#i really enjoyed writing this and it may be vain to say i love this but fuck it idc

[sleepymccoy]

I have some general anxiety about going to supermarkets aimed at specific cultures because the intended clientele is not lil white me and the staff often don't speak english and I feel inappropriate. But not once has this been true, and I've always enjoyed my visit. Anyway, that's a preface so you can appreciate how brave I am

My colleague recently made me lahpet which is a Burmese salad including pickled tea leaves, dried beans mix, and tomatoes. I loved it and wanted more. I live in a densely Chinese area and thought one of the many supermarkets might have something Burmese, so I brought the empty jar to every store.

Many don't speak english, but that's fine. I had a jar! All interactions basically went like this;

None of them knew Burmese so couldn't even tell me if they had something similar

I gave up and bought it online. Also had a hard time with that cos they don't deliver to apartments (got the vibe that it's just the shop owners son doing deliveries and he couldn't be fucked going upstairs. Valid). But I persevered and got three jars! And the dried beans mix I needed. Way too many dried beans, I totally misjudged the size of the bag being sold

I used one to show my friends this salad. They didn't go as insane over it as I did. I gave another jar to my dad who did go appropriately insane. He said he liked it, then five min later interrupted to say he really liked it, then after dinner spent time with me going through the ingredients and trying to figure out if he can pickle tea leaves himself. Booyah.

Regardless, this left me with one jar which I swiftly finished. So I'm on the hunt again and the online store stresses me out now cos they don't like apartments

I found a Burmese supermarket a few suburbs away and a twenty min walk from the station. Fucking worth it, it's added two hours to my commute home but I want these jars so much. I enjoyed the stroll. It rained a bit, so I saw a couple rainbows

In the store I was, again, immediately stressed. I went down an aisle and back again and found nothing. I found other pickled things! But not my tea leaves! I did not want this trip to be in vain, it was long and I had a shit day at work. I was really only doing it today cos the days a write off as a bad day so I may as well run an annoying errand

Anyway I pulled up the website and showed the lady at the counter a photo of the jar and she pointed me to them immediately. I returned like fifteen seconds later with four jars and she was already on a phone call with someone. I love workers rights. You're awesome, lady.

So I say four and hold four fingers up and pass her one jar. She scans and sets the price right. She then interrupts whoever's talking on the phone to ask me, "How you know this?"

So I quickly explained that my colleague made me the salad and I loved it. She pointed back at the aisle and said, "the beans, you need beans." So I was like "I have so many beans, I bought too many, I just need the pickled leaves." And she was already waving her hand at me in disinterest so I stopped talking and paid lol.

It was a long haul home. I passed and remember to take a photo of my favourite art installation, the tower of coffee cups in a pole.

There's no starbucks in my suburb so one of these at least has taken a long trip to get here. So did I today, my feet are sore

Anyway, I have four jars of miraculous pickled tea leaves. If you can figure out how to buy these ingredients I recommend it to serve alongside very fatty meals like lasagne or sausage cos it cuts through nicely. I also take a serving to work every day because the tea leaves are caffeinated so I'm skipping the second coffee

I love lahpet

[mothwingwritings]

Dreaming Of World's End

Reader X Zenos Yae Galvus

Waaah it has been so long!!! I apologize for the absence! I have been working on and doing all kinds of stuff (fics included) as of late so I did one of my classic dip outs there for a moment, but I’m here! Just plunking away as usual. :)

With Dawntrail coming up I have been focusing a big chunk of my free time on trying to beat Endwalker (I am slow in all things, video games included lul) because I wanna be there with the herd with Dawntrail comes out!!! I have no idea if I am gonna make it, but I am doing the best I can to catch up!!!

That being said: Zenos brainrot propelled this fic from my brain, to my computer, to you. Was I and am I also writing a bunch of other things? Yes. Is this the only thing I could momentarily focus on writing-wise because I have been compromised by my love for this fucked up man? Also yes. I’m sorry. It’s bad. I was already obsessed with him in Stormblood and now that I am deep within the clutches of the Endwalker msq… It’s over for me guys. It was a good run, but rip to me. My WOL may be playing hard to get, but I’m sure not. Zenos if you are reading this, you can just have me.

So without further ado, here is a Zenos fic I have been working on! My love for him aside, I think Zenos is a super fun character to write for, so I really hope I did him some justice! This is a reader insert fic, but you are the Warrior of Light in it so feel free to insert your OC’s and WOL if you like! I tried to keep the reader neutral, but I will say it’s def aimed more at a female reader/character and if you are a shorter race like a Lala it will probs be a little wonky, so my apologies. Also, I am about half way? A little over half way? through the Endwalker main story, so potential spoilers up to that point. This fic takes place sometime between post Shadowbringers and the first part of Endwalker.

Nothing overly explicit, but due to the nature of this fic it is 18+ please!

Thank you so much for reading!!! <3 I truly hope you enjoyed!

WARNINGS: Unhealthy relationship (if you can even call it a relationship), intense infatuation, implied noncon, noncon mentions,  a lot of fighting and mentions of fighting, mentions of death and the end of the world, unwanted touching, Endwalker spoilers.

It was always the same dream.

Amaurot. The end times. Death, destruction, chaos. Streets tainted by endless misery, stifling woe permeating the air as people ran about frantically, picked off left and right by horrendous, nightmarish monsters. Screams pierced the air as the remaining survivors struggled in vain, desperate to escape a fate that they could not avoid.

Just as any other night, he would watch it all unfold with cold indifference. Walking through the crumbling, fire charred lanes of this shell of a once bustling city, he would take it all in at a leisurely pace, maintaining a stride no more rushed than if he were taking a pleasant stroll. His features would be void of distress or malaise, his face a blank slate as he paraded down roads lined with bodies and devastation.

Zenos could say it was because he had grown accustomed to it, have the same dream each night and the grisly scenario that laid in wait past your closed eyes was bound to no longer shock you. But that would be a lie, as this ghastly nightmare had never truthfully bothered him to begin with. He simply didn’t care, not about the dying planet, nor its inhabitants that suffered the same fate. This scene from another time, this moment from a faraway place that no longer existed, he couldn’t bring himself to feel any form of remorse for the phantoms left to wallow helplessly in this endless, hellish loop, even if his own star was on track to share the same fate.

An echo of the past was just that, to dwell on it was a fool’s errand.

But tonight, it was not the end of times that greeted him when he closed his eyes. In its place stood an immaculate hall appearing to belong to some manner of grandiose castle. Pristine and orderly, he sat upon a large throne questionably positioned in the middle of the walkway, facing so that a vast expanse of the hall was clearly within his view.

