#and also technically lead CAN be turned into gold

[puppyluver256]

Let's all remember the real reason for the season tonight. A highly influential man was born on this day many, many years ago. A man whose life's work led to inspire many people in his wake.

Give it up for our main man Isaac!!

Happy Newtonmas, everybody :D

[greenwitchcrafts]

September 2023 witch guide

SEPTEMBER 2024:

September 2023 witch guide

Full moon: September 29th

New moon: September 14th

Sabbats: Mabon September 23rd

September Harvest Moon

Also known as: Autumn moon, falling leaves moon, song moon, leaves turning moon, moon of brown leaves, yellow leaf moon, wine moon & Full corn moon

Element: Earth

Zodiac: Virgon& Libra

Animal spirits: Trooping Faeries

Deities: Brigid, Ceres, Ch'ang-o, Demeter, Freya, Isis & Vesta

Animals: Jackal & snake

Birds: Ibis & sparrow

Trees: Bay, hawthorn, hazel & larch

Herbs/plants: Copal, fennel, rye, skullcap, valerian, wheat & witch hazel

Flowers: Lily & Narcissus

Scents: Bergamot, gardenia, mastic & storax

Stones: Bloodstone, chrysolite, citrine, olivine, peridot & sapphire

Colors: Browns, dark blue, greens & yellows ( Earth tones)

Energy: Balance of light & dark, dietary matters, employment, health, intellectual pursuits, prosperity, psychism, rest, spirituality, success & work environments. Also cleaning & straightening mentally, physically & spiritually.

Technically, the Harvest Moon is the Full Moon closest to the September equinox around September 21st. The Harvest Moon is the only Full Moon name determined by the equinox rather than a month. Most years, it’s in September, but around every three years, it falls in October.

In September, the Full Moon is the Corn Moon from the Native American tribes harvesting their corn. It can also be the Harvest Moon, which corresponds with the Anglo-Saxon name, while Celtic and Old English names are Wine Moon, Song Moon, and Barley Moon.

Mabon

Also known as: Autumn Equinox, Cornucopia, Witch's Thanksgiving & Alban Elved

Season: Fall

Symbols: Acorns, apples, autumn leaves, berries, corn, cornucopia (horn of plenty), dried seeds, gourds, grains, grapes, ivy, pine cones, pomegranates, vines, wheat, white roses & wine

Colors: Blue brown, drk red, deep gold, gold, indigo, lead green, maroon, orange, red, russet, violet & yellow

Oils/incense: Apple, apple blossom, benzoin, black pepper, hay/straw, myrrh, passion flower, patchouli, pine, red poppy & sage

Animals: Dog, goose, hawk, swan, swallow & wolf

Stones: Agate, amethyst, carnelian, lapis lazuli, sapphire, yellow Agate  & yellow topaz

Foods: Apples, blackberries, blackberry wine, bread, carrots, cider, corn, cornbread, grapes, heather wine, nuts, onions, pomegranates, potatoes, squash, vegetables, wheat & winw

Herbs/plants: Acorn, benzoin, cedar, corn, cypress, ferns, grains, hazel, hops, ivy, myrrh, oak, pine, sage, sassafras, Salomon's seal, thistle, tobacco & wheat

Flowers: Aster, heather, honeysuckle, marigold, milkweed, mum,passion flower& rose

Goddesses: Danu, Epona, Modron, Morrigan, Muses, Pomona, Persephone, Sophia & Sura

Gods: Esus, Green Man, Hermes, Mabon, Mannanan, Toth & Thor

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Accomplishment, agriculture, balance, goals, gratitude & grounding

Spellworks: Balance, harmony, protection, prosperity, security & self confidence

Related festivals:

• Sukkot- is a Torah-commanded holiday celebrated for seven days, beginning on the 15th day of the month of Tishrei. It is one of the Three Pilgrimage Festivals (Hebrew: שלוש רגלים, shalosh regalim) on which those Israelites who could were commanded to make a pilgrimage to the Temple in Jerusalem. In addition to its harvest roots, the holiday also holds spiritual importance with regard to its abandonment of materialism to focus on nationhood, spirituality, and hospitality, this principle underlying the construction of a temporary, almost nomadic, structure of a sukkah.

• Mid-Autumn festival- also known as the Moon Festival or Mooncake Festival, is a traditional festival celebrated in Chinese culture. Similar holidays are celebrated by other cultures in East & Southeast Asia. It is one of the most important holidays in Chinese culture; its popularity is on par with that of Chinese New Year. The history of the Mid-Autumn Festival dates back over 3,000 years. The festival is held on the 15th day of the 8th month of the Chinese lunisolar lunisolar calendar with a full moon at night, corresponding to mid-September to early October of the Gregorian calendar. On this day, the Chinese believe that the Moon is at its brightest and fullest size, coinciding with harvest time in the middle of Autumn.

• Thanksgiving- This is a secular holiday which is similar to the cell of Mabon; A day to give thanks for the food & blessings of the previous year. The American Thanksgiving is the last Thursday of November while the Canadian Thanksgiving is celebrated in October

• Festival of Dionysus- There were several festivals that honored Dionysus, the God of wine. It was a time of fun, games, feasting & drinking wine.

Activities:

•Scatter offerings in a harvested fields, Offer libations to trees

• Decorate your home and/or altar space for fall

• Bake bread

• Perform a ritual to restore balance and harmony to your life

• Cleanse your home of negative energies

• Pick apples

• Have a dinner or feast with your family and/or friends

• Set intentions for the upcoming year

• Purge what is no longer serving you

•Take a walk in the woods

• Enjoy a pumpkin spice latte

• Donate to your local food bank

• Gather dried herbs, plants, seeds & pods

• Learn something new

• Make wine

• Brew an apple cinnamon simmer pot

• Create an outdoor Mabon altar

•Adorn burial sites with leaves, acorns, & pinecones to honor those who have passed over & visit their graves

Many cultures see the second harvest (after the first harvest Lammas) and equinox as a time for giving thanks. This time of year is when farmers know how well their summer crops did, and how well fed their animals have become. This determines whether you and your family would have enough food for the winter. That is why people used to give thanks around this time, thanks for their crops, and animals, and food. 

The name Mabon comes from the Welsh God, who was the son of the Earth Mother Goddess. However, there is evidence that the name was adopted in the 1970s, and the holiday was not originally a Celtic celebration.

Some believe Night and day are of equal legth and the God's energy & strength are nearly gone . The Goddess begins to mourn the loss she knows is coming, but knows he will return when he reborn at Yule.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Wikipedia

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Mabon: Rituals, Recipes & Lore for the Autumn Equinox Llewellyn's Sabbat Essentials

[elletheactualmenace]

Party In France

Pairing: 11th Doctor x fem!reader

Summary: You and the Doctor go to a party in France.

Warnings: guns, suggestive, a window breaks?

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: Enjoy!

“How does this one look?” You ask as you walk into the consol room. You’ve got on a teal and pink dress with white lace on the top rim. It's got a huge train and a tight corset.

The Doctor spins on his heel to look at you. He’s dressed already, but waiting for you to find a dress that you like. His smile morphs into a small frown when his eyes land on you. It makes you worry. Do you really look that bad? You think to yourself.

“What?” You ask the Doctor and his shoulders slump. “It’s a beautiful dress. It just won't work for this party. Plus it doesn’t match my handsome outfit.” He states with a proud smirk plastered on his face. Your worried attitude quickly slips away into an annoyed one. Of course that was the thing he was thinking about.

“Ok, sure. Whatever you say. It would be a felony if the Doctor's plus one didn’t wear a matching outfit.” You sarcastically reply rolling your eyes.

“You know we can’t do this all night, right? We’ll be late.” You utter out with a huff, trying to adjust the corset to be more comfortable against your rib cage.

“Oh, but on the contrary, dear. We are time travelers and with this beautiful machine,” He says in an almost sugar sweet voice towards the control panel. You raise a brow at his tone. “We technically can’t be late to anything.”

“Oh, oh, oh but you forget, my dearest darling,” You mockingly rebuttal. “Our beautiful Tardis doesn't alway like to listen to you. Does she?” You point out, hand on your hip. “So if she wants us to be late, we’ll be late.” The Doctor gives you an unamused look.

“It has happened once or twice, yes.” He mutters quietly, because he doesn’t like being refuted. “You better hurry up then, you annoyingly beautiful, know-it-all. Before I leave you here.” He tuts out. You roll your eyes with a grin.

“Of course, my liege.” You sarcastically remark curtsying. He just smirks and tries to make a sound similar to one of annoyance. But he instead gives in and chuckles with a smile. You turn and shuffle back to the hall leading out of the console room to try on, and probably get another disapproved dress. You smile softly and shake your head at the Doctor's fussiness. But you know that he can tell when you like a dress and when you don’t. He will make you keep trying them on until he knows you like it. He also just likes you putting on snarky attitude fashion shows for him, so he can comment back at you with snarkiness as well.

——

“Doctor?” You tap your foot with an annoyed look on your face. You sense something is off and know it has something to do with him. He just turns to you with a worried expression on his face, and smiles nervously as you raise your eyebrows in confusion.

“Okay umm slight problem,” The Doctor chuckles nervously.

“And the problem being?” You ask, giving him a threatening smile. He breathes out a sigh and looks behind him at the people in huge gowns and fancy suits, like the one he has on. “I may have brought us to the wrong time…” He fiddled with his long blue and gold coat. 

You sigh and put your face in your hands. “Please do not tell me you put that stupid unlucky bow tie of yours on under your outfit” You shake your head and peek from between your fingers to see him scratching the back of his head. You let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Wanted a bit of fun?” He tries, but he seems unconvinced himself.

Both you and the Doctor are wearing clothing from the late 1780s. The Doctor is wearing a blue, gold and white outfit that was commonly worn during the time period. And you finally decided on wearing a classic puffed up blue dress with layers of skirts beneath the colorful top one. The bustle you are wearing is making it hard to breathe. It may have taken you over an hour to find a dress, but you look stunning.

The Doctor had promised you a safe enjoyable night. Obviously it has not gone to plan. The night began slowly and wonderfully. It looked then, like it was going to be, and would stay, calm and normal. Well as normal as a night in the 18th century could be.

“Okay,” you breath out “What have you gotten us into this time?” You sigh hands on your hips.

