightning too! I also like the will o' wisp pattern on the stomach and the large tuft of grayish fur around the chest. The design puts it above the Sun Walker.

And that is it! The next thing I will cover is the level design and it's music. The bosses will be done last since it's good to save the best for last!

Until next time folks, see you back in Wonderworld.

[cailjei]

For the gift exchange of @worstloki . My giftee is @palletprincess . I truly hope you enjoy this!

The sound of a door creaking woke Thor from his slumber. A thin ray of moonlight passed through the drapes, illuminating the room. His gaze immediately snapped to the door. Loki stood there, his face looking otherworldly pallid under the light of Asgard’s moons. He seemed unsure of what to do.

Thor sat up in his bed. “Brother?”

There was a pause, before Loki asked timidly “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” Loki stepped through the door uncertainly. “What happened?”

Loki hesitated for a moment. He casted his gaze on the floor. “I had a nightmare.”

Thor scooted over to make room for his brother, pulling off the bedcovers and patting the now empty space beside him. Loki slid under the blankets. It was impossible to see it in the dark but now that they were near each other, shoulders and arms touching, Thor could feel his brother trembling. “What was the nightmare about?”

“I don’t remember.” Loki answered a bit too quickly. It was a pitiful attempt at a lie, which was weird coming from Loki, who usually was so artful at his deceits. Nonetheless, Thor was tired enough to let it go. “It’s alright. Let’s just go to sleep.”

Thor had almost fallen asleep, when he heard Loki whisper. “It was so cold. Their eyes were glowing like embers, burning in the dark. And they came for me. The Jotnar monsters.”

Thor knew that his brother was scared of the Jotnar. It was the only threat of their nursemaid, Hilde, that had actually taken root. And ever since Hilde had understood it, she had used it ruthlessly. Every time his brother was causing mischief, Hilde would say that the Jotnar would come and steal him in the night and eat him. Loki, despite putting on a brave front would pale every time he heard it.

“They won’t come. And even if they do, I won’t let them take you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

They were suspended above the void, Loki’s fingers wrapped around one of Gungnir’s ends as Thor tightly held the other. Loki looked more vulnerable than Thor had ever seen him, since they were both children and Loki slipped into his bedchambers, in the middle of the night, seeking help to ward off his nightmares. Thor could see Loki breaking a little more every moment that passed, but he could never have guessed that Odin’s words would send him over the edge, not until he saw his expression, shifting from desperation to resignation. Loki’s fingers loosened their grip and Thor screamed as his brother let go, because there was nothing else he could do, nothing that could keep his brother from falling into the abyss. And then he was being hauled up to the bridge by Odin.

“Loki!” Thor yelled, feeling paralysed, staring over the edge, at Loki who seemed to get smaller and smaller with each passing second, as if he was being consumed by the darkness surrounding him. For a wild moment, Thor had half a mind to follow him, but the urge passed before he could realise it. Then he heard Odin uttering some arcane words in an ancient tongue. Loki’s form was enveloped by white light, and suddenly he disappeared. Thor terrified turned to his father, who was gazing onto the bridge again. He followed Odin’s stare only to find his brother, laying in a heap, prone and unmoving. Thor looked questioningly at Odin.

“It’s a sleeping spell. It will keep him calm until we can get him to the infirmary.”

Thor ran to Loki and turned him over. Loki’s face was slack, youthful in his senselessness, all evidence of his previous madness erased. He didn’t know what else to do, other than yell at Loki what the Hel he was thinking, or crush him into a hug and never let go. Since he could hardly manage the first, he had to be satisfied with the latter. So he gathered Loki into his arms, pressing him tightly in his chest and got up, following Odin to the healing ward.

The days following his failed coronation were the most difficult thing Thor had ever had to endure. It felt as though the world had turned upside down and yet he still had to pretend that everything was as it used be. He had to attend a lot of council meetings regarding inter-realm relations, as well as the fate of his brother. Odin had declared Loki to not be of sound mind and -as much as Thor hated to think about his brother that way- it made their job of defending his actions against the council and the representatives of the other realms so much more easier.

And as terrible as it was for him, he could only guess how horrid it was for Loki.

Loki who had not spoken a word since being rescued at the broken rainbow bridge. When Thor visited the infirmary, he mostly stared into the distance, ignoring him. At the rare occasion when Thor said something particularly stupid, Loki would turn and look at him with dull eyes. To be honest, Thor himself did not know how to feel about Loki and about what Loki had done. He alternated between guilt and fury and worry and sorrow.