Had he been here before? It was hard to say, having been trapped by palace walls most of his life they all blurred together after a certain point. Perhaps this wasn’t even a castle, but some manner of fortress. The varying weapons displayed neatly along the surrounding walls certainly made it feel as if this was more than just a mere abode for royalty to live out their boringly opulent lives, perhaps it doubled as an armory of sorts? Every sword, spear, and battle axe looked immaculately cared for; their blades so sharp simply looking at them made you feel as if you had been sliced.

His time to dwell upon the mystery of his surroundings was quick to dissipate however, as he felt a familiar presence approach him from behind. He remained still when a delicate hand was placed upon him, crawling from his arm to slide unhurriedly across his broad shoulders. The caress occupied the entirety of his thoughts, manicured nails scratching lightly against his flesh as they raked across his back, pressing just hard enough that they left a pleasant burn in their wake.

“There you are,” a deceptively alluring voice purred in his ear. Phantom arms draped themselves loosely over his shoulders, their fingers moving to trace a swirling pattern upon his chest. Goosebumps littered his arms at the brief contact. “Were you hiding from me?”

A small smile spread across his lips. What elation merely hearing your voice caused.

Were he not already aware of it, he would recognize he was in a dream from this interaction alone. You, only you, would be welcomed to touch him this way. But even were he to offer invitation, you would never do so of your own free will. There was a mixture of pride and revulsion that kept your interactions with him void of skinship, save for the fleeting contact that occurred when you were locked in combat.

His motivations, the way he chose to experience the world, your differing values and opinions. Like night and day, they barred you from reciprocating his feelings towards you. Because of this, he was left to revel in your touch exclusively in the realm of dreams.

“On the contrary,” he hummed, “you have been the one to keep me waiting.”

A low chuckle reverberated from your chest, sending a shiver down his spine. You rose to your full height, pulling away slowly until you disconnected from him completely. Even if the contact was nothing more than an attempt at provocation, he missed your touch the moment you detached yourself.

“Well then I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, my lord,” you enunciated his title tauntingly, the playful lilt in your voice exciting him further. He heard you take several languid steps away from him before you spoke once more. “That is, if you even have a heart that can offer forgiveness.”

Zenos rose to his feet, turning to finally face you. Your back greeted him as you stared up at the myriad of weaponry covering the back wall, the hand that was moments ago atop his chest now gracefully running across the hilt of a long sword. Your fingers lingered on the handle, moving as if you were going to grip it, but never completing the task.

Zenos smiled. You were toying with him.

“You jest,” he spoke, taking a measured step your way, “if anyone has intimate knowledge of the existence of my heart and whom it beats for, it is you.”

Your posture stiffened in acknowledgment of the insinuation, yet you refused to turn his way.

“Is that so,” your voice seemed distant, as if you were unwilling to accept the burden of the intense desire he held for you, “Forgive me, I must have misread the situation. Due to the nature of how our meetings always end, I figured you only ever wanted one thing from me, and that is my blood.”

A low chuckle rumbled from within him, his eyes crinkling in amusement. For all that you were, all the skills and knowledge that you held, you could certainly be dense.

“I desire all you have to offer,” he answered plainly, “Your fury and malice, your rage and rancor, your disdain and desire,” he continued to approach you, each step slow and deliberate as he closed in on your staunch form. “Your love and affection are no different. I want to consume your every thought, just as you consume mine. I want you to taste me in the air you breathe and feel me crawling under your skin, even when I am far removed from your presence.”

He stopped several steps away from you, keeping his distance but lingering close enough that it bordered on intrusive. He raised his hand calmly, reaching out to grab a stray lock of your hair between his fingers. He gingerly caressed the silky strands, smirking when he noted that even such slight contact caused a shudder to lurch your otherwise statuesque form.

“You can play the fool all you want, but you cannot hide the fact that the same beast that dwells in me is also within you. They call out, craving each other to the point of madness.  We need each other. This dance we share must continue in perpetuity, lest our fierce yearning for each other’s presence turn us to savages incapable of rational thought, driven to the point of committing mass, undiscriminating destruction as a means to appease ourselves.”

He smirked, placing a gentle kiss atop the tendrils in his hand, before letting it slip from his grasp completely. “And you would do anything to divert that misfortune, would you not hero?”

Your shoulders began to quiver, shaken by the threat of violence he could and would commit simply to be by your side.  An impatient sigh escaped his lips, “So come, what better way is there to quench each other’s thirst and prevent calamity than through a mutually beneficial rendezvous? Surely even someone as set in their way as you are is in agreeance.”

“I was under the assumption that you planned on battling me until the world was torn asunder, regardless of if I entertain your perversions or not,” Your voice dripped with disdain as you spat your response at him, “If that is the case, pray tell why I should not cut you down where you stand? Why must the dance continue if the outcome is all the same?”

Your words made the smile on his face grow, stretching his lips to an unnatural degree. Taking another step forward, he leaned in until his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. Placing his hands firmly atop your shoulders, he gave a tight squeeze as he responded.

“Because we share one destiny,” he pressed his cheek flush against your head, inhaling deeply before releasing it in a slow, shaky sigh, “even now as you try so hard to deny me, our fate is intertwined, my warrior. You cannot escape me, and I have no desire to escape you. The dismantling of this world as a result of our conquest is all but inevitable and I welcome it with open arms.”

“I won’t let the world crumble to ash.” Your bold declaration was spoken as if it were fact, the conviction in your voice sending a surge of wanton excitement coursing through his veins. “Say and do as you like, the future you seek will never come to pass.”

Oh, how he adored you.

“Hmm,” he hummed, “You can try and stop me, but you cannot escape what has been predestined.”

During the course of the conversation, your hand had had traveled to the base of an axe, your fingers wrapping around it to grasp the handle in a constricting hold. All of the anger that had been bubbling up reflected in the whites of your knuckles, the tremor of your hand becoming more apparent as your composure slipped further and further. The cool demeanor you initially donned had completely shifted, overridden by the immense agitation his presence was inviting.

The axe was ripped swiftly from the wall, lacking fluidity. There was no care for keeping the wall in tact or making sure all the other weapons that surrounded it stayed in their spot. You ripped it down with one great tug, bits of stone and surrounding armaments clattering noisily into a massive steel heap on the ground as you finally spun around to face him. Zenos had seconds to react as you swung down in a wide arc, the finely sharpened blade slicing easily through the decorative tiling that coated the floor, decimating the ground where he once stood.

“There we are,” Zenos growled in anticipation, sizing you up with a bloodthirsty grin, “you are a vision to behold when you let your ferocity consume you.”

You deigned to answer him, your icy countenance his only response as you straightened your posture, considering your next move.  Your distaste for him was clear as you hefted your axe from the ground, dust settling around you as it was freed with a mighty yank. Weapon in hand, you came for him in a relentless torrent, striking at him in a flurry of breakneck swings. In the ensuing madness, he grabbed the nearest weapon he could reach-a sword that was more ornate that functional, but it would serve its purpose for the time being.