“You know some French history, right?” He asks, still fiddling with his outfit. “Yes.” You reply looking up at him.

“Okay good, that’s good. Now before I get you too worried or anxious about this whole thing,” he holds out his hand to you. “Let’s get our daily dose of running in. How ‘bout it? What do ya’ say?”

You look at his hand, shake your head, smile and take his hand. “Oh what the hell, Geronimo.” He grins and repeats your words before dashing hand in hand with you through the big 18th century doors.

——

You run with your dress in your hands so it doesn’t trip you. The Doctor runs next to you.

“So,” you pant out, “where are we running to?”

“The Tardis!” He responds. “We shouldn’t be here, so we are leaving.” You nod in understanding.

You both continue to run down the long high ceilinged hall of the palace that the party was taking place in.

“If we aren’t supposed to be here, why did we come in the first place?” Your eyebrows scrunch while you huff and pant down the halls.

“I was invited a long time ago and I assumed it would be fine!” The Doctor says marking a sharp turn and you stumble after him.

“What are we running from?” Ask almost tripping in your heels. The second the Doctor opens his mouth to speak, a loud crash and bomb flashes behind you. You duck and try to cover your head as you continue running. 

“I’m going to kill you,” you mutter and the Doctor takes hold of your hand grinning.

“Promise you can, as soon as we’re safe.”

You continue running, not looking back. Panting as you hold your dress up. The Doctor makes a sharp turn around a corner and you stumble after him.

“Doctor!” You call as you begin falling behind. He glances back.

“Hurry up!” He shouts. You grumble loudly.

“I’m trying!” You shout back. The Doctor slows down to match your pace and grabs your arm.

“I know it’s hard in your outfit, but we’ve really got to go.” The Doctor says in a hasty voice.

“What are we running from?” You pant.

“The French.”

“What?!” You yelp.

The Doctor pulls you with him through large doors and into a room. You double over, hand on your legs, trying to catch your breath.

The Doctor scans his sonic against the doors lock and a sound clicks.

“Okay.” He sighs, turning to the large window opposite you. 

“Stop.” You state firmly making him quickly spin to look at you. His face scrunched with confusion and concern.

“Tell me what’s going on. Right now.” You grumble out angrily as your chest rises and falls as much as possible in the tight bustle.

“Well you know of the French Revolution, yes?” He asks as he turns to begin inspecting the window, trying to avoid eye contact.

You hum with a nod and he continues.

“Alright well, the French people are mad, and the French royals are about to be killed. Or overthrown I suppose.” He huffs trying to open the large window. But it seems to be sealed. He continues.

“And while getting our drinks I found out that some of the people here aren’t in fact French humans.” 

“French aliens?” You ask, confused.

“Yes, French aliens. That I- erm, that I…”

“Insulted? Offended?” You list and the Doctor rolls his eyes.

“Yes and yes.” The Doctor sighs.

The Doctor walks over to you and picks up a fancy looking chair sitting next to you. You move out of his way and watch him as he takes the fancy wooden chair to the window. He lifts it up to his shoulder.

He grins at you before bashing the chair against the glass of the window, in the process tossing it out of the building. Glass sharers all over the floor with a loud crash. The Doctor reaches his hand out for you to take.

“Come on darling,” He grins breathlessly, you roll your eyes at his pet name.

“Fine, but if I die you better leave me in the dress. People should know what you put me through.” 

He scoffs as you take his hand.

“Just come on.” He sighs.

——

Your heels sink into the muddy ground. You have to pull your leg up like a ton of bricks are attached to them just to take a step. The Doctor isn’t having as much trouble. He’s practically walking on it as it’s not there.

“Doctor, slow down!” You whisper yell, and he quickly shushes you.

“Y/n what have I said? You need to stay quiet. It’s a matter of life and death-“

“Not unlike any other day for us,” You comment with a sigh.

“Unfortunately yes, now please, shush!” You roll your eyes but trudge on.

At this point you have given up on your dress, letting it drag in the mud. Hopefully if you are buried in this dress, someone will have the decency to clean it up a little.

“Look! I see the Tardis just over there!” The Doctor smiles and takes hold of your hand. You make sure your grip is firm so his hand doesn’t slip from yours. It’s happened before, he doesn’t even notice so it usually ends bad.

“Thank god.” You say with a relieved smile. 

The Doctor pulls you along with him and you try to keep up in your treacherous outfit. But you don’t have such luck. Your foot slips from your shoe and your body halts completely. In the presses the Doctor gets pulled back. The Doctor looks at you confused.

“Y/n? What’s the matter?” He looks you up and down worried. Why did you stop, did you see something, did you get hurt?

“My shoe’s in the mud and so is my foot.” You practically whine out. “Sorry, we can keep going, it just startled me.” You try to brush off.

“You sure? I can just grab it for yo-“

“Doctor, we're wasting time, just keep waking. This is a useless conversation.” You huff and move to take the lead. This time you are in front.

“Right. But I could just get it-“ You snatch his hand shaking your head as you continue walking. 

“Life and death, remember?” You question as the mud covers my bare foot like a sock. At this point you don’t even care about the mushy mud between your toes. The Doctor just nods, suddenly remembering the seriousness of the situation.

As you near the Tardis you can hear shouting coming closer. You and the Doctor make eye contact, both silently agreeing to sprint the rest of the way to the Tardis. 

The Doctor begins sprinting first, almost making you stumble at his speed. The Doctor quickly drags you along. Your feet continue to sink deep in the mud but this time you push harder to keep up with him.

The shouting becomes louder. And suddenly you and the Doctor are surrounded by people from the party you just escaped. The aliens, you assume when you see their non-human guns. You sigh in defeat.

“Nothing can work with you,” You grumble out, turning to the Doctor. He just smiles at you nervously.

“I can get us out of this,” He whispers to you.

”Hands up! Where we can see them!” One of the men circling you says. You raise your hands in surrender and have to nudge the Doctor with your elbow to do the same.

”Gentlemen, so sorry if we seem suspicious, me and my date were, uh, we were…” The Doctor starts, trying to come up with an excuse.

”We were going to have sex.” You finish for him, ignoring the heat on your checks. It was the only reason you could think of as to why you would be sneaking away. The Doctor's head whips around to face you, his face red and his eyes wide. His brows scrunch as he looks at you.

“What?” The Doctor squeaks out.

”Nevermind what you were going to do,” The man growels out, “You’re coming with us.” He says taking a step closer, and aiming his gun at you. The Doctor seems to snap out of his embarrassment trance when he notices the threatening gun directed towards you.

”Really quickly though, do you mind if me and my date get a few kisses in, in this blue odd looking box?” You ask, smiling shyly. The man looks like he’s thinking it over, and you hold your breath.

”We’ll be quick, you men can be outside the whole time, just for modesty.” The Doctor quickly adds on, glancing at the others surrounding us. The man with the gun grunts and nods.

”Fine, but no more than five minutes you horny scum.” He says pointing for us to move into the Tardis.

You thank him with a curtsy. You and the Doctor rush over to the doors of the Tardis. You make sure not to open the doors too wide so that they can’t see the inside of the Tardis. 

“We’ll be fast.” You add before slipping in, the Doctor quickly follows. 

As the door shuts, the Doctor sighs loudly and leans his weight against the door. You stand, panting, with your hands on your hips. You watch him with a small laugh. Even though you could’ve died, the thrill of getting away was always fun. 

You move over to the console and start it up. You’re not sure where you’re bringing it, just away from France. The Doctor now moves from against the door as the Tardis begins to whirl. 

“What now?” You ask as you begin to loosen the ties on your uncomfortable corset. 

The Doctor says nothing, and it looks like the gears are turning in his head. It looks like he is trying to think back. “I’m pretty sure I remember dealing with this earlier.” The Doctor speaks, still thinking. Your head tilts in confusion.

“Remember?” He asks, “I think I had those sandshoes and the tight suits.” The Doctor pounders aloud.

“You mean the sexy suits?” You ask with a slight smirk. The Doctor blushes, but then becomes a bit defensive.

“You don’t think my tweed jackets are sexy?” He asks with a furrowed brow. You smile playfully.

“I never said that.” You chuckle. The Doctor just rolls his eyes and moves on with the conversation.

“Maybe, but were you thinking it?” He asks suspiciously.

“No. I think you’re quite handsome.” You admit. The Doctor seems content with the answers and turns.

“We really get everywhere.” You note. The Doctor nods and smiles.

“We do, so we can just leave,” The Doctor explains simply as he goes over to the console. He turns knobs and switches, redirecting the Tardis from the random place you put in earlier.

“That’s a first,” You comment with a smile and you pull the ties on your dress even looser.. “It’s kinda nice, though.” You say smirking slightly. 

You walk over to the Doctor to place your hands on his chest. You smile up at him lazily. “Well since we’re off the hook, we did say we’d get a few kisses in.” You mumble up to him. 

The Doctor blushes but smiles. “As you wish,” he says softly, “you horny scum.” The Doctor adds with a playful smirk. He then glances down at your muddy feet.

“Maybe you should get cleaned up first.” He says with a chuckle. You look down to my feet and then to his muddy shoes.

“You’re one to talk.” You utter out, before reaching up to crash your mouth against his.

[le-monchou]

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 || 𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞

literally a continuation of my day two: sea of lights this fic crossed my word limit twice (first 500 and then 700 so now i'm making it 1000 words) also tagging @midnightmah07 and @owlisbuffering

as you expected, you don’t see ruggie bucchi for quite a long time after rescuing him from those fishermen- no matter how long you stroll by the sea coast, the only response to his name is the gentle sea foam, something he called the tears of the moon. despite his self-attested illiteracy, the merman whose hair was as golden as the strands of silk woven by the moon from the sun had many stories to tell, and in the short time you knew him, you dared to think of him as more than a friend. 

you groan as you push your hands onto your face, blood rising in the places where they smacked you a little too hard. am i really so starved for romance that i decided to go after ruggie of all people? he’s not even a person!!!! he’s like spongebob- he lives at the bottom of the sea! you sigh as you remove your hands from your face, watching the sky turn a beautiful orange with the sun’s setting, the moon already risen a little bit in the distance. the area around you reminds you of the day you set him free, and you can’t help the second sigh that escapes your lips. 

taking the boat you’d been lent by one of the fishing crews, you set out into the ocean once again, looking for a nice place to sit and admire the moonlight on the water, waiting for a young man who’d probably never come. sitting on a comfortable-looking rock, you toss the petals of a flower ruggie had mentioned liking the look of when he was restricted to your small bathroom onto the surface of water and scream as bubbles pop up, accompanied by a shishishi you found all too familiar. 