And then there was their family secret.

Three days after the incident at the Bifrost, Thor’s parents had bid him into Odin’s study. “We need to talk to you.” Frigga had said. “It’s about your brother.” And Thor had come. His parents had both seemed awkward at first, as he took the chair in front of them. Odin spoke first. “Your brother is not our son by blood. He is our son by heart.” The words felt like one of his many practiced speeches.

Thor did not know what to say, he did not even know what to feel about it. All these years and the thought had never crossed his mind. Looking back now he could see how different his brother had always been, both in appearance and personality. And yet, Thor could not think Loki as anything other than his brother. Odin went on, apparently unaware of Thor’s shock, his gaze turning distant.

“It was years ago, during our war with Jotunheim. After I fought Laufey, I found him, abandoned in a temple, left to die of exposure. Laufey’s son. I will confess, my first thought was that I could use him, I could unite our realms through him. So I brought him home. I may have had plans for him, but soon enough they all changed, as I came to love him as if he were my own. Perhaps I erred, in hiding from him what he was. But that was not my intent. I thought him to be happy. I truly thought him happy.”

“It can’t be. He cannot be one of them. The Jotnar are monsters! Loki is... clever and witty and wily and... and not a monster!” Even as he said that, he thought of his brother, hell-bent on destruction at the Bifrost, feral and wild, crying and cackling. And on this occasion alone, Thor could imagine him blue-skinned and red-eyed, monstrous. The next moment he felt sickened by his own train of thought.

“They are not monsters Thor. Don’t ever say that again.” Frigga hissed. “He is your brother, regardless of his race.”

Thor just gaped. “All these years, you let us believe -you let both of us believe- that the Jotnar were monsters! That they were nothing more than monsters! How could you, when the one you call son was one of them-”

“We never taught you as such. But we couldn’t control the people’s opinions... And after the war the Aesir’s hearts were hardened against the Jotnar.”

“But you could have taught us otherwise. You could have taught us the truth.”

His parents had nothing to say to that. At last Odin spoke. “I will admit that we could have handled it better. But, in all honesty, I had thought that he’ll never know. We only sought to protect him from the truth.”

“So that means that he knows?” Thor asked in the end, even though he had the sneaking suspicion that he already knew the answer to his query. For there was no other explanation for his brother’s sudden bout of insanity.

“He does.” Answered Frigga.

Thor had heard enough. He excused himself and left. He had a lot to think about.

The next day, after Thor completed his obligations, he headed towards the healing chambers. Loki was there to heal, but the healers had no idea how to aid him. His magic was bound, much to his dismay. Thor visited daily, but today he was there for a different purpose. After he reached the door, he stilled himself, readying for the battlefield that this conversation will be. Then he knocked, mostly to inform Loki of his presence, and entered without awaiting for his response.

Loki lay on the bed, curled on his side, his arms wrapped around his waist and his back on the door. For a moment, he wondered whether his brother still slept, but once Thor noticed his breathing pattern he could tell that Loki was awake. Thor sat on the chair beside the bed, as usual.

“Loki, turn to face me. Please. We need to talk. It is long overdue.”

Loki did not answer him. He did not turn around either. Thor struggled not to sigh audibly. “I know what you are.” Loki’s breath hitched. “But I also know who you are. My brother, my best friend, my closest confidant. My equal.”

For the first time in four days, Loki spoke. “You must have lost what little wits you had about you if you think to call a Jotun your brother, much less your equal. I would have thought that by now, we both have learnt that I am neither.” His voice was raspy from disuse and thick with disgust.

“That is not true. As children we’ve played together and as men we’ve fought together, side by side. I know you as I know no one else. You may not be my brother by blood, but that is not the only measure of brotherhood. The Jotnar are not monsters. And you are not one either.”

Loki finally turned to face him. “And they would have it that I am mad. Whence did that sudden love for the Frost Giants came? You had no qualms about slaying them all. You said so yourself. And yet, one of them is standing right before you, wrapped in false Aesir skin and instead of making good use of your prized hammer, you call it brother and dilly-dally your time making polite conversation with it!”

Thor was momentarily stunned. He hated the way Loki seemed to think about himself. He was also unable to discern what his brother was referring to. In the end, a distant memory clawed its way on the forefront of his thoughts. “I was but a child. I didn’t know any better. And I was wrong to hold such opinions.” Loki’s eyes widened in surprise. There was a brief pause. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.” Added Thor at last.