The enmity increased as he reciprocated your attacks. Parrying each blow with a steady hand, he responded to your blows with calculated strikes of his own, expertly countering your aggression. The air around the two of you had become electric, charged with hostility and fervor as you hacked away at each other time and time again.

Though frantic, the assault was far from inelegant. Each swing of your axe and swipe of his blade was an orchestrated maneuver befitting the couple who performed them. It was as beautiful as it was fierce, a true force of nature. To an untrained eye the activity would appear as nothing more than a blur of chaos, annihilating all that was in its wake. But to Zenos, a man who had dedicated himself to your study, it was a sight that made his heart ache.

He was witnessing a glorious preamble, a promise forged in battle between himself and his righteous and powerful hero, the only person with whom he ever felt a true connection. This battle, amongst all of its other perks, gave him purpose.

Fighting you, he felt alive. To be the sole receiver of all your ire, your discontent, your undivided attention… it was like a dream. He realized this encounter was most likely just that, a conjuring of your presence from his sleep addled mind, a side effect of his constant ruminations of you. You already occupied each of his waking thoughts, it only made sense that having you visit in his dreams would soon follow.

Be that as it may, the knowledge that this moment lived solely in his mind did little to dissuade his desire to get lost in it, to get lost in you.  If he couldn’t have you in the waking world, his dreams would have to suffice, at least for the time being. Besides, there were things he could accomplish in his dreams that would never be plausible elsewhere, moments of intimacy he could forge that would never present a chance of happening in reality.

A particularly rough blow sent Zenos reeling. The sword knocked from his hand scattered just out of reach, his body lurching to an abrupt stop as he collided with rubble that had piled up behind him. A quick glance your way revealed a small smirk ghosting your lips, a hint of satisfaction shining through your hostility. He could see the assurance reflected in your eyes, a swell of pride over the victory you would soon be relishing.

Zenos mirrored your glee, pleased you were having as much fun as he was.

As you hoisted your axe high, thoroughly preoccupied with your pending achievement, Zenos took the moment to strike. Launching himself from the ground, he rammed his body against yours, hitting you hard and fast. The speed at which he closed the gap astounded you as much as the collision had, causing the axe to topple from your hands, skittering out of your reach. A pained grunt escaped your lips as you collided with the ground, Zenos following suit atop you. His hand cradled the back of your head as you fell, catching hold before it could crack against the stony floor. It would do no good to have you suffer injury and pass out now, not as things were about to get truly interesting.

Positioning himself atop your fallen form, his body caged you in as you lay beneath him, panting and exhausted. Splayed amongst the rubble, your confusion morphed into a look of annoyance as you realized your situation had drastically changed. Your success had been stolen from you and now the thief had you cornered, trapped right where he wanted.

“I wish you could see yourself as I see you in this moment,” Zenos spoke between his own labored breaths, pressing into you ever further as his face hovered inches from your own, “Disheveled and feral, transformed by your bloodlust, you have never been more breathtaking.”

“I’m not like you,” you retorted sharply, “I don’t revel in such acts of savagery.”

Zenos chuckled, “And yet you seemed quite delighted moments ago when you were convinced victory was within your grasp.” You frowned as his hand found purchase on your chin, gripping it in a tight pinch to keep your focus fixed his way, “But here you are now, bested and at my mercy.”

You grimaced, “I have yet to lose to you. I refuse to concede defeat.”

In response to your bold declaration, he gave a throaty, booming laugh. How was it that you always knew just what to say to drive him absolutely mad with desire?

Unable to contain himself any longer, Zenos smashed his lips to yours, capturing you in a heated and hungry kiss. Your brain took a moment to comprehend the abrupt action, but as it did you began to struggle against it, thrashing and clawing at him in an effort to create distance.  Zenos remained firm, making it clear that you had expended far more energy than he had, leaving your assault lacking the power needed to stop him. Whines of displeasure snaked from your mouth as his grip tightened on your chin, squeezing so roughly you couldn’t help but gasp in pain. Eagerly seizing the opportunity, he muscled his tongue inside of you, lapping at the inside of your mouth aggressively. He groaned as he savored the taste of you.

When a need for air arose, he pulled back slightly, staring down at you with lidded eyes. Your saliva coated his lips, giving a glossy sheen as they curled into an offputtingly tranquil smile. His hand moved from your chin to drag languidly across your cheek, the brief touch of his rough finger tips sending a shiver down your spine. Your gaze wavered the longer you stayed trapped in this awkward position, your eyes brimming with uncertainty. You seemed unsure of where to look, what to do, how to escape. In his wishful thinking, Zenos wondered if perhaps you were even unsure if you truly wanted to escape.

Amongst your numerous charms, Zenos found your enigmatic personality to be one of your most appealing. Being such a virtuous being, your motivations, ambition, and drive were all easy enough to sort out. You are Hydaelyn’s chosen, the Warrior of Light, the people’s champion, and you live up to those titles and more. You are a hero through and through, a source of salvation for those you protect and a complete nightmare for those that offer opposition. There is no doubt that you are a force to be reckoned with, no matter what the encounter or situation may be.

And what good hero is without a nemesis? It’s a role the disgraced Prince and betrayer of his kin plays well. In his illustrious life he had gone through the motions, donned many hats, played countless roles, many of which were not of his choosing. But of all his grand titles, your adversary is most certainly his favorite, the only one that gives him any sense of pride. Your existence gave him purpose, and for you alone he kept up the hunt.

But he knew it was different for you. Though cut of the same cloth and driven by destiny to engage him, your feelings did not completely align with his own. You were driven by more than barbarity, more than a duty to save your people and your planet. There was something inside of you, something that made you YOU, that he could never truly know, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

You were his greatest conundrum, a true mystery, and when you look at him as you were now with those eyes that swirled with anger, uncertainty, grief, and something yet unspoken… What was he to do but become a slave to this maddening, consuming attraction?

He gloated about being the victor, but it was clear you would always have the upper hand.

“Get off of me.”

The demand brought him back to the present, sheer determination replacing the conflicting emotions that fought for dominance within you. He could tell by the bite in your voice that your vigor was returning, and given a bit more time and provocation, the battle would gloriously resume.

“Eagar to carry on with our dance, are you?” He responded, an almost teasing lilt to his voice, “Or is it that you just can’t stand the thought of defeat at my hands?

“I already told you, you didn’t defeat me,” you glowered, your rage becoming palpable the longer his unwanted presence loomed, “I came here to end this farce and I plan to do just that.”