“you!” you seethed as ruggie laughed, doing cartwheels with his entire body on the surface. “miss me?” ruggie teased, sharp canines glistening. “i mean, who else are you waiting for on this rock?” you roll your eyes as ruggie laughs once again before quieting down. “anyway, this is really good timing from both our ends- i’m gonna show you my place so you don’t have to worry!” 

“ruggie. how am i going to breathe underwater?” 

—

“oh woah,” you breathed in the air bubble ruggie had managed to create via a spell he asked the prince about (or so you assumed, because you were reading his lips and he was very distorted underwater), bouncing up and down in the tiny menagerie as ruggie dragged you towards the cave system. “this is where i live,” ruggie mouths as he pushes another vial of potion through the bubble, letting you leave the thing for a bit to swim with him. “this is my home.” 

“it’s wonderful, ruggie.” you smile as he flushes. “i’m serious. you could do so much with a cave system as big as this. show me more!” ruggie harrumphs with flushed cheeks before he grabs your hand and leads you inwards towards his room. at least, if he were human, that’s technically what it’d be, with all the human junk arranged around you and this gigantic skeleton hanging from the ‘ceiling’. “what do you think? arranged it all myself. i mean, leona and jack helped too, of sorts, but it was mostly me.” 

“this is lovely, ruggie!” you beam. “honestly, if i were a mermaid, i’d love to come here and chill with you. too bad i can only swim like this,” you chuckle as ruggie rolls his eyes fondly before kissing you on the cheek. “well, if not now, then maybe in the future,” ruggie starts as he leads you deeper into the cave system, showing you all the marvellous trash from the surface along with the little gems and pearls and gold they find. and as the two of you keep exploring, ruggie realises again that your time together with him is up, so he brings you back to the surface all too reluctantly as you kiss him close to his lips. 

“i loved tonight, ruggie.” you smile as you climb back onto the rock, the boat you loaned still bobbing on the waves of the ocean. “i know it’s a little too early to say this… but i love you, and i hope to see you soon.” something twists on ruggie’s face, something nice and hopeful, and he says nothing as he kisses you goodbye and dives back into the water all flushed, but you think you’ve found your happy ending. i love you, ruggie bucchi.

[dinosquad-central]

Thanks to @quinnsteria we have some Dino Squad concepts! And the character notes are gold (transcriptions below)

Max/T-Rex: good instincts, charm, class president, BMOC; risk-taker, hot-dogger, jock, easy smile and laid-back demeanor, serous de facto leader. Tom Cruise's "Maverick”, big ego, feels like he's leading the Marx Brothers onto the beaches of Normandy. He was winning in life and lost this so he's now a bit bitter

Fiona/Spinosaurus: Billy Murray + "Old" Rosie O'Donnell, speed freak. easy going, fast driving, tomboy-athlete, quick wit, need for speed. When not burning rubber she's “kicking it” with the guys.

Caruso/Stegosaurus: wants to be cool at any price, changes personality at will, bit funny, bit like Scooby, empty headed ego. Thinks he's better than others, ultimate wannabe, incredibly vain and self-centered, attention span of a gnat. Every new passion is his ticket to mega-stardom. A teen version of Ben Stiller's Zoolander, "I'm too sexy for my shirt”.

Buzz/Pteranodon: false hero, scared, bitchy funny, bit like Shaggy, tough-talking loudmouth, all show no guts. Wants to be a tough hero, but afraid of own shadow. The bigger they are, the harder they fear! Joe Pesci as the Cowardly Lion, turned Cowardly Dino.

Rodger/Styracosaurus: Chris Rock + MacGiver, under appreciated, gets no respect, makes cool multi-tools... “and it also makes great cappuccino!” Why? Because it can! wise-cracking, limitless technical skills, drives others crazy with an endless practical jokes.

[quitealotofsodapop]

Poor Mac, everyone thinking/getting mad he abandoned his baby with Wukong when he had no knowledge of this or was part of the making of it technically... But hilarious 😂

Although wonder how everyone reacts when word gotten out Mac was pregnant the same time (with Eclipse twins mentioned in previous ask), his body was just less obvious.

Does this mean a part of his anger at Wukong during TJTTW is because of pregnancy hormones... 🤔

That feel when you and your ex's fighting leads to both of you getting pregnant XD

Mac's only had buns in the oven since he "died" back during the Journey. Turns out getting physically dragged into the Underworld causes a similar biological trigger to being buried in earth.

Once the gang/wider demon public find out, its all question marks and "What!? TWO!?" and Wukong def takes the opportunity to put all the sappy, congradulatory attention onto Mac for once.

Jiuweihuli even apologises to Macaque for her harsh words. Barely. You know grandmama puts Mac on maternity leave the second he complains of swollen ankles or nausea.

Jin and Yin immediately declare Mac's twin eggs to be their proteges despite the shadow monkeys light-hearted pleas.

Jin: "Its twins bruv! Its like destiny!" Yin: "Yeah. We gots to think of matching names!" Jin: "How about something rough and tumble?" Yin: "Yeah! Like; Maul and Ravage!" Jin: "Or maybe like Noisy and Biter?" Macaque: *sighs fondly as the gold-silver twins continue making up ridiculous names for his babies*

Wukong also likes... caring for someone again? Not being the one carrying an Egg is a fresh feeling for once. XD

But he's also super-worried, cus even if his Moon is his equal in battle, Macaque doesn't have the same layers of immortality Wukong does. Macaque has a more calm outlook on the surface, but secretly wonders if the twins are a way for him and Wukong to make up for time lost when Yuebei was still an Egg - even if it ends with his possible passing...

Yuebei seems to notice a change in her bama, and lies her head against Mac's side the gentlest she can (a great feat given her strength) whenever she senses his emotions spike. Macaque cried the first time the baby monkey babbled at his stomach, convinced that even if Wukong was her sole parent - Yuebei is certainly Macaque's daughter too.

The Eclipse Twins arrive at least an extra year after Yuebei is born. Diyu wasn't the most nutritious enviroment for developing Stone Eggs after all. And they arrive super tiny, but surrounded by adoring family members ready to pitch in.

Jin and Yin's silly name suggestion of "Zàoyīn and Bàoliè" aka "Rumble and Savage" accidentally ends up sticking to the loud little twin girls. XD

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

Dracula Season Watch Party: Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

The centuries old vampire Count Dracula comes to England to seduce his barrister Jonathan Harker's fiancée Mina Murray and inflict havoc in the foreign land. - Dir. Francis Ford Coppola

I haaaaaaaaaaaaated this the one and only other time I watched it because, for a movie calling itself Bram Stoker's Dracula, it sucks ass at adapting the novel. It hits all the beats but misses the themes and adds extra stuff, and Jonathan doesn't even go after the Count with a shovel, ffs. However, it is technically one of The Most Faithful adaptations we have to date, which is impressive considering how much story there is to adapt. And if I stop being such a purist turd.... *sigh* it's a good movie.

Like..... REALLY good. The costumes, the colors, the music, the camera work, everything has such a surreal vibe, and the scene transitions move with something like dream logic. Actually, I think "movement" sums up everything I loved. Shots moving around a scene, SO MUCH gauzy fabric moving in a breeze, Dracula and Mina moving through a crowd. It's ✨pretty✨

It's also horny AF. Jesus Christ.

That being said, I think the criticism I've seen saying this version turns Lucy into a slut is pretty unfair. She and Mina gossip about their relationships (and kiss in the rain, by god I ship it), and she's flirtatious with the suitor squad, big deal. She's never overtly sexual until she starts becoming a vampire, and that's nothing that doesn't already happen in the book. The two scenarios don't compare. One is established friendships that come equipped with camaraderie and intimacy, the other is a corruption. Like, that's literally what's happening, and that's where the horror comes from. As for this version's take on her sleepwalking, we are NOT calling that slut behavior. That's all I'm saying.

Speaking of the suitor squad (Lucy's potential fiances, for the uninitiated), I understand there is only so much you can squeeze into a two hour run time, but I wish they had more time to shine. I need more of Quincey being a manly man with the most golden heart of gold ever. I need more of Jack being the most lovesick and emo wreck of a human with a side of medical malpractice. Most importantly, I need Cary effing Elwes to have more to do as Art. Not that any one of Lucy's boyfriends loves her more than the others, but I feel like Art's devotion to her is given more weight because he was the one Lucy chose to marry, and ASDFGHJKL. You can't cast CARY ELWES, aka WESTLEY THE FARM BOY, of Thee Greatest Movie Ever Made The Princess Bride, and then NOT give him any room to work in that space. He could have eaten that shit up! You know it! I know it! The only people who apparently don't know it are the people who called the shots on everything from the script to the casting, because if we had spent more time with canon couple Art and Lucy and less with fanon couple Drac and Mina, WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL. *insert Adele gif because I couldn't actually find one*

While we're on the subject of Dracula and Mina as lovers doomed across centuries, YES, it's fucking romantic as shit and I've come across the concept in other stories and would have snorted that shit if possible, BUT. The addition here detracted from time we could have spent on Lucy, as mentioned above, and despite what I've said about that so far, I understand why you'd make that call. If there's going to be an epic Gothic romance, it might as well be the focal point of the story and therefore needs to happen between the leads. But.

BUT.

THAT'S ALREADY IN THE SOURCE MATERIAL. IT'S MINA AND JONATHAN!!!!! Jonathan Harker is peak Gothic wifeguy. Dude never stops thinking about how awesome his wife is and how much he loves her, and I can't even think about his refusal to let her be condemned to hell alone and his determination to damn himself with her if she became a vampire without getting in fits about it. He said "fuck God if he doesn't love Mina, he's not good enough for her and I love her enough for both of us," and you think ANY other love story can beat THAT??? They did my good friend Jonathan so so dirty.

On the subject of my good friend Jonathan, I know I'm not the only one who thinks Keanu Reeves would look so. Fucking. HOT. With gray hair. I don't know what they did to him in the back half of this movie, but rather than be disappointed in how fake it looks, I'm choosing to look forward to the day we finally get Silver Fox Keanu.