Loki chuckled bitterly. “But a few days ago, you were ready to kill them all, to start a war with them over petty insults, to make them learn their place. And in the space of a three day vacation on Midgard you changed completely. All those years, I was the only one to see your flaws, your arrogance, your temper, your impulsiveness, your tendency to act before you think and I did my damnedest to try and change them, and when that proved impossible, I did what I could to keep you away from the throne, before your hot-headiness doomed Asgard. And as if you did not already set an impossible standard, suddenly you return from your banishment, all flaws wiped away, ready to consign me to your shadow, forever this time. For how can I escape it now?”

“I wouldn’t have ruined Asgard!” Thor felt genuinely hurt that his brother seemed to hold him in such low regard. His aforementioned temper began to rear its ugly head again.

Loki laughed, hysterically. “You wouldn’t have done it all at once. But given a few centuries, I am certain-”

And Thor exploded. “You didn’t just do it for Asgard! You always were jealous of me. I never did understand why, for what petty reasons-”

Loki’s face hardened. “Of course. This is what I am, isn’t it? Everything I do is either from envy or from spite, there is always some sort of malicious intent behind my actions. Everything that’s ever wrong, it is that way because of me, it could never be you, the golden son, the flawless, glorious prince, the mightiest warrior of Asgard. This is what everyone believes, isn’t it? I am a trickster, the Liesmith, a snake in the bosom of the royal family, finally revealed for what I truly am-”

“I do not believe that.”

“And I don’t believe you. All those centuries of being dismissed as the lesser prince, my talents belittled as yours were cherished, of being in your shadow until I became one.”

“I never thought myself as your better.” Even as he said that he remembered, not a week ago, saying to his brother to know his place. He flushed. “I didn’t mean- I was just angry-”

“Ha. You always are. Angry or upset or-” Loki cut himself off and breathed deeply through his nose. “I don’t want your sentimental nonsense. I am not interested in your worthless excuses either. Go.”

“Loki...”

“Leave me be.” Loki said, his voice flat and cold, turning away and curling into himself again, in a movement that reminded Thor of a snake coiling in preparation for brumation.

Stubbornly, Thor attempted to start again the conversation, but his efforts were all for naught. In the end he left, having achieved none of his goals.

That night, sleep would not come for Thor. Certainly, it was not for lack of effort. The conversation with his brother was replaying in his mind, over and over. Sometimes, Loki frustrated him to no end. Other times he got angry on himself, for his mishandling of the situation. He tossed and turned until giving up finally when only the smallest moon was still hanging in the night sky.

It was true that his brother’s seidr was scorned since it was considered a womanly art. His cunning and keen wit were appreciated by few when applied to strategy in battle, but Loki’s preferred method of manipulating social circumstances and lying, even by omission, were thought as cowardly. ‘A warrior’s way is as straight as the sword he wields.’ Were the words of their weapon-master, Tyr. Tyr had often berated Loki for not leaving up to that standard. And Thor- he didn’t recall berating exactly, but he most certainly teased. He didn’t have malicious intentions, he didn’t want his brother to feel bad, but in retrospect, he could see how his comments, or the ones by their friends could be taken as offence, even if at the time they were received with a wicked smirk and a retaliation in the form of a snide remark, usually about the intelligence of the offending party. And, on second thought, although he held Loki in high regard, he had underestimated his brother’s talents in the past. Loki had spoke true, he had been arrogant and thoughtless. He still was, from time to time. Perhaps he ought to admit to his faults. It wouldn’t solve everything, but just maybe it could be a start, the new beginning they both seem to need.

When the morning arrived, Thor mustered the courage to go to Loki’s room again. He rapped his knuckles on the healing room’s door, ready to burst in without permission, when Loki’s tired, thin voice came to him through the wood. “Have I not make it clear enough yet that I do not desire your mindless chatter?”

Thor could not help the smile that graced his lips. If you excluded the weariness in his tone, Loki almost sounded normal, like every time Thor interrupted something he deemed important. How Thor wished everything was that simple, as it was during their youthful squabbles. “Can I enter? Please, brother.”

A sigh was heard from the other side of the door. Thor could almost imagine the exasperated expression in Loki’s face. “My wishes do not really matter now, do they?”

“Of course they do and if you truly think there is no hope to mend what is between us, then I will go. But, if you hold even a sliver of hope in your heart, let me in.”

Another sigh, softer this time. “Come in.”