A beat of silence passed, followed by a sigh. Parting your lips to speak, your voice came out quieter, more desperate than it had previously.

“I wanted to keep this is civil as possible and respect your wishes as best I could, no matter how twisted they may be. But even for your own benefit, you refuse to entertain the notion of making this situation even the slightest bit amicable. You speak of such lofty things as fate and destiny, but all I am witnessing is you causing unnecessary suffering, hiding behind my name to do so.”

For a split second, another flash of uncertainty danced across your features. You bit your bottom lip in vexation, a glimmer lighting your eyes as they swept across his handsome face, “There is more to this world, more to this life, than waiting for its untimely end. To live out your days perpetuating death and blind havoc is no way to exist, it’s a tragedy. Why can’t you see that? Zenos, I-“

As if taken by surprise, you cut your own words short, silencing the previous thought that had been brewing. Zenos felt as if you looked pained, staring at him with pleading eyes, face scrunched up in frustration. Even with all the hate you carried for him, you were still trying to understand him, still clinging to the hope that maybe you could save him too.

Here, on the cusp of annihilation, you were doing all you could to fulfill the role of hero and protect the people that you loved. In order to fulfill that duty, it meant he must be defeated. There could be no other ending, the inexorable conclusion to all of this was always cold and endless death. Whether it would be all of humanities or just his own was still to be determined, but it did little to change the fact that there was no future to plan for, only a violently rapturous and melancholic end.

To be cherished by you, to feel your love as if he were one of your dearest companions… It was a thought not meant to be dwelled on, but one he found hard to completely shake from his head. How would it feel to be earnestly and unequivocally loved by you? Perhaps in another world, another time, your souls would be reborn and given another chance. A fresh beginning to grow together, an opportunity to nurture something more than the misfortune this world had thrust upon you. Maybe in some alternate telling of this tale the two of you were together and happy, with nothing but a bright future awaiting you on the horizon.

But that was simply a foolish daydream. All that he had, all he could hope for, was the here and now.

You sighed again, steeling your resolve with a shake of your head, “Never mind. You have already proven to me mere words cannot move you, so I will save my breath.”

Raising your torso as much as his hold on you would allow, your eyes bore into his, fully accepting the challenge that lay ahead. Though still restrained, there was an aura of dominance that surrounded you. It was a warning to Zenos that your binds were temporary, whether he released you willingly or otherwise was his decision, but regardless the outcome would be the same.

“If it’s the end you want, it’s the end I will bring you,” your soft words clashed with the look of malice reflected in your eyes, your breath fanning his face as your noses nearly touched. For an instant your eyes darted to his lips, and Zenos wondered if it would be you to instigate the kiss this time.

“I will fulfill my role. I will be your end and your salvation.”

Your words pierced him, the proclamation sending sparks of excitement to course through him, igniting his soul. His whole body burned for you, intense and consuming, his need for you was beginning to show itself in ways beyond his control. Pressing his hips flush between your spread legs, he made his intentions known to you, a shiver wracking his body when you released a small gasp of surprise.

Clutching the remaining shreds of his sanity, he grunted as you writhed against his growing arousal, pulling your body up towards him until he had engulfed you in a tight embrace.

“Enough time has been wasted,” he snarled into your neck, his chest rumbling as his grip on you tightened, “let us deliver a ruin unto ourselves so extraordinary, so beautiful, that naught will remain but the scattered fragments of this forsaken world.”

Loosening his grip, he pressed his lips to your forehead in a chaste, yet gentle, kiss. Your brow furrowed at his touch, shoulders tensing as you drew yourself back from him, recoiling at the small display of adoration. He found the reaction endearing, even with his intentions laid bare and and his hardened cock pressed firmly against your core, it was the smallest token of his affection that caused you to squirm.

Repugnance, hatred, scorn- whatever you felt for him in this moment, none of it mattered, none of it deterred him. He loved you, and he would make that love known in the only way he knew how, while he still had time to do so.

“This shall be my final gift to you,” he purred into your ear, his grip latching securely to your tunic. With nimble hands he started to pull, exposing yourself to him bit by bit as the fabric turned to tatters in his hands.  “Let us relish it my friend, my warrior, my beloved. Destroy me, and I shall be your devastation in kind. ”

[rhythmantics]

what the FUCK do you mean you wrote two of the best prototype fics AND drew some of the best art. illegal

seriously though i am in love with your characterisation, especially of all three mercer siblings. frankly your version of dr mercer is the best ive seen in the entire fandom lmao

Thank you! I'm really glad you're enjoying that terrible bastard of a man. Dr. Mercer enjoyers unite. We love this evil skinny twink

Thoughts about Mercer sibling characterization + themes of the game (under a cut because it's VERY LONG):

The thing I try to stress when writing Doc Mercer (hereto referred to as "Xander") is that yes, he is a narcissistic, vain, arrogant bastard of a man, generally irredeemable, with extremely loose and/or nonexistent morals and a terrible personality.

However, [PROTOTYPE] is a game where most of the characters are some level of fucking awful and monstrous, but their motivations are still explored, and sometimes even still justified. I mean, Alex eats people. Randall was on his way to nuke Manhattan. Blackwatch regularly laughs at being able to murder innocent civilians. A powerful moment in some of the WOI's is Blackwatch gleefully discussing killing people, while the visuals show a camp on a rooftop where the survivors have written a big "NOT INFECTED" in a bid to not be murdered by Blackwatch.

Still, there's nuance there. Alex may grow a conscience and save New York, but he's still, you know, a walking viral apocalypse that both eats people and enjoys it/thinks it feels "right." Blackwatch murders all the people they want, but at the end of the day, they ARE the line that stands between humanity and viral apocalypse. And Randall might even be justified in nuking Manhattan if it means taking Alex out, because - you know - walking viral apocalypse (and for all Randall knows, ZEUS only killed Elizabeth to establish his dominance as hive queen supreme). I don't see why Doc Mercer should be exempt from that nuance, but he so very often is.

So that as my starting point, what do we know about Doc Mercer? Well, mostly from the PRIMA guide, we have his backstory. This backstory is so hilariously awful that I legitimately don't think I'd believe you if you told me he wasn't supposed to be sympathetic.

Xander's mom is thrown in jail right after he's born, no other family is willing/able to take him in, so he's thrust into the foster care system (no father is EVER mentioned, ever)

To make matters worse, Dana's bio mentions that she moved "to New York" to follow her brother, implying that they aren't NY-born, which further implies that they're from NEW FUCKING JERSEY LOL (it's only like, an hour's bus away from Columbia U, where Xander went to college)

Xander is kicked around foster care system like a hot potato until mom is released from jail. Seems like she either got pregnant right at the end of her stint, or right as she got out; he's 10 when she regains custody of him, but 9 when Dana is born.