Other details I loved now that I'm done complaining include Mina's wardrobe echoing Elizabeta's gown in the prologue, red light reflecting off Renfield's glasses when he's talking about his master, red appearing more prominently in Mina's and Lucy's wardrobe as they fall under Dracula's influence, the zoom-in on the bite marks on Lucy's neck transitioning into the wolf's glowing eyes in the next scene, Dracula's shadow moving independently of his body, everything Anthony Hopkins is doing as Van Helsing, and the entire standoff between him and Mina and the brides.

I think I've said all I feel like saying, and it took a full 24 hours to stop talking, so in summary: I DO like this more than I used to, but I like it more when looking at it on its own merit and not as an adaptation. What I like, I really like. What I don't like, pretty much has to do with how it differs from the book. The most important part is that I had fun watching. Even if there aren't any flappy bats on a string.🥂

[analexthatexists]

Here, take this ball of living anxiety.

This is a mix between my own version of a Dream that was corrupted like Nightmare and a rewriting of Shattered Dreams. Had a lot of fun with this one, so here they are!

I don't have a name for them or their AU, so please suggest stuff. I was thinking maybe Insomniac!Dream/Insomnia, but I don't think that fits them.

Want more than just these drawings? I have a LOT written about this AU and Dream specifically below, so uh, enjoy that if you want to. There is a LOT of text though.

Here’s my attempt at summarizing this AU:

Dream and Nightmare are fighting as usual, but Dream tries to purify Nightmare’s soul by reaching out for it. This seems to to fail, which then leads to Nightmare managing to corrupt Dream’s soul instead, at first thinking this will finally kill him. It doesn’t, and Nightmare accidentally turns Dream into a goop monster like himself, albeit less sadistic and power hungry, more an anxious mess. Nightmare also now has an annoying ghost child screaming about not killing people in the back of his head thanks to Dream messing with his soul.

And here’s the long explanation!

This takes place recently after Dream’s escape from stone and during a fight against Nightmare, similar timing and series of events as the Shattered Dreams AU. In an attempt to get his brother back, Dream gets a hold of Nightmare’s soul, purifying it just the smallest amount before his arm melts. Nightmare obviously didn’t like this, retaliating by pushing Dream down and slamming his fist into his stomach. finally reaching and corrupting his soul. While Dream can’t touch the dark apples else they become gold ones, his soul can still technically be corrupted like them, as Nightmare’s can be purified if gained a hold of by Dream, albeit nearly impossible. Dream’s body leaks a dark liquid as Nightmare finished the corruption, but as Nightmare tries to release him to let him suffer the pain, he finds himself unable to let go of his soul, his hand turning from a dark teal to a burnt orange color that begins spreading up his arm. He has to slice off his own arm to ensure the magic doesn’t spread to the rest of his body as the goop from his detached limb, alongside the goop left on the battlefield from their clashing, begins to creep over to the soul. While his skeleton body is destroyed and melted away, his soul and the rest of the goop reforms into Dream’s new self, a process similar to Nightmare’s death and “return” during the incident. Nightmare, confused as all Hell and upset with himself that he didn’t expect this somehow, flees to rethink things while Dream questions his existence. Nightmare, after fleeing, realizes Dream’s attempt to restore the original Nightmare had worked…kind of. Nightmare has to deal with his original self constantly fighting for control over the body and bossing him around. While he still has primary control over their body, the original’s not willing to back down easily and is constantly annoying him, trying to mentally attack him until he stops doing whatever evil deeds he’s trying to do. Basically, this animatic was their dynamic.

As for The Guardian himself…

Appearance

After the reincarnation, most of his body has become a dark, burnt orange sludge. It appears lighter in color than Nightmare’s due to the corpse being mixed into the mass that makes his body up. The goop fades to a dark orange like his outline at his arms and legs, as well as parts of his torso. In contrast to Nightmare’s right eye, his left eye is now covered by goop. His right eye is neon orange and in the shape of a star, and grows sharp when angered or scared. He swapped his boots for something more fluffy and endurable, and sometimes wears a fluffy jacket that matches the colors of his boots, mostly when he's cold or stressed out. He’s also taken off his crown, at least for now, and has it stored away in a pocket inside his jacket. While he is able to, he usually doesn’t have tentacles out, or does he like using them, favoring actual weapons. When expressing intense emotions like rage or despair, Dream's body will, as seen in the photo above, glow a little orange and increase in saturation. Also, his tears are light orange and float upwards like his goop when he gets angry.

Weapons & Abilities

Aura Warp - He can teleport to AUs that radiate large amounts of negativity or ones Nightmare’s in. The opposite is also an option, but they physically hurt Dream depending on how positive they are. If the AU is overwhelmingly positive, it can start to burn Dream. Weapon Manifestation - He can create his own weapons using the slime that makes up his body. His weapon choices are primarily his bow and arrow, but he can also create sharp ink daggers that can pierce and stab like Nightmare’s tentacles. He refuses to manifest actual tentacles and works with knives/blades better anyways. Empathetic/Apathetic Influence - A fancy set of words that boil down to “He can boost people’s positive and negative feelings when he’s around them.” He usually can’t control this power. Heres how it works; Let’s say Swap Sans is feeling a little nervous about a human arriving to Snowdin and wants to impress them. Dream can turn this small concern into an explosion of panic and fear. Swap will become very self conscious and paranoid about how the human views and thinks of him. These effects will usually wear off once Dream leaves the area. The farther he is, the less effective. Telepathy - If he’s in the AU, Dream can telepathically talk to people by projecting his voice into the minds of others. This is usually how he talks to people, acting as their internal consciousness (or at least acting like that’s what he is) rather than getting up close to people. This is his primary way of helping people without startling them with his physical form. Dream Manifestation - If the person Dream’s physically close enough to is sleeping and dreaming or having a nightmare, Dream can enter their mind and manifest, either as himself or some other form that shares his voice and consciousness, in that person’s dream/nightmare. Upon entering, the dream will turn into a nightmare, or the nightmare will get worse. This is beyond his control, but he can still interact and try to comfort the dreamer until they wake up.

Personality

Dream shares the same mental state and ideals as his post-incident, Pre-Underverse self (When he still had his staff and his original outfit after eating the golden apple). However, after being corrupted there were some changes to his mindset. He’s become more easily scared and paranoid, like a reverse to his character growth in the present/Underverse. He’s also more prone to having breakdowns because of these factors. He’s also become insomniac and is unable to fall asleep easily if at all. He’s very clingy when he meets people that are nice to him, though he scares most people away from him. Sometimes he can become obsessive and forceful when it comes to actions or taking control, but the thing that separates him from Nightmare (And the original Shattered) is that he never gets sadistic or joyful of the pain he causes people, rather he gets very shameful and guilty once he finally settles back down and realizes what he’s done. He’s still determined to do his job spreading positivity and stopping negativity, though it’s proven to become difficult as he scares most people away and his aura gives off negativity. Dream's very scatterbrained and tends to slip up when it comes to doing his job correctly, getting too concerned about making things go bad and usually making things worse by overthinking so.

Likes

Fluffy things (Especially clothing) Hot chocolate Winter weather and forests Nature walks Helping others and successfully doing so The sound of birds chirping Butterflies & moths Small ponds or bodies of water Frogs

Dislikes

Loud noises High temperatures Open or lit fires Watching things like chocolate melt People getting scared of him / mistaking him for Nightmare Spiders, centipedes, most multi-legged or loud insects Pinecones (Irrational Fear)

Trivia

-Randomly considered him sounding like Sad ENA, and now I can't unhear it. Honestly, I think the voice fits him pretty well too. -Dream has not met Cross or Ink, but has bumped into Swap (and accidentally caused him to have a mental breakdown) while uncontrollably jumping across AUs while still getting used to his body. -If this Dream ever met Shattered Dream, he'd probably get too scared of them and run away before much else could occur. However, if he ever met SD's Nightmare, they'd become very clingy and defensive over them, scheming to basically "kidnap" them while trying to explain to him why that's better than putting up with his corrupt brother. -In a sense, Dream is a lot like Pearl, or at least her Season 1 self. Specifically in that over-obsessive “I’ll do anything to keep you safe” nature and getting too lost in helping others to a point they don’t realize the damage their causing to people, which only makes them want to help more until they get called out for good -Originally, Nightmare would have absorbed Dream's corrupted soul only for Dream to then take over his body and be reborn that way, but then I felt like that was a little...weird and nonsensical, so I toned it back and went with my original idea. -While making this AU, I basically told myself "Okay, I need to make this the exact opposite of what Shattered is. I'm going to turn him into a pathetic baby who's one bad social encounter away from exploding", and that's how we got here. -Yes, Nightmare talking to the ghost of his original self is based off the dynamic they had in Shattered Dreams as well. I realized after reading some canon facts about Dreamtale that technically you could have "Corrupt Dream and Two-Nightmares-In-One-Body" in the same story. You can have your gross slime cake and eat it too without worrying too much about it making lore-accurate sense!

[aimfor-theheart]

Act II

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

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

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only

❀ give me a world masterlist ❀

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

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

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

SCENE I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knows he won’t have much time now. 

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

Your name jumps out to him. He skims. 

Vision: Pyro 

Strength: Low

Intelligence: High

-Not a fighter

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

Kaeya searches harder, shuffling through the papers a little. 

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

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

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

Your diary. 

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

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

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

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

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

Footsteps echo. 

He’s out of time. 

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

He’ll go to Jean first. 

Use force. 

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

Torture if necessary. 

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

He runs towards the city gates fast and hard. 

Strength: Low 

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

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

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

Not a fighter. 

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

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

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

“Headquarters, I think!” 

Kaeya veers sharply for Headquarters. 

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

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

You’re nowhere to be found. 

His stomach drops. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaeya curses under his breath. 

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

“About what?” 

“I don’t know.” Kaeya bites out. 

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

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

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

He doesn’t see you. 

His blood runs cold. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shouts your name as he enters. 

No answer. 

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

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

Nothing. 

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

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

Use force. 

His mind feels hot, too sharp. 

Torture if necessary. 

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

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

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

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

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

Kaeya nods dazedly. 

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

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

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

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

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

He tries to force away what he’d seen. 

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

He’s imagining you gone. 

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

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

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

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

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

Or, you were. 

You blink awake, slow, confused. 