Thor opened the door, standing awkwardly in the doorway. Then he ventured forth, taking the chair beside his brother. “I have thought long and hard about this. And I wanted to apologise, for I have indeed wronged you.”

If anything, Loki seemed annoyed at this. “Is this your attempt to appease me for my imagined slights?”

Thor pressed on. “I have underestimated you in the past. I failed to recognise that while our skills may differ, they are of equal importance. In fact, when it comes to ruling, cunning, diplomacy and the ability to decide with your mind rather than your heart, are perhaps more important than prowess in the battlefield.”

Loki gaped at him. “You can’t mean that. You witless oaf! I... I almost killed you! And you apologise for merely-”

“I do not believe you intended it. Had I not been a mortal, the strike would not have killed me.”

“I- I was so angry, I did not think-”

“Sshh. It is alright.” Thor hesitantly put his hand on Loki’s nape. When Loki did not pull away, but instead leaned into the touch, Thor pulled him closer still, until their foreheads touched. For the first time in this bleak week he felt something like hope. Things were not well. But they could be mended.

[crazyclouds5281]

Royal Knights AU Chapter 1

Inspired by @deroko-sinnermode‘s art

The Pale King was not an explorer. He never set out into the wilderness with nothing but the clothes on his shell and what provisions he could fit in his bag, camping out in the uncivilised tunnels of Hallownest. He may have memorised the official maps of his kingdom, but reclusive as he was, he’d never actually gone out and seen most of the sights for himself. He’d left his adventurous days behind him, along with the decaying corpse of his original Wyrm form, and secluded himself in his Pale Palace, rarely leaving.

As such, there were many things the Pale King did not know of his land. Tunnels and passages that were not recorded on any maps, dens and nests of vicious creatures that killed all who trespassed, such that there were none alive who knew of their presence. The lair of Nosk, the treacherous mimic of Deepnest, was hidden from his light. The vile experiments of the Soul Sanctum were unknown to the one praised as all-knowing. The surface town of Dirtmouth had never occupied his thoughts in anything more than passing wonderance. And at the crown of Hallownest, far above Crystal Peak, was the statue of the Old Light, which the Pale King would surely have blown to smithereens- if only he knew it existed.

The Pale King, nowhere near as omniscient as his subjects believed, also did not know that there was more than one way to escape the Abyss.

---

The Vessel could not get the burning pale light out of its mind. So painful to those eyes born in darkness, yet so entrancing, enticing, calling it to ascend from the pit, heedless of the hundreds of its siblings that fell to their death around it. The dozens it itself sent tumbling back into the pitch black, thinking only of removing any obstacle in its climb. Others had similarly tried to bring it down, but this Vessel was stronger, battering them off the nearest ledge and continuing on its way.

Strong though it might have been, it was not the strongest. Not the fastest. By the time it had reached that metal bridge, hanging desperately onto the edge, so close to the pale light it could almost reach out and touch it, another Vessel was already there. Before it stood the embodiment of the pale light, and it heard the words of the Pale King.

“You shall seal the blinding Light that plagues their dreams. You are the Vessel. You are the Hollow Knight.”

The Pale King turned and left, followed by the Hollow Knight, who glanced back at the struggling Vessel. For a moment, their dark eyes met, and though it was designed to be without emotion, the Hollow Knight felt some measure of pity for its struggling sibling- not that it knew what the slight pain in its empty heart meant. However, the Hollow Knight was more compelled to follow the pale light of its sire, which was getting further and further away the longer it dallied, so it turned its back on its sibling. The first of its kind to ever escape the Abyss.

It would not be the last.

The great doors slammed shut, sealed by the King’s Brand, forever locked, and the Vessel fell down, down, down, back into the place of its birth, the graveyard of its less fortunate siblings. Resigned to its fate, the Vessel went limp, understanding without understanding that only death remained. It simply waited for the moment when its shell cracked open on the corpse-covered ground, to become yet another in a sea of broken masks. It was not expecting to be caught on the way down.

Hundreds of eggs, thousands of grubs had been sacrificed to the Void by the Pale King in his now-finished search for the Hollow Knight. He thought them truly empty, unable to feel emotion, to think for themselves, little more than automatons. Not alive, just the reanimated corpses of his children, puppeted by Void.

What a fool he was. The Vessels were the progeny of the Pale King and White Lady, beings of Mind and Life. Powerful though the Void was, even it could not devour the godlings without their eggs being dropped directly into the Void Sea. Instead, by exposing the eggs to the miasma of the Abyss, the darkness had seeped into them, mixing with- not consuming- what was inside, creating a unique species.