Dana's bio says "[Xander] was the only parent figure Dana ever knew." It also said their mother had "drinking problems." Xander raised Dana to the degree that she literally doesn't even see her mom as a parent.

"For [Xander], foster care was better." Yikes. That's definitely an implication of abuse (if the parentification weren't enough). What kind of abuse? Well, they're often bundled together, but we can make a Strong Case for extreme violence at minimum, given the following:

What was mom in jail for? A 9-year sentence implies a second-degree crime, which, uh... take your pick: aggravated assault, aggravated arson, theft of an item more than 75k$, armed burglary or burglary that results in injury or threats of injury, unlawful possession of a firearm, sexual assault. Yikes

Bio outright describes it as living in "abject poverty," so with the fact that he was LITERALLY the only parent Dana knew (a role he was forced into starting at the age of TEN), as soon as he was legally able, he probably had to take on a job in addition to school and childrearing.

Given the "abject poverty" angle, I find it doubtful that he was able to leave home until he graduated, especially given that a commute from Jersey to Columbia U could be as short as an hour. Since he graduated from his PhD at the age of 24, that means he was Dana's parent until she was fifteen. 3/4 of her life by the time of the game.

Needs to be stressed: this man changed her diapers, warmed up her formula, cooked meals for her, helped her with homework, taught her sex-ed and what puberty was, helped her get her first job, taught her how to apply for college. He is, for all intents and purposes, Dana's father. (Put a pin in that!)

Like... holy shit! This is a sympathetic character! I don't know how anyone would be able to read that in isolation and not feel bad for this guy. I mean, this is a person who has literally ALL the trauma. Like, he's in the 99th percentile of worst childhoods in America. This boy has collected PTSDs like they are pokemon.

The PRIMA guide literally says that, at the end of all that, he "trusted no one, had no friends, cared less and less what others thought of him," and was an "impatient, dark, tortured person" with a history of burning bridges. "Forever paranoid," "morally ambiguous," and "teetering on the border of sociopathy" are also used to describe him, and - yeah, of course! I mean, did you SEE his backstory? Holy shit.

And what really fascinates me about this is that, even under those circumstances? He was probably the best parent he could have been to Dana. She literally sees him as one, stuck around NYC for five years because he was just that important to her, and trusts and cares for him so deeply that she's willing to risk her life for him/willing to forgive Alex ranting about how eating people "feels right."

Some people argue that he was using Dana as a pawn, or manipulating her, etc. etc., and I really dislike this take (though, of course, everyone's entitled to their own HCs etc., especially because a lot of the PRIMA stuff was clearly rewritten by the time of the game's release). First, I think that a working college girl with a fiery personality like Dana would not have stuck around for FIVE YEARS if she didn't feel like Xander deserved it - and given that he was also ghosting her for those five years, any manipulation he had her under would have worn off. Like, it's REALLY HARD to gatekeep gaslight girlboss someone if you're no-contact with them. Also, are you trying to tell me that an eleven-year-old boy was looking at a literal 2 year old going "yes... I will raise her to trust me absolutely... as a tool for me to use in the future... and then completely ignore her calls for 5 years!" C'mon.

But the second, and more important, reason I don't agree with that take is that I feel like it strips Dana of agency and reduces her to this almost damsel-like role. Nah, man, even if Xander was not her brother/dad, she would have risked her life to help him out. Why? Because she's a fucking anarcho-socialist journalism student, that's why!

Her PRIMA bio is really interesting in that regard; I feel like the game didn't show off well enough just how awesome Dana actually is. She's studying journalism at NYU. You may have heard that her job is "writing tabloids," but that's such a simplification/misunderstanding of the text! We actually have the titles of the publications she writes for, and they are: "Everything You Know Is Wrong", "Bathsheba", and "The Military/Industrial Complex Report." Even just from that small glimpse (and the fact that she calls Blackwatch "goose-stepping motherfuckers"), I think it's evident that she's got some deeply anti-government, anti-military, anti-fascist beliefs.

Furthermore, Dana is like... kind of a terrible person. Here's a great excerpt from her bio that I feel like isn't talked about enough (emphasis mine):

"She owes money all over town, and somehow manages to sweet talk friends into lending her more. She's a hustler, good at manipulating people. Like her brother, she's narcissistic and evasive. When she doesn't like someone she'll go out of her way to make sure they know it - particularly if they push the point. She's disrespectful, foul-mouthed, and not afraid of a fight. This all serves her well when she's neck-deep in a story, but in real life, her kind of behavior only makes her one thing: enemies. In short, she's her brother's sister."

Guys, I am not normal about that last sentence. It's phrased the same way as "she's her mother's daughter" or "she's her father's son." Like. Oh my god, Xander is basically her dad.

But back on topic: Dana is characterized as a BADASS BITCH who doesn't take shit from ANYBODY and is ALREADY anti-government. She literally calls the Blackwatch shit "the story of the century." She would have taken that case on even if it weren't her brother presenting it to her, no manipulation necessary.

AND she knew the risks. I've seen it argued that Xander's to blame for "tricking" her into investigating something that put her life in danger, but I think that's unfair to him. First, I think Blackwatch would've investigated and/or disappeared Dana either way, given how trigger-happy they are. Second, she knew the risks - that's why she was using her friend's penthouse apartment as a safehouse. She was prepared to risk her life for this story; BW just moved faster than she anticipated and ambushed her at her apartment.

(And, also, like, just as an aside, we don't know if she had permission to be in her friend's place, and given her PRIMA bio, she probably didn't, like she just full-on broke into her friend's really nice apartment LOL probably even chose the friend with the nicest digs LOL)

This also serves as such an interesting glimpse into not only her and her brother's relationship, but her brother's characterization. We already know that Xander possesses good social skills to some degree, given that he has a girlfriend who was willing to risk her life for him (she went back to the lab to get something for him, which is how she got caught - let's ignore for now the ethics of dating his subordinate); he also climbed the ranks at his job, rising to Associate Director (McMullen's direct subordinate) sometime within only five years.

Dana's bio, however, confirms it. Every description of her personality becomes associated with Xander with the phrase "she's her brother's sister." Xander is a hustler; he's manipulative and gets people to do what he wants. Xander is evasive, disrespectful, and lets people feel it when he doesn't like them. Xander makes enemies. BUT.

Even in the midst of all that - his paranoia, the fact that he's having a freak-out because his coworkers are being "silenced," and that he ghosted Dana for five years in an effort to leave the past behind him... who does he trust to have his back? Dana. I need you guys to understand. He doesn't go to Dana because she's an easy tool for him to manipulate. He goes to Dana because he's scared for his life and she is the only person he trusts. I think there's a reason Alex latches onto her when he learns she exists, and part of it is definitely because the scaffold he's built on, the original Dr. Mercer, viewed Dana as unconditionally trustworthy. The feeling is mutual.