Kaeya rushes to your side. 

He kneels. 

The door is left ajar. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaeya looks at him. Venti looks back. 

The door is open. 

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

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

“Call off what?” You ask.

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

“My search party? Kaeya–”

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

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

And he flits out of Kaeya’s home. 

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

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

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

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

The door is shut tightly. 

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

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

“What?” You ask, as if you know. 

“I broke in. I owe you a new door.” 

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

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

“Kaeya–” 

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

“Kaeya,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pinches your side. 

“I had reason to believe–!” 

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

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

“Thank you,” you suddenly say. 

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t ask but he needed to. 

It’s not his duty, but he wanted to.

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

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

The door is locked tight. 

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

***

SCENE II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wrong note. It rings discordant in the air. 

Venti looks at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Venti–” 

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

He waits for you. 

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

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

It hangs like a storm. 

You can feel its pressure, now more than ever. 

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

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

“Not yet,” he replies. 

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

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

You open your mouth, but he continues;

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

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

***

SCENE III

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

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

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

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

“Then why do it?” 

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

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

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

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

“Why?” He demands suddenly. 

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

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

You gesture smoothly, “then enlighten me.”

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

His face is shadowed. It’s growing darker. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence stretches between the two of you. 

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

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

You feel your jaw lock. It ticks. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I have you and Jean and Diluc to—“

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

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

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

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

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

Tears prick your eyes, much to your dismay. 

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

You can’t lose Venti. 

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

If it could be done so effortlessly. 

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

Venti can lose you. 

But you can’t lose Venti. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sniff hard. 

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

Is it because—

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

—you’re worth fretting over?

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

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

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

You hold your breath. 

You think he holds his, too. 

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

Slowly, you slide your hand into his. 

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

Real. Weighted. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod a little, jerky, unsure. 

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

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

You feel your eyes fill with tears again. 

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

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

And you’re no good at that. 

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

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

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

For a moment, the space fills with silence. 

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

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

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

You wait for him. 

He opens his mouth. 

But then after a moment, he closes it. 

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

And mostly, it’s a mask of causality. 

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

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

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

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

“I–” he starts. He stops. 

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

In the same way that you hold him. 

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

“Yes?” You prompt gently. 

But then he clears his throat and glances away. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loosen your grip on his hand. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait, expectant. 

And again, he lets it fall. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For caring about me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He closes the door behind him.

You watch it for a moment, steady. 

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

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

But in the morning, you find it shut tight. 

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

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

“Hold on tight–don’t let go.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

PRELUDE TO SCENE IV

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

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

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

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

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

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

What should we tell her? 

The truth? 

What? No! 

Then you tell her–

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

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

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

She looks between the two of you. 

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

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

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

You fear there is some truth to it. 

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

You adore Kaeya. 

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

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

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

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

You suddenly worry that Jean has instead.) 

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

Amused. Near laughing.

That absolute bas— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Klee hums around her berry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?” Klee asks, “what is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You can count on me!” 

She bounds off into the field of swaying wildflowers. 

You turn back to Kaeya. 

His eye is soft, perhaps fond. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eye drops to your lips, thumb inching upwards. 

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

Your nose brushes against his. 

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

“Do you not want me to?” 

“Yes, I want—” he stops. 

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

He swallows, “we shouldn’t, though.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He almost—you almost—

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

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

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

You laugh as she squeals. 

She races after it. 

And then you do, too. 

In an instant, Kaeya has joined you, too. 

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

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

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

He peers up at you. 

Beautiful man that he is with sparkling eyes. 

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

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

“You’ll be mine yet, Captain.” 

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

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

You grin, beautiful and wicked and radiant. 

“It’s a promise.” 

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

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

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

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

***

SCENE IV

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

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

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

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

(A lovesick pup—) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hopes you’ve accounted for this, too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s looking at you. 

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

Oh, you’ve always been so open.

Finally, you inhale. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You’ll be mine yet, Captain.) 

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

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

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him so. 

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

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

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

Careful with yourself around him? Careful with him? 

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

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

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

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

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

He says your name, in warning. Perhaps fear. 

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

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

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

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

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

Thunder rumbles. 

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

He watches your face transform into understanding. Into—

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

His poor heart—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp.

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

His voice is a low rasp.

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

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

“Kiss me,” you plead.

Lightning cracks across the sky in a fissure of heat. 

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

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

What’s he supposed to do?

How’s he supposed to survive you? 

He scrambles for his wits. 

And firstly, he pulls his thumb from your lips.

“Kaeya—“ you coax again, “Kaeya.” 

“Stop it,” he hushes, “I can’t.” 

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

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

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

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

Make you beg.

He swallows around the words sharply. 

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

He forces distance between the two of you. 

Thunder grumbles unhappily across the sky.

“I’m not going to kiss you.” 

“But you want to?” 

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

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

“Since when have you—“

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

“That’s not—“

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

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

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

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

His voice lilts, turns melodic. 

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, he’s lost. 

(It’s a promise.) 

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

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

You throw your arms around his neck and deepen it. 

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

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

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

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

He wants so much more. 

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

***

SCENE V 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have you ever looked at him like that? 

He clears his throat. 

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

Immediately, Diluc’s face hardens. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could he ever compare to the two of you? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A cleared throat. 

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

He does not look pleased. 

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

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

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

“I can see that.” He says dryly. 

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

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

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

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

The door slams hard behind you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did get you in trouble.” 

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

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

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

It strikes a strange note in him. 

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

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

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

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

It’s a little barbed. 

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

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

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

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

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

You pull him into a hard kiss. 

This one is more desperate. Heavier. Hotter. 

He sees what game you’re playing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a lord?” He asks, astonished. 

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

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

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

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

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

Lest he do something horrible. 

Lest he want you too greatly. 

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

Like he could be desired to keep. 

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

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

***

Finish the rest on Ao3 ->

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

[tkblythofficial]

Tarot 2.0 - Today’s Reading Drama

Tarot 2.0: what the fuck happened? Did all hell broke loose?

Me: yes!

Tarot 2.0: sounds like a personal problem to me

Me: T liked R’s sexy pic then unliked it hours later.

Tarot 2.0: he saw her nipples and masturbated like any horny man then realized how it looks and unliked it. Still not my problem.

Me: he’s done this before! Liking then unliking pics of R allegedly and of other women too.

Tarot 2.0: An Aquarius man never misses their chance to be flirts.

Me: Speaking of women, he’s liking IG models pics *blah blah*

Tarot 2.0: all this happened today?

Me: YUP!

*Tarot 2.0 runs to grab her cards*

What does Francis think of Zeglyth?

Tarot 2.0: who the hell is Francis? This is turning into a mess already

Me: the director of THG! Did you forget already?

Tarot 2.0: oh, if they’re not important I forget quickly. can’t keep up with these people. Who’s asking about him? And why?

Pulled: Five of Wands (reversed)

Clarification: Ace of Swords

Tarot 2.0: oop! I knew he had the tea.

Me: you didn’t even remember him!

Tarot 2.0: I remember now so doesn’t matter! He witnessed an awkward moment between R and T. And he refuses to have drama on his set. Maybe R and T couldn’t get the kiss right or was having issues filming the scene and Francis was like “hell no! Clear the air because I have a movie to do!” That’s right, King!

I’m sensing they needed multiple kiss rehearsals but something felt off and Francis calmly addressed it. T froze up and R didn’t want to speak up so he kind of knew something went down. Oh this is good! Francis is so sweet, aw! He helped them through the awkward kiss and asked them what felt right, sort of giving them the freedom to direct how Lucy Gray and Coryo would kiss. He’s a very smart man. In his mind he was like “oh they kissed off camera so let me step back and let me do their thing.”

Francis is happy he got the chemistry right hahaha. Like he can’t believe he struck gold with those two. Doesn’t really care about their off screen issues though. He got the chemistry and love scenes he wanted so he was like “not my problem anymore, hope they work out their feelings.”

Also he’s not a fan of J.

My King!

Me: how does HS feel about zeglyth? You mentioned H knew the tea too

Tarot 2.0: shut up!

Me: You love me

Tarot 2.0: love is subjective

Pulled: Page of Swords

Tarot 2.0: NOW this is juicy omg. HS is my Queen. Sparks were flying on set. Whew. T and R overwhelmed her when she arrived. She was like what the fuck is going on here? She witnessed some flirty banter between them and thought they was fucking. Only for J to declare himself as R’s man. HS was shook. She was like us, she didn’t understand how R and T weren’t together. HS came very late too, right? Like the last few months of filming so everyone was already used to Zeglyth shenanigans. Wait a moment, hold the phone. All the cast and crew were in silent agreement not to mention Zeglyth’s chemistry and flirting. They had everyone confused. Why is everyone so confused while J is on set? He’s so forgettable that even some of the cast forgot he was dating R.

Who would be the first to make a move? R or T?

Pulled: Six of Cups

Tarot 2.0: T needs to make the first move but technically it would be R. She needs to give him a signal or sign to step up because he won’t just ask her out randomly. He’s very nervous around her and his feelings. It’s probably the first time in his life he’s scared of being rejected or losing a friendship over romantic feelings. He would rather wait until she’s ready then he can confidently make his move. So I guess both make the first move in their own way!

What would zeglyth be like as a couple?

Pulled: Ten of cups

Tarot 2.0: a couple of fools! Marriage and kids stay in their readings doesn’t it? I’m sick of them. They will have some communication issues and if they work past the initial conflicts in their relationship then it will lead to marriage and kids. If not, they will struggle and resent each other. Communication is a must here. He needs to provide stability and she needs to provide space. So if he’s not consistent, she will leave. Good luck, R! Aquarius are known for their indecisiveness  and independence. If she’s too clingy, he will leave. Good luck, T! Tauruses are super possessive and passionate. They need to compromise, especially him. R is not BB! BB is chill but R will get on his ass about certain stuff.

What would R be like as a gf to T?

Pulled: The Magician

Tarot 2.0: oh I rarely get this card. R is working her magic! She’s very intense, deep, and strongly committed. She’s amazing gf tbh! And to be blunt, the sex between them is a bomb. Like damn. T will be throwing her back OUT. Wow. He’s serious about her and is treating her right so in return, she’s putting in max effort!

What would T be like as a bf to R?