Shells of hardened Void, masks of solidified Soul, organs of twisted Root, and brains of shaped Mind; the Vessels were an amalgamation of the four mystic elements. They were alive, they could feel and think, even if they did not know what emotions or thought were. Young as they were, the Vessels were driven purely by instinct. And that instinct told them to follow the pale light, for it would lead them to their father, who would pull them free of the darkness. Instead, they were cast down to their deaths, by their siblings or by their own missteps.

Root and Soul gave physical form. Mind gave mental form. The Void, alongside physical form, also gave the Vessels spiritual form. From the thousands of broken masks rose a legion of Shades, pitch black ghosts with Soul-white eyes.

The Shades would not let the last living Vessel in the Abyss join their ranks. Hundreds of them flew together, melding into a floating blob of Void, and the final Vessel dropped into the undulating mass. It bounced once, then lay there, dazed.

The combined Shades lowered the Vessel onto the shell-covered floor, dispersing back into their singular forms and crowding around it. They nuzzled against the sole living creature, ghostly black masks somehow making contact. The Vessel was jostled upright, standing on stubby legs. It stared blankly at its dead siblings, mind far gone, still entranced by the glimpse of the Pale King.

It had to get to him. There had to be another way out of the Abyss, another way to reach that pale light, even if it would not reach for them.

---

Time meant nothing in the Void. The Vessel searched and searched, enlisting the help of the Shades, and would have kept looking for eternity if it had to. Along the way, they found many strange things.

Through a tunnel, there was a towering structure, which bathed the Void Sea in yellow light, quelling the bottomless depths. A corpse lay in the top, of a creature unlike any of the siblings. It didn’t do anything other than lay there, obviously, so the siblings quickly lost interest in it.

Halfway up the pit was a dais with a glowing blue rock in it- a locking mechanism for the door beyond it, most likely. It couldn’t be opened, just like the door sealed by the King’s Brand. The siblings moved on.

Far beyond the lighthouse, across the Void Sea and through a stretching tunnel, was a fountain of overflowing Void. The Vessel, curious, jumped in, and attained the ability to warp into a Shade for a moment, passing through all obstacles before reverting back to its original form. It thoroughly startled both the Vessel and its siblings the first time it happened.

On the opposite side of the Abyss was a chamber filled with stone faces, mouths wide open, as if they were screaming. Overcome by an otherworldly voice, an Abyssal Shriek ripped out of the Vessel’s throat, sending a cacophony of Soul and Void into the air, shaped like the wailing visages surrounding it. It shouldn’t have been possible- the Vessels did not have vocal chords. They were not designed to have them. But, such was the arcane nature of Soul (or magic, as many ignorant bugs would call it).

It was in that same room that the Vessel found what it had been looking for. The force of the Abyssal Shriek shook the stone chamber, making dust fall from the ceiling in a heavy cloud. After it cleared, the Vessel noticed a portion of the wall was littered in cracks. Another Abyssal Shriek (and subsequent dust tornado), this time closer, completely shattered the weakened section of fossil stone, revealing a tunnel behind it.

Excited, the Vessel rushed in headfirst. Currently, there were only two Shades with the living Vessel, the others scattered about the rest of the Abyss, searching for alternative avenues of escape. The two ghostly siblings glanced at each other, coming to a decision. One followed the Vessel down the tunnel, while the second returned to the Abyss proper, to inform their siblings of their new discovery.

How unfortunate, then, that not soon after, the weakened foundations of the room collapsed, once more sealing the Abyss off from the rest of the world.

[abysslarchiving]

i’m primarily somewhere else today, but i saw the ship thing and wanted to give it a go ! even though there are some ships i’m partial to, it still pales to the dynamics built through ooc communication, mun interaction, and build up. that being said, i will ship things with no canon basis because i’m unhinged. these are dynamics on my wish list.