And just in case you needed some sort of in-game proof? He has at LEAST two photos of Dana on his foyer wall. Legit. Go back and rewatch that cutscene when Alex walks into Xander's apartment. He has 2-3 photos of Karen... and 2-3 photos of Dana. He's been ghosting Dana, but he keeps photos of her on his wall, where he sees them every day, right next to where he works. One of the Dana photos is also the only photo that Xander is not in. I just... he loves his sister. He's just too mentally ill to be normal about it and keep in contact.

So, we have here pretty much Xander's ONLY redeeming quality: cares about his sister! That's it. That's all he's got. Let's talk about some other irredeemable stuff.

So far, I've talked a lot about the PRIMA guide, but now I'm going to talk about what's in the actual game, because it's quite interesting, and I don't think all of it made it into the fandom zeitgeist. It's too bad, because this one major fact really adds a shitton of nuance to this character:

Xander was out of the loop.

Xander did not know anything about Hope, Idaho. Xander did not know that Blackwatch existed. Xander didn't even fucking know that his human test subjects were deliberately infected. Within day one, Alex knows more about the conspiracy surrounding Blacklight than Xander ever did. And we know exactly how much he knew about the virus because he mailed Dana a laptop containing everything he was able to find, and it pretty much got as far as "MOTHER is named Elizabeth Greene" and "Hope, Idaho existed...?" We have a WOI where Randall expresses concern over even giving Xander access to MOTHER, and a WOI where Xander is pissed the hell off when he finds out that their human subjects were not naturally infected. He didn't know!

That suddenly casts his role in Blacklight's production in a much less nefarious light. Look at this job from Xander's point of view: You're a 24 year old who completed an 8-year college run (undergrad and PhD) in six years, WHILE raising a teenage girl and probably while working, too. At graduation, you get offered this insanely cushy job, with a threat that you'll be blacklisted from the industry if you refuse (this literally happened to Dr. Ragland, according to his PRIMA bio). It's a top-secret government job. The government's not great, but you have loose morals, and it can't possibly be worse than Albert Einstein building the atom bomb. So. Whatever.

(On top of that, they're already lying to you abour what the project's purpose is. Xander states he "didn't know" what he was working on until he "figured it out," and there's a WOI where one employee raves that the virus could be used to cure every disease on earth. It seems there was a general vibe that they were probably working bio-weapons, but no one knew FOR SURE, and a contributor to Xander's meltdown is the fact that his research results just... vanish. He doesn't know what they're being used for.)

Plus, holy shit, the pay. Xander is making, like, seven figures by the time he's 29. He lives in an apartment on the Upper East Side (where Gossip Girl takes place lol). The average price for a one-bedroom there is, like, 4000$ a month. This man spent 24 years in brutal poverty; the money matters to him.

On top of that, the stuff they're doing at GENTEK? Of course, it's stomach-turning, but it wouldn't clock as inherently unethical. Xander's fury at learning that MOTHER was a test subject, and not naturally infected (as he's been led to believe), implies that they were NOT infecting people at GENTEK. The bodies we see in WOI, their test subjects, were already infected by the time they got there, supplied to GENTEK with a cover story, that the virus was one they'd found naturally, and that these people - whose brains were fried by the virus - were just unlucky victims of random happenstance. Furthermore, making viruses more dangerous is legitimate virology. It's called "gain-of-function" experimentation, and while it is controversial (for obvious reasons), it's still something you would potentially be doing at an above-board lab.

That means that, prior to Penn Station, the worst Xander can be accused of is being a bootlicker, class traitor, who knowingly worked on WMDs for the US government. And yeah, that is monstrously evil, and Albert Einstein is a monster by that metric, but it's a level of evil that's matched or surpassed by almost every other character in the game. Dana and Ragland are the two exceptions, maybe Karen too, depending on whether you think her low hierarchical position absolves her of any sin. McMullen and everyone at Blackwatch are all more culpable than Xander. They're the ones giving him orders - he's the low man on the totem pole!

And his reaction upon realizing how deep the rabbit hole goes? It's not asking to join up with the evil side. It's not going out to do a terrorism (even if that's how it ends up). It's blowing the whistle. His first instinct is to go to his sister, the anti-government, anti-military journalism student. And as he spirals into panic and anxiety, it's to escape the city, while warning someone - probably Dana - to "get out of there". Even McMullen says, when Alex confronts him, "you were always so smart. You were ready to give up all our secrets. [...] We were trying to figure it out -- you just wanted to bring it all down." The class traitor was about to redeem himself. His motivations might still be selfish - to punish the people who lied to him, to save his own ass - but he's not a cartoon villain.

It's only after he's cornered, staring down guns, realizing that all his efforts were futile, possibly even realizing that Dana is next, that he smashes the vial. AND EVEN THEN... I think we're supposed to understand why he did it. Not sympathize, necessarily, but... look at his life. Abandonment, abuse, parentification. Skipping meals to make sure Dana can eat. Running on a sleep deficit because homework has to be done after helping Dana with hers after coming home from work after going to school. His wealth and girlfriend are hollow victories when he can't trust people enough to make friends. He loves his sister, enough to keep her photos on his foyer wall, but can't bear engaging with her as an adult on equal footing. He thought he'd finally caught a break, only for it to turn out to be a death trap from the start. Yes, choosing to smash the vial was an irredeemable action, a selfish, vindictive, and evil choice; however, I don't think he could have chosen differently. Dr. Mercer was not necessarily intended to be a sympathetic character (although he was), but he was certainly, bare-minimum, intended to be a tragic one.

It seems like the game went through several rewrites, and those rewrites confuse a pretty major plot beat: does the virus Xander releases at Penn Station burn itself out, or does it go on to become the main virus on the streets of Manhattan? This question, and where you personally fall on it, is really important. And that's because... if the virus burns itself out in Penn Station (which apparently the writer confirmed on Twitter, but there's evidence in the game to suggest the opposite), then that means Xander has one of the lowest body counts in the game.

Yeah, you heard me. Let's say the virus burns itself out in Penn Station. How many people would that even be? A few thousand? In 2009, Penn Station served about 300,000 people per day. That is really busy, but obviously, not all of those people - or even a majority of those people - are going to be in the station at any given time. It's probably a number around four digits. Um, how many people does Alex kill over the course of the game, again? Obviously, the in-game kill counts can't exactly be trusted, because you can rack up millions depending on how much you fuck around, but it's generally agreed that he's in the tens of thousands, between all the military bases he destroys, civilians he eats, and soldiers he cuts through. Randall has been confirmed to have ordered the glassing of both Hope, Idaho, AND Two Bluff, Arizona, with an attempt on Manhattan. (Cross also mentions a Kentucky in one of the cut lines, implying there's more cities and casualties than we even know about.) There are 1.6 million people living in Manhattan in 2009, so Randall was about to kill, like, a thousand times more people than Xander.