Pulled: Ace of Cups

Tarot 2.0: He brings a lot of positivity and adventure to R’s life. However, he overwhelms her and needs to slow down. She’s not used to a lot of excitement and energy. She needs to be open to new experiences though because T will not be sitting at home all day. He has things to do and a life unlike J. T’s very active which she can exhausting to her sometimes. But he’s a great bf! He’s very happy with R and thinks they can grow together.

What’s T's current mood? Why did he unlike her pic?

Pulled: The Fool (reversed)

Clarification: King of Cups (reversed)

Tarot 2.0: he’s a deviant! An Aquarius in his prime, dick hard and perked up! He’s attracted to her obviously and he’s thinking about her often.

One thing about tables, they sure turn! Whew! Every time I asked T about his thoughts on R’s online activity, I pulled this card and now I’m pulling the fool card on him! HAHA. Okay so he’s being very risky about his relationship right now. Extremely dangerous and this will cause problems with BB. It is causing problems actually. He’s being very immature right now and is not treating BB right, he’s emotionally distant. An Aquarius acting a fool before Valentine’s Day? What else is new!!!

How does R feel about T unliking her pic?

Pulled: Three of Wands (reversed)

Tarot 2.0: she’s disappointed and she doesn’t know why he did that. She feels like it’s 2 steps forward and 5 steps back with T. Like every time they make progress, he disappoints her somehow. Then she feels guilty that she’s disappointed about her friend not showing romantic interest or giving mixed signals. She doesn’t like how hot and cold he is. This causes her to put him in the friendship box because she’s having doubts about him as a romantic partner.

In general, what’s going on today? With R and T?

Pulled: The Hangman (reversed)

Tarot 2.0: R’s kitty has him losing his mind.

Me: excuse me?

Tarot 2.0: You're excused! T is being very impulsive right now. Just bad decisions after bad decisions. He’s afraid of starting over in his relationship and making the wrong decisions. So instead of thinking things through, he’s jumping to conclusions and acting rash. It’s very out of character. Did something happen over the weekend? I don’t know but his energy is different from Saturday. He’s giving me very toxic vibes rn.

Is T jealous of J and other men (about R)?

Pulled: Seven of cups

Tarot 2.0: this guy is so fucking funny. He thinks she has too many options and doesn’t like that but he has options himself so what’s his fucking problem? He’s used to being the only one who wants someone but he’s never really dealt with competition before. R is making him lose his mind. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s questioning his current relationship because of her. He’s fantasizing about a life with R but doesn’t want the smoke! She has MANY offers. More dick is being thrown at her than a hot dog eating contest. J is so clueless.

Lord have mercy. He doesn’t get butterflies with BB anymore and is trying to force them to return. You can’t fake feelings, Buffon! He loves her but he’s like, could I love R more? Yes, dummy! But you’re not ready for her clearly.

How does T feel when R says she loves him?

Pulled: Judgment

Clarification: Page of Swords

Tarot 2.0: He needs to be patient with her. To him, declaring love isn’t something people should say freely. Like sure you can love your friends but it’s painful for him to hear her say that in certain situations. Like even calling him a friend makes him sad sometimes. They’re obviously friends but there’s a lingering romance there. At the same time, he’s grateful for her attention and love but wishes she would stop. He can’t move on or think clearly with her doing that. She keeps reopening a wound he is trying to close.

They’re both so dramatic.

[teenandbeyond]

Levi Ackerman x M. Reader [Pt.3]

After reading a Levi fanfic, I got inspo to make a prequel to my Hero two-shot...now three-shot (technically). This is what lead up to parts 1 and two.

Want more from me? Masterlist 2

Here are Part One and Part Two.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

⚔Love, Sweat, and Tears⚔ (AOT or SNK)

Warning(s): Fluff, cursing (I think? I don't remember), long, low-key angsty toward the end

Levi just wants some tea, turns out he gets something a little sweet, too.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

"Where are we going?"

"They say this place has the best tea around here, you like tea, right?"

Levi glared at the outside of the building they stopped at.

RoyalTea.

He was still deciding on what he thought of the name.

The outside had a creamy purple color with white and gold painted accents in well-placed areas.

"Wanna go in?" Gabi, one of his caretakers asked.

"They better have good tea."

"It's been open for a year exactly today. But apparently it's very popular," she wheeled him inside.

The second they were inside, they were hit with the scents of different teas. Though every individual smell complemented each other.

But the interior was what really caught their attention.

"Whoa...I don't think I've ever seen a shop this clean looking..."

Levi liked this place already, this place was anti-dirt.

Customers were scattered across the shop, talking to each other over white tables, sitting in window seats, and girls were crowded at the counter table.

They didn't look like tea drinkers, so why were they looking so eager?

"It looks like this place is taken over by brats."

"Hello, sorry for the wait. I got the blend you wanted in your preferred amount."

Levi couldn't see who the voice belonged to over the throng of ladies as he got closer to the counter to hopefully be able to order.

"Yes, [Name], this is perfect! Thank you."

You laugh, "It's no problem. You, ladies, might want to start buying in bulk, though. Your usual order of two pouches can last about a week just between 4 people per bag. But you come here every other day ordering more."

"Yeah, we just love tea so much! And we just want to support our favorite shop owner," one leaned in.

"We should go, customer service is shitty here," Levi muttered.

"Sorry, Levi."

"Thank you, I appreciate that. But ladies, would you mind moving since you've paid already? There are customers behind you."

"Oh."

They turned to the two dryly, glaring at them before leaving the store altogether.

"Sorry about that, some of my customers can get that way! You look like you two must be new. Would you like to hear the options of tea I have? I also have pastries if you're interested."

Levi dragged his gaze back to you and he swore he stopped breathing.

Who was this beautiful man? [Name] he heard? He was suddenly much more interested.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Do you need some time to think about it?"

"No. What do you have?"

You began to rattle off all the types of tea you possessed, even some that Levi's never heard of, which you explained when noticing any confusion.

Usually, he didn't like when people talked so much...but he found he didn't mind when you did it.

Privileges of finding you pretty, he guessed.

He stealthily observed you, from your jaw to your white dress shirt to the beginning of your waist until the counter blocked the rest of the view.

After he ordered, since Gabi didn't want anything, you smiled.

"Want any sugar or honey with it?"

Levi cringed, "What kind of moron adds shit to their tea?"

You only chuckle at his language, "It actually isn't too bad if it's done right."

"Nothing belongs in tea," he glared.

You rang them up, "Three dollars–and Mr. Levi, I'm sure I could change your mind. I'm very convincing. I'm pretty good at what I do," you gestured to his cup, "Just see for yourself."

After he was settled, he took a sip and almost groaned at its taste.

He was coming back here.

And he did.

Again. And again.

Until it was a regular thing.

"Welcome back, Levi."

That smile was lethal, did you not know that?

"Hey."

At this point, it'd been months and Levi became a [Name] addict.

"Same thing?"

"Yeah."

After serving him, you prepped some tea leaves to grind.

He watched as you work, enveloping the quiet atmosphere.

"I'm so happy I have this place."

"Hm?"

"I uh...When I was a kid, things came easy. So they didn't feel rewarding...until I bought this place and grew a business from the ground up...It taught me how to work, it taught me discipline, it taught me that an easier life doesn't mean it's better," you laugh to yourself, "Sorry, I know you don't want to hear this."

"That why you opened this place? To work hard after having an easy life?" he subtly signaled he did.

You snickered, "I know that seems backward, but yeah. I know it's selfish since there are people out there who'd kill to have the easy life I had...but...I wasn't being fed, or stimulated, I had nothing to wake up for. Then I met a military police officer—a good one—and he--he worked so hard, he had a passion for what he did. I wanted that. I wanted to know what it was like to have a reason to live, to serve others. So I left an easy life behind for a life of work...but it was worth it. It's so freeing to live this way. I was never free when it was easy."

After that day, Levi realized he crushed on you, hard. He couldn't talk to you straight after that.

You leaned on an elbow behind the counter one afternoon, "Hey, Levi. You look really handsome today--not that you don't always look handsome, of course. But today seems a little different."

His cheeks flushed pink, "I-I didn't do much brat, just...changed my hair a little..."

And one evening, you got bold.

"Hey Levi, can I get your opinion as an avid tea drinker? I'd feel like you'd be a better judge than me who leans more toward alcohol."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I've been testing a new tea brew, but I need another opinion before I decide to add it to the menu or not. Can you try it for me?"

"Sure."

"It's still in my apartment upstairs, I'll take you."

"[Name], I'm in a wheelchair, I can't go up the stairs on my own."

"I know, here."

"Pu-put me down!" he flushed red.

"But you can't walk..."

"You could've just helped me up. The other leg is still fine."

"It's faster."

It became regular for you two to hang out in your apartment above the shop after closing, and one night, you kissed. Neither of you knew how it happened, but it couldn't be taken back.

And once you finally get Levi comfortable with the thought, you decide to try being a couple.

And Levi needed time to get used to the foreign type of relationship.

He had to get used to someone smiling at the sight of him.

He had to get used to someone's lips brushing against his skin.

He had to get used to someone treating him like a prince.

Someone celebrating his birthday that he didn't think was important.

He had to get used to someone remembering the little things.

Someone with an open ear to listen to the feelings he hides within his depths.

Someone saying, "I love you, Levi."

And him saying it back.

And after three years of dating, he had to get used to living with someone he was in a relationship with.

Had to get used to full, warm meals from morning to night.

Someone restoring him back to health when he's sick.

Someone soothing him from the nightmares, someone showing him how to sleep better. And waking to another warm body in a bed he shares (which he had to force, for a while you'd let him have the bed to himself in respect).

He had to get used to finding more reasons to smile, he had to get used to making someone laugh and smile with ease.

He had to get used to someone cleaning for him, someone who's very stubborn with what they allow him to clean, "I know you like to clean baby, but let me do it, let me take care of you."

He had to get used to someone cutting his hair for him.

Someone who didn't judge him for his background, no matter what.

"Levi, you're practicing your writing?" you leaned over his shoulder.

"Habit."

"There's nothing wrong with where you're from. Because without that place, you wouldn't have become the Levi I love now. So don't feel like you have to hide it or be ashamed," you kissed the curve of his neck.

He had to get used to someone being attentive to him and his habits and behaviors. Someone knowing him better than he knows himself.

He had to get used to being protected and fought for, although he still likes to feel like he can protect, too.