mondstadt:

jean ( bffs / childhood best friends / wingman / wingwoman / wlw + mlm solidarity / i’m too cool for romance novels but at the same time can you believe that arturia chose the duke instead of the handsome bard instead, it’s the lack of taste for me — ) lisa ( bffs / childhood best friends / wingman + wingwoman / fwb / romantic / they have tea / gossip sessions every thursday afternoon and trade recommendations about the restricted section of the library ) klee / amber / razor / bennet / fischl / sucrose / noelle ( older brother kaeya dynamic pls, pls, pls ) + barbara ( bffs with kaeya primarily because they both scheme on how to get jean a significant other, otherwise kaeya rarely goes to the cathedral ) diluc ( i want them to be brothers again so badly, pls, just a smidge of reconciliation ) literally anyone at the dawn winery ( familial relations :gun: hand them over ) venti ( kaeya wanted to learn his secrets but ended up becoming drinking buddies instead / knows something is up with this chaotic gremlin but will keep his mouth shut because he appreciates the friendship ) albedo ( otp / frienemies / enemies / platonic / fwb / romantic / you use the alchemy art that killed my nation pls respond ) mona ( frienemies / you cannot be lied to and i keep lying do you wanna make out / but otherwise / possibly romantic ? / platonic / pls kaeya comes from khaenri’ah he is also an astrology bitch, i want them to be friends / but only if you can be friends with a sagittarius sun - gemini moon - scorpio rising ) rosaria ( frienemies / enemies / fwb ? exes ? / idk man something happened between those two and i wanna know, i wanna know so bad ) varka ( kaeya had a crush on him when he was still a squire which he eventually grew out of but jeans, dilucs, and other knights are free to tease him about it / want that mentor relationship though / want that someone who saw things in kaeya and believed he was destined for greatness ) other knights ( friendship ??? camaraderie ??? please ??? ) huffman ( the running joke on this blog has always been that they’re frienemies ) wagner ( had a one night stand once, kaeya still flirts occasionally, no you will not change my mind ) pallad ( dfghjk i’m joking, stay away pls and thanks ) dvalin ( dvalin if you read this i’m free on thursday night and would like to hang out / please respond to this and then hang out with me on thursday night when i am free )

liyue:

zhongli ( i saw cute art once and went owo / platonic / fwb / romantic / you have secrets and a billion stories to tell while i love secrets and love listening to people’s stories / coincidence ? i think not ) beidou ( drinking buddies / both of you require so many of my treasure hoarder coins so you might as well become friends when hunting for them / wingman + wingwoman / my grandfather was a pirate i swear i know how to sail properly — ) ningguang ( fwb / one night stand / they still flirt occasionally but lbr they’re both too narcissistic to be more than friends / wingman + wingwoman / can we talk ? one ten to another ? i’m an eleven but continue ) keqing ( frienemies ? reluctant allies ? idk i just feel like she wouldn’t like him / yes i do sort of ship them romantically but i cannot even begin to start telling you why ) xiangling ( older brother dynamic but also / what do you mean this is spicy ? the hottest thing on the menu ? are you sure ? / kaeya’s love of spicy food + cryo vision + no preservation instinct = interesting customer ) chongyun ( i saw cute art and now want an older brother dynamic / cryo buddies ) actually that includes xingqiu / xingyan ( older brother dynamic pls ) this includes xiao ( treats similarly like a siblings or annoying friend / no it doesn’t matter if you’re older than me by a few millenia / i have a feeling xiao would hate kaeya instinctively because of attitude ) master zhang ( kaeya flirts with him when he’s in liyue but hasn’t gotten a response yet ) baizhu ( oh doctor, please ~ i’m in need of your healing / okay, then i perscribe bedrest and three doses of [ redacted ] a day / wait, no, this isn’t what i wanted — )

snezhnaya:

childe ( otp / i trip and all the chaeya doodles i’ve drawn fall out of my pockets / possible childhood friends ? “met in the abyss” friends ? incredibly chaotic shifty friends ? / frienemies / fwb / enemies with benefits / enemies / enemies to lovers / i really am so weak for this ship and interactions / ooo even wingmen dynamic / i just want them to interact ) foul legacy ( winks ) signora ( cryo friends pls interact / general alignment does not matter )

inazuma:

ayaka ( as stated above cryo friends pls interact )

khaenriah:

dainsleif ( otp / incredibly wary acquaintances ? family friends ? family acquaintances / kaeya learned about the bough bearer in khaenri’ahn mythology class ? frienemies ? enemeies ? enemies to lovers / there are so many question marks because i have no idea how they’d interact but i want all of it / dainsleif roleplayers pls talk to me pspspsps )

other:

fatui skirmishers / cicins / agents ( twirls hair around finger / hi ) abyss heralds ( :flushed: / :hot face: / :sweating: ) cryo abyss mages ( hey, you’re actually where i learned like eighty percent of my technique and aesthetic so, you’re cool, and i might not even try to kill you out in the field as long as you don’t hurt my party, okay ? ) oc’s ( :gun: hand them over )