It also means he never put Dana in danger. If it's a virus that burns out on its own, he - the person whose work was "years ahead of his nearest competitor" - would know that it wouldn't reach her. And it would make sense if it burns out, too, because it's a bio-weapon. Not a great bio-weapon if it causes a a whole-ass apocalypse! And I also don't think it's fair to blame Xander for Alex letting Elizabeth Greene out of her cage, because by that point, 1) Xander is dead, 2) Dana sent Alex there, 3) Alex is a fully sapient and independent being who is not under Xander's orders because Xander is dead. I mention this because I've literally run into people who believe that the virus burned itself out at Penn Station, BUT ALSO that Xander releasing the vial directly put Dana in danger of infection AND that Elly's rampage is somehow his fault. You can't have it both ways!

That's actually why I don't believe that the virus burned itself out. Narratively and thematically, it's much better if Xander did release his virus knowing that it might cause a full-on apocalypse. That does make it so that he risked his sister's life (although you can argue that he figured she was as good as dead, anyways, given that they'd tracked him down - I don't, since I think he was too busy panicking and being sleep-deprived to be thinking about that), and it DOES make the entire ensuing tragedy his fault. And the reason that this is important is because of Xander's role as a "father" to Alex.

Here's something else that's important to note, which I often see overlooked: Alex places the blame on the shoulders of Randall, not Xander. "You bastard," he says after he's eaten Randall. "You could have stopped all this - you let it happen." Meanwhile, here's what he actually says about Xander: "what Mercer did is beyond forgiveness," and at the end of the game, "Alex Mercer. This city suffered for his mistakes, for what he did at Penn Station. And whoever he was - that's a part of me." We aren't supposed to think he's unilaterally evil without nuance. Pretty much everyone, Alex included, has done things "beyond forgiveness" in this game. We're instead supposed to ponder what it means to be derived from his stock.

What is Alex's characterization? To be frank, Alex is a dumbass baby. I know that this is not necessarily popular, but I genuinely believe that it's intentional. There are literally cut lines from the very first mission that REALLY drive home that this poor guy has NO IDEA what's going on. Begging people to stop shooting at him, thinking to himself "where's a place with a lot of people?" (honey, you're in NYC), and generally going "what was that? how did this happen? what's going on? what? huh? what?"

There's also needing Ragland to suggest to him the novel idea of breaking both spines on the leader hunters, and following Phone Voice into a death trap, and then still listening to Phone Voice a second time, not to mention how awkwardly he shrugs his way out of Karen Parker's hug, or how he's constantly pushing himself all the way into Dana's personal space/startling her/disappearing while no one's watching. There's a point where his brilliant plan for getting McMullen to land is to disable some infection detectors... while standing ankle-deep in biomass... looking up at McMullen. He's just, ah, ehm... not the sharpest tool in the shed. If you replay the game with that in mind, it... yeah. I mean. His first instinct upon being attacked by helicopters is to go up onto the roof of a building, where he is surprised by... more helicopters. Who left this child unattended? Where are your guardians.

I know I'm exaggerating - Alex does show remarkable flexibility and adaptability and on-the-fly problem-solving sometimes - but when the PRIMA bios and McMullen repeatedly stress that Xander is clever, manipulative, a schemer, a hustler, "so smart," it really highlights how... straightforward Alex is in comparison. You cannot tell me that Alex, as he's presented in-game, is "a lateral thinker - plans within plans."

And the interesting thing is, this actually seems like a fairly late-stage change! The original PRIMA guide blurb for "The Prototype" seems to suggest that he is actually an amnesiatic Dr. Mercer, not a wholly separate entity. It goes on and on about how "The Prototype" is cool, calm, dry and witty, always in control of his body, etc. etc., but that really doesn't match the in-game characterization at all (he's consistently characterized as awkward, unsure of himself), meaning that I think this is more proof that a characterization as "fucking idiot dumbass baby" was intentional.

Sampling of cut voice lines:

"Ghost Twelve, Ghost Twelve... oh, shit, that's my callsign..."

"Aw, I hate D-Codes..."

"They think I'm dead. Perfect. I can't wait to see the look on McMullen's face."

"I need to get somewhere with a lot of people... somewhere where they can't just keep firing at me."

"Where is there a lot of fucking people? Where?" (girliepop you live in NEW YORK)

"Just remember! This was your idea!"

like. cmon, man.

That being said, Alex is not innocent. He starts the game without a conscience, easily and effortlessly killing people, instinctively eating them, too. He's quite literally built upon two existing minds - the people-eating virus, and the sociopathic misanthrope. I think this is why he defaults to shoving people and has no option to put them down gently - he's filled with Xander's rage, his hatred, and his casual cruelty. One of his earliest lines is this: "revenge was the only clear thought in my head. The only one I could call mine." LITTLE DOES HE KNOW. He continues. "I wanted to find out what happened to me. The reason. Someone to blame. Someone I could punish."

And now we get into a major theme of the game, my thesis: [PROTOTYPE] is about family. It's about nature vs. nurture, it's about the cycle of abuse, and it's about how the people who raise us, shape us. Xander is the "father" of this story; he's consistently placed in that role relative to Dana, and Alex directly inherits his genetics, his appearance, his name, and even his initial personality from him. And as for the mother... there is literally a character in the game named MOTHER.

Alex is, in a very literal way, the child of Xander and Elizabeth Green. He was born out of a fusion of their DNA - the virus infecting Xander's body. Elizabeth also literally says "I am your MOTHER" in their first meeting. And as if that weren't enough, Elizabeth's relationship to Alex directly mirrors Xander's relationship with his own mother: the first thing Elizabeth does is abandon Alex, and when she returns, it's only to threaten Dana's safety and torment him. Xander himself becomes a mirror to his own absent father, disappearing before he ever got to know his son. This is the cycle of abuse, the tragedy that occurs when someone who was abused becomes trapped by it, and has no ability to operate outside its confines, perpetuating the pain that was inflicted upon them.

However... something's different. Alex is not left alone to suffer like Xander does. He has Dana - a parental figure who loves him unconditionally, whom he loves unconditionally in turn. And she is the impetus for his ability to change, the one who most directly molds his burgeoning consciousness. His interactions with Dana are brief, but even in those brief interaction, she teaches him empathy ("my god, [Elizabeth]'s just a girl. What kind of fucking monsters are these people?"), kindness/mercy ("whoa, whoa, whoa. [Ragland]'s a good guy"), and trust ("look, no matter what, you're still my brother"). Let's go back to our pin. Xander is Dana's "father" also... and he was the best one she could have had, given the circumstances. Dana represents breaking the cycle. Dana represents Xander's single redeeming quality.