"Levi! Never do that again, do you know how worried I was?" you growled, running a hand through your hair, "I swear you want to make me go more insane for you than I already have...Do you not understand that I would shed blood for you if I had to? Please don't take me lightly."

He had to get used to someone reading to him, someone tucking him in.

Someone making him try new things, like sugar in his tea. He couldn't believe it.

Someone...calling him beautiful...

Someone bathing him and joining him sometimes just for the pure connection of intimacy.

Someone that didn't need to have sex with him to connect with him.

Someone that will ask him how he's feeling, and happily fill the silence when he doesn't want to divulge.

Someone who buys him whatever books he wants. Spoils him and works hard to earn back the money spent.

Someone showing their love in physically any way they could, showing what it was like to have a gentle touch.

Someone who won't let him go to bed angry.

"Please, don't leave me, [Name]!"

"What?"

"I-I'm sorry, I do need you! And—And not just because you take care of me," Levi looked up in desperation, tears welling up in his eyes, he regretted every nasty word he'd just said to you.

You look like a broken-hearted puppy, "It really hurt, Levi."

"I know...I know, I...I'm not good with this 'feelings' stuff. I don't know how to tell you things, I don't know how to show you I care about you. But I'm tired of people leaving me! And you're the only person who hasn't, I don't want to be the reason why you finally do. So please," he approaches you with shaking hands, his face burrowing into your torso as he grips the back of your shirt. "Don't leave me...Please. I love you, I love you. I'm sorry."

(But he didn't tell you the real reason he blew up at you that night...because of his own hidden thoughts...)

He had to get used to someone who cried from his tears, someone holding him tight, keeping silent about the tears he knew they felt.

He had to get used to having a reason to keep going.

He...had to get used to you...

The one he loved more than anyone.

The one he wanted for the rest of his life...

...and the last person he'd want to see at the end of it.

[localcryptidsteg]

Black Myth Wukong Chapter 3 Thoughts

So, I finished the chapter after putting it off for a bit, and I have to say, I enjoyed how absolutely MASSIVE this chapter is in comparison to the first two.

Ive started having to fight the camera a bit harder; it is, unfortunately, no longer an issue relegated to the Kiang-Jin Loong fight. However, its easy enough to mitigate since you can pause pretty much whenever to adjust your settings as needed. I find just turning off auto-switch eliminated like 90% of the issue.

Two of my favorite bosses so far are available in this chapter, those being Cyan Loong and Yin Tiger! Their fights are top notch, and are SO satisfying to drop into the rhythm of the battle. Lots of good parry/perfect dodge opportunities riddled throughout the fights, they just feel so badass the entire time.

Finally getting a sort of hub world is also lovely; being able to reach all your upgrade/gathering npcs in one teleport is great.

And speaking of upgrades, the blind monk mobs drop mind cores sometimes.

I HIGHLY reccomend abusing this for celestial medicines.

Finally, and more than anything, I want to talk about the end of chapter animation, because it is by far the prettiest so far. Its also viscerally disturbing, and the end dialogue ties the whole chapter together flawlessly.

Mild spoiler warning, but only for chapter three:

Over the course of chapter three, there are several side quests that all tie into the main questline. The first is the Green Hat Martialist, which cues you into the fact that youre not always talking to the same Buddha over the course of the chapter. The next is the fox spirit's quest, which is a direct continuation of the animation from chapter 2 and leads you to the thunderclap temple. The spirit tells you her killer is hiding there, having gone on to become a monk. However... hes the first of several you'll quickly realize have beome corrupted in the temple. Your horse friend from earlier chapters can be found nearby the monk, behaving uncharacteristically. All the enemies in Thunderclap have lines referencing one faith or a true faith, presumably not one you follow as theyre attacking you.

This all leads to (while technically not that impressive) one of the most interesting bosses so far.

Yellowbrow is an altar boy who declared himself a Buddha. He has beef with what seems to be his peer, and he makes mention of this a few times during his boss fight, seemingly increasingly butthurt and desperate to prove hes in the right over the other monk. He believes himself to be better than others, whereas his... friend? Rival? They seem to be on shockingly good terms all things considered- believes all to be equal.

This is where the animation ties in. Were shown a turtle yaogaui of sorts, washing ashore in a poor, sickly village. The turtle bleeds gold and pearls, and is shown to be capable of healing the sick and reversing aging. The village, naturally begins praising the turtle as a god. Until the night of a festival, where one villager gets greedy and attacks the turtle. This prompts the other villagers to do the same, tearing it apart for its carass and innards. The next scenes we see are the abandoned, dilapidated ruins of the village, and what remains of the dessicated carcass of the turtle. A monk approaches the carcass and begins speaking to it, only for the turtle to reply, revealing itself as none other than Yellowbrow. There's an exchange about skewed data and onfirmation bias, ("Why attempt to prove anything if not to win?") And the animation ends.

The monk is, of course, the rival Yellowbrow has been yapping on about the whole fight. The chapter ends with their opinions continuing to clash.

Its beautifully done, and its definitely going to stick with me for the imagery alone, if not the moral.

Lastly

Bajie! I love him, I was so happy to see him, hes ADORABLE as a little guy, I wish we got to keep him forever.

[panie-wanie-dean-bean]

Name: Angel (their real name doesn't really fit the human tongue but it roughly translates to honey or nectar)

Age: Well into their 3rd century. Still pretty young by angel standards but well into adulthood

Pronouns: they/them

Sexy bits: Whatever you'd like! They like to change what's down there pretty often but if you show favoritism to any of them they'll stick pretty closely to that

Species: Angel, your guardian angel now forever <3

Looks: Shorty (your chest height, literally, they don't look this human naturally so they made sure they could be smooshed in your chest if you ever gave them a hug), chubby, big ol white wings, golden halo, like a high class version of those slutty party city maid costumes? white ballroom gloves, their hands are coated in pure gold that travels up their arms in splotches (They call it a "horrible little stain"), their hair is a hime cut that they but into a high bun

================================================

Job: Your personal maid. Will come in every other day or so to clean up unless you give them a different schedule. Will not stand for anything under once a week though

Hobbies: Stealing your shit. Ok, that belongs more on the kink list. They do honestly like cleaning though. Keeping things all pristine and shiny makes them happy

They also really like eating. Look, for an angel, eating like humans is fully optional so I'm saying it's a hobby. They mostly like trying foods you seem to like or hate.

Trying to understand every inch of your brain might be their biggest hobby now that I think about it

Kinks: Corruption, worship, slave/master play, anything that can get them on your leash really, scent, tickling, wax play, bondage (specifically their wings, it makes them feel helpless)

No-nos: Any pain play that exceeds hickeys. More stabby pain is a total turn off for them and it will make them cry in the bad way. They can and do find pleasure in duller pain that comes with soreness though, which can absolutely lead to a round two while you're helping them stretch after being bound

================================================

Friends/family: Most angels are like, kinda related??? They've got a big family technically but raising a new angel is a very communal thing so they don't have "parents" of any kind

Other ocs: The only other people they interact with are the ones you interact with the most. By choice or not

Linda, the mayor, is very close to you what with being your landlord and sugar mama and all. They don't mind her so long as she's not being too pushy about her "payments"

The one person in town they actually seek out aside from you is Grace, the priest. She's a bit...weird about them? But the company is nice, and while you're still being stingy about your "privacy" they kinda have to accept her offer of the church's spare room

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Background: Angel always felt a bit off when they compared themself to their siblings. Sure they looked the same but no one ever seemed to feel the way they always did. Empty. They were just, so empty. Until, they met you that is. One of their kin was talking about how annoying it was to be your guardian, so they brushed off the work to Angel so they could do "more important work". What could ever be more important than you they could never understand

All was well until their kin came back, saying that they got told off for not respecting their assignment and needed it back. No, no no no, angels don't get to just be around humans whenever they want. If they got you back Angel would never get to see your smile, your tears, that adorable way you sneeze, ever again

Did you know an angel's blood is golden?

How you met: They kinda just...showed up??? After you moved to little town you had about a week to try and adjust to all the rest of the town's weirdness before they just show up and start handling your household chores like they've been there the whole time. They even know how to fold your laundry the way you like it

[blueiscoool]

Scientists Identify Secret Ingredient in Leonardo da Vinci Paintings

"Old Masters" such as Leonardo da Vinci, Sandro Botticelli and Rembrandt may have used proteins, especially egg yolk, in their oil paintings, according to a new study.

Trace quantities of protein residue have long been detected in classic oil paintings, though they were often ascribed to contamination. A new study published Tuesday in the journal Nature Communications found the inclusion was likely intentional — and sheds light on the technical knowledge of the Old Masters, the most skilled European painters of the 16th, 17th, or early 18th century, and the way they prepared their paints.

Scientists confirm long held theory about what inspired Monet

"There are very few written sources about this and no scientific work has been done before to investigate the subject in such depth," said study author Ophélie Ranquet of the Institute of Mechanical Process Engineering and Mechanics at the Karlsruhe Institute of Technology in Germany, in a phone interview. "Our results show that even with a very small amount of egg yolk, you can achieve an amazing change of properties in the oil paint, demonstrating how it might have been beneficial for the artists."

Simply adding some egg yolk to their works, it turns out, could have long-lasting effects that went beyond just aesthetics.

Eggs vs. oil

Compared with the medium formulated by ancient Egyptians called tempera — which combines egg yolk with powdered pigments and water — oil paint creates more intense colors, allows for very smooth color transitions and dries far less quickly, so it can be used for several days after its preparation. However, oil paint, which uses linseed or safflower oil instead of water, also has drawbacks, including being more susceptible to color darkening and damage caused by exposure to light.

Because making paint was an artisanal and experimental process, it is possible that the Old Masters might have added egg yolk, a familiar ingredient, to the newer type of paint, which first showed up in the seventh century in Central Asia before spreading to Northern Europe in the Middle Ages and Italy during the Renaissance. In the study, the researchers recreated the process of paint-making by using four ingredients — egg yolk, distilled water, linseed oil and pigment — to mix two historically popular and significant colors, lead white and ultramarine blue.

"The addition of egg yolk is beneficial because it can tune the properties of these paints in a drastic way," Ranquet said, "For example by showing aging differently: It takes a longer time for the paint to oxidize, because of the antioxidants contained in the yolk."

The chemical reactions between the oil, the pigment and the proteins in the yolk directly affect the paint's behavior and viscosity. "For example, the lead white pigment is quite sensitive to humidity, but if you coat it with a protein layer, it makes it a lot more resistant to it, making the paint quite easy to apply," Ranquet said.

"On the other hand, if you wanted something stiffer without having to add a lot of pigment, with a bit of egg yolk you can create a high impasto paint," she added, referring to a painting technique where the paint is laid out in a stroke thick enough that the brushstrokes are still visible. Using less pigment would have been desirable centuries ago, when certain pigments — such as lapis lazuli, which was used to make ultramarine blue — were more expensive than gold, according to Ranquet.

A direct evidence of the effect of egg yolk in oil paint, or lack thereof, can be seen in Leonardo da Vinci's "Madonna of the Carnation," one of the paintings observed during the study. Currently on display at the Alte Pinakothek in Munich, Germany, the work shows evident wrinkling on the face of Mary and the child.

"Oil paint starts to dry from the surface down, which is why it wrinkles," Ranquet said.

One reason for wrinkling may be an insufficient quantity of pigments in the paint, and the study has shown that this effect could be avoided with the addition of egg yolk: "That's quite amazing because you have the same quantity of pigment in your paint, but the presence of the egg yolk changes everything."

Because wrinkling occurs within days, it's likely that Leonardo and other Old Masters might have caught onto this particular effect, as well as additional beneficial properties of egg yolk in oil paint, including resistance to humidity. The "Madonna of Carnation" is one of Leonardo's earliest paintings, created at a time when he might have been still trying to master the then newly popular medium of oil paint.

New understanding of the classics

Another painting observed during the study was "The Lamentation Over the Dead Christ," by Botticelli, also on display at the Alte Pinakothek. The work is mostly made with tempera, but oil paint has been used for the background and some secondary elements.

"We knew that some parts of the paintings show brushstrokes that are typical for what we call an oil painting, and yet we detected the presence of proteins," Ranquet said. "Because it's a very small quantity and they are difficult to detect, this might be dismissed as contamination: In workshops, artists used many different things, and maybe the eggs were just from the tempera."

However, because adding egg yolk had such desirable effects on oil paint, the presence of proteins in the work might be an indication of deliberate use instead, the study suggested. Ranquet hopes that these preliminary findings might attract more curiosity toward this understudied topic.

Maria Perla Colombini, a professor of analytical chemistry at the University of Pisa in Italy, who was not involved in the study, agreed. "This exciting paper provides a new scenario for the understanding of old painting techniques," she said in an email.

"The research group, reporting results from molecular level up to a macroscopic scale, contributes to a new knowledge in the use of egg yolk and oil binders. They are not more looking at simply identifying the materials used by Old Masters but explain how they could produce wonderful and glittering effects by employing and mixing the few available natural materials. They try to discover the secrets of old recipes of which little or nothing is written," she added.

"This new knowledge contributes not only to a better conservation and preservation of artworks but also to a better comprehension of art history."

By Jacopo Prisco.

[futurefind]

//A concept I both rlly love + epitomize how very much I run off of, like, passion? Attention?? Interaction??? being able to turn an inch into a mile inspo wise: when my friends had an urban fantasy spn group for like a month and this is what I went with for Sa's SpnTM stuff :3<

Ice puppy sa beloved

The Kerberos, or Cerberus, date back to antiquity with the guardian of the Grecian Underworld. Kerberi have long served as minor psychopomps due to the intersection of their chthonic and protective natures, helping restless ghosts pass on and protecting the slumber of those that already have.

Regardless of how they choose to wield (or not wield) their powers, Kerberi have a heightened attunement to the spiritual. They’re most aware of ghosts (that is, once-living beings that have passed on to noncorporeal forms), in particularly, followed by spirits (living entities who have always been noncorporeal), with elementals and then magical energies being those they have the least-heightened awareness of. They also have increased physical senses, though the exacts vary depending on the type of Kerberos.

While ancient records can only agree upon the Kerberos being multi-headed and having been defeated by Heracles for his Trials, its descendants have catalyzed into two primary variants: lupine and serpentine. Shared physical traits include: a hardy constitution and endurance; slit pupils; often (but not always) yellow-to-gold irises when channeling their powers; sharpened teeth.

The only cited ‘magical’ traits of Kerberos in myth are eyes of fire and a nebulous ability to spew the poison aconitine (namely, the growing of wolfsbane). Kerberi, thus, have a nebulous affinity for fire, and either a resistance to poisons or an extreme weakness to wolfsbane.

Kerberi are a ‘schrodinger’ existence, being neither physical nor noncorporeal. Instead it is a state rooted in the ‘soul’, completely variable from person to person, with mixed blood in the traditional sense being impossible for them: They may reproduce freely, and all their descendants will technically be Kerberi, but even a child born to two powerful Kerberi is not guaranteed to display strong Kerberi traits. One may have limited physical traits, another unable to hide theirs at all, and so on.

Overall, Kerberi’s ‘active’ powers are rooted in elemental energies, ranging from the classical elements (Western or Eastern) to ones such as light or time or even vitae itself. This goes hand in hand with the standard of ‘fire’, but ‘monoelement’ Kerberi— whether they wield only fire or are unable to use it at all— have exponentially more powerful and volatile, dangerous powers. Often, their elemental powers effect one’s appearance and are always effected by their emotions.

Kerberi are social but territorial creatures. They thrive in consistent group environments, and suffer in solitude, with inclinations towards protectiveness— both towards their peers and loved ones, and the areas in which they reside. If two Kerberi intersect in ‘territory’ this can lead to conflict: not because they cannot coexist, but because each feels the need to be both ‘the’ guardian/protector, including of the other Kerberus, while refusing to be the ‘protectee’ in any manner themselves.

For Sasume: Large, sleek-fluffy canid ears and tail (replaceable with human equivalents/lack of) and, when channeling her abilities, typical gold eyes (and slit pupils) alongside further-sharpened and hardened teeth and nails. Wounds & skin irritations, small scars & scar edges have a propensity towards sharp angles and paleness, like fractured ice, while larger ones’ internal discolorations are patterned like ice fractals. Moreover, actively channeling her elemental powers leads to creeping patterns of frost along her skin. 

Powers wise: Sasume wields the relatively common abilities to actively enhance her physicality (stamina, strength, pain-resistance, hardiness), including a less-common amplification of healing rate. She also has the ability to generate and/or control water, preferring to wield it in the form of ice, to a powerful degree. As it runs counter to the Kerberi standard of fire, she has difficulty using any sort of flame manipulation, but retains an immunity to mundane flames. When angered or on edge or the like, her immediate vicinity will chill, and the worse it is the broader and colder the reach. Caution is advised, as she’s not immune to the cold. Though, her own powers are only high risk to herself if their induced ‘chill’ becomes internalized. 

In the day to day: Sasume is reserved, and literally buttoned up due to her aversion to anyone seeing the physical signs of her abilities. Outside of this, she keeps an ear out for ghostly unrest, and can get distracted by spiritual activity if there’s no appointments/set times she needs to meet.

[sunflowercider]

speaking of the white cavalry i know sir blanc said he'll give his loyalty to lloyd in a roundabout way but lloyd said to be careful with his words during the dead matsodons attack...

which brings me who do you think they sided with during the fourth ending spoiler where the queen waged war when she bace a bit crazy/paranoid

DELICIOUS ASK ANON, SO FUCKING DELICIOUS.

Damn. Damn. If I wanted to waste a few hours or days, I would sketch out entirely what I think happened politically and geographically in the fourth spoiler. While that future ends incredibly horribly, the lead up to it? Im so sorry, destiny writes some good stories (´-ω-`)

Anyways. Specifically about the white cavalry. After the dead mastadons attack kills 6 of the cavalry, Lloyd feels terrible. He feels it's only right to treat their remains with incredible care and respect, send a letter to the queen telling their tales as flowery as possible to help their loved ones get cared for in their absence, and build a memorial stone for them. Lloyd takes their lives (and the loss of them) gravely seriously. And Sir Blanc is moved nearly to tears.

This is a man who has been quite literally treated like a chess piece in others' wars. And here's some random noble who simply had an unpredictable skirmish with monsters, not even a proper battle, and treats their lives like precious gold. Sir Blanc, in his heart, wants to follow Lloyd (and I imagine the others in his group feel the same).

Lloyd may have roundaboutly turned him down but. The cavalry is still here you know.

When the queen loses her mind, there's first a civil war between those who support and those who oppose her. The Fronteras technically pick the side supporting her, but remain neutral otherwise. This is the most uncertain part for the cavalry. They could get called by the queen during this time, but my hunch is that the Fronteras' status quo is kept, as they are still technically an area of growth for the Cremona region, as well as a stronghold with the apartment fortresses. Leaving the cavalry with the County would make sense; theyre an important military group, but only a part of the queens forces. However, if the cavalry gets called at that moment, they will follow her. They are still loyal to the queen, they just also want to follow Lloyd... and hey, he's technically supporting her.

Now. If the cavalry stay at the Fronteras until the queen makes the error of attacking a peaceful foreign country and Lloyd opposes the decision? Oh ho hoooo thats a whole different ballgame.

The first civil war actually ended before that. Once the queen wins that, she attacks the Benetto Kingdom as a way to consolidate her nobles. (You know, similar to what the Sultan wanted to do?) Lloyd opposes when he hears - he built the route to Benetto for trade, not military. Then the next civil war begins.

HOW does the White Cavalry respond here?? What a pickle, what a pickle. There's no more pretending the queen and Lloyd stand aligned. There's a choice to be made. They're originally loyal to the queen but... she recently killed many nobles (and their armies) for reasons that were never justified properly, and then attacked and took control of a peaceful kingdom. You know, the cavalry helped build the mountain pass too. They have some pride.

In the face of all this, despite the fierce loyalty of a knight to their ruler... I think the White Cavalry would have to cave and join the Fronteras. I think they'd have a fierce internal fight about it, and they wouldn't be very happy about the choice either way. But Lloyd has shown his good nature many times over, while the queen has failed spectacularly. They know who is right.

But even if the White Cavalry did join the queen again due to knightly loyalty reasons, i think they would take the scenic route home. After all. Lloyd won the fight within 10 days. They can afford an unusually long walk back to the capital.