In other words... the key difference between Alex and Xander is that Alex has an adult figure in Dana that he can trust and rely upon, something Xander never had... because Xander was that for Dana. Xander broke the cycle. That's the one good thing he managed to do.

Now, we know that lots of rewrites happened, that final boss stuff got shifted around, and things got moved into a sequel hook, like Dana's fate or PARIAH's whole deal. However, I think we can almost piece together what it might have been if we follow this thematic line of thinking. Because here's something quite interesting: PARIAH... is in foster care. A child who kills everything he touches, abandoned and trapped, a monster, whose only use is as an agent of evolution, a direct parallel for Xander at his worst - this tortured man who "found solace only in his work", for whom foster care was better, who teetered on sociopathy and didn't care. Randall represents the government, the system, that put him there - the first ones to ever screw Xander over. So if we assume that the final boss was originally PARIAH, and Alex still needs to eat his way through Elizabeth and Randall to get to him, then an incredibly interesting thing happens when we view that sequence of events from this thematic perspective.

Alex would triumph over MOTHER, the government, and Xander's worst. The crystallization of the fleeting love within Xander's heart - the one redeeming facet of Xander's personality - would overcome his abusive mother, the cold-hearted system that forsook him, and even his own worst traits, the monster he was molded into. Quite literally, love would win. And I think this would have even tied in to curing Dana - that this would become a major facet of Alex's motivation - that he'd need PARIAH in order to cure her, or something like that. Dana - kindness, empathy, and love, breaking the cycle of abuse - becomes the impetus for Alex to change, to become a better person, to grow a conscience, to trust others. I think that's the central theme of this game.

Xander's shadow looms large over the entirety of [PROTOTYPE]'s story. There are more themes than just family, but it's the one I wanted to highlight, because I think it's the one most central, most core to the game's emotional experience. At every turn, you can feel the ghost of Xander - not just because Alex is literally wearing his corpse.

I'll restate here the relevant parts of Alex's closing monologue:

"I looked for the truth. Found it. Didn't like it. Wish to hell I could forget it. Alex Mercer. This city suffered for his mistakes, for what he did at Penn Station. And whoever he was - that's part of me."

Xander is Alex's father - the person from whom he inherited his base nature. But Alex is able to grow beyond that - to trust others, to love others.

"What have I become? Something less than human. But also something more."

Xander was so tormented by his past, by his abandonment, neglect, and abuse, that he was unable to face his sister. Terrified of the pain of abandonment, he chose to abandon her rather than risk being rejected when she became an adult. And yet, he loved his sister. That's the nuance of this character, the legacy he leaves. One of cruelty, but also one of kindness. Both are inherited by Alex - it's fair to say that everything Alex is has been shaped by Xander, his father. The bad... but also the good. And it is because of that miniscule, faltering, fleeting "good" that Xander was able to procure, that Alex is able to rise above what Xander became.

TL;DR: It would be appropriate, both narratively and thematically, to call Xander "daddy".

[chaoticevilspacewitch]

Praise for 'We May Fall'

I knew that when I decided to write We May Fall, a Pollination fic- much less an explicit one- that it was going to be a tough sell to RWBY fans who like story, character development, and actual sapphic romance and relationships. Because let's face it, our fandom is littered with "Team RWBY fucks everyone"- usually very much catered to the cishet male gaze. But, the story in my head is very insistent on being told, so I decided to give it a try.

Therefore, the comments it's getting absolutely thrill me!

"I almost passed on this story but I'm extremely glad I didn't. This has been great, and I'm here for the long haul now."

"Really love this fic and I love that even if Weiss is the primary protag through this story I love that the other girls in RWBY aren't ignored. I especially love the delicate handling of trans issues with sex like body dysphoria."

"Also i love how you write smut(said it before and i'll say it again). It's still incredibly hot whilst being awkward and goofy. Probably the best smut writer i've seen."

"I absolutely love this story! I did go in just sort of looking for a smut story to pass the time but it’s just so well written. Your description of people’s feelings for one another is just great."

So yeah, that's me tooting my own horn a bit, because I'm still obsessed with this crazy brain baby of mine and want more people to enjoy it (also, I'm vain and my kudos counter makes my brain go vroom!)

[kristeristerin]

I saw your post and OMG Eris x reader Drabble with Taylor Swift’s Love Story would be amazing!!

AN: Thank you so much for the ask! This ended up taking a different route that I'd originally thought it would, but I hope you enjoy it!

I'm having so muh fun writing these already and can't wait to post more!

If you want to request a Taylor Swift X ACOTAR drabble just send me an ask with the song and character you'd like to see! I'm hoping to get through her entire discography eventually! <3

Song: Love Story

Pairing: Reader X Eris

Content warnings: None

Words: 798

Summary: After an arguement with your brother regarding your relationship with a certain High Lord's son, your Mate shows up to whisk you away.

“He’d never hurt me!” you yelled at your brother, though you knew it was in vain. He’d made up his mind about the Autumn Court heir many years ago.

“You don’t know that,” Tamlin ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. Your argument was taking a toll on his usual immaculate appearance. “You don’t know what he or his court is capable of. I am just trying to keep you safe.”

“No,” you shook your head at him, “You’re trying to control me. You don’t want to admit that I am old enough to make my own choices. Eris is my mate! I felt the bond tonight and he did too. Please be reasonable Tamlin.”

Your brother slammed his hands down onto his study desk. “You know damn well-being mates doesn’t mean anything. Look at the relationship between Mother and Father. They two ran head first into what they believed was a love match and instead ended up in misery.”

The reminder of your parents brought tears to your eyes as you stood and began to walk toward the door. “He’s not Father, Tamlin. And frankly, Neither are you. I don’t need your permission to pursue my mate.”

You pause at the sound of wood splintering behind you, but you don’t dare turn around.

“I may not be Father, but I am your High Lord and you will do as I say.”

You look over your shoulder enough to see his claws out and digging into the desk before you shrug, “You’re my High Lord for now, brother, but understand this conversation is far from over.”

You hold your breath as you quickly exit the room and shut the door behind you. The sound from Tamlin’s study tells you that he is once again tearing the place apart. You can’t help but wonder who you really need protection from.

Once inside your bedroom, you take a moment to steady your breathing, before a shadow on your balcony almost causes you to scream. Quickly crossing the room you pull the male inside before throwing yourself into his arms.

“Eris, what are you doing here?” you whispered. “If Tamling finds you here he will kill you.” You clutch his tunic with both hands and bury your face into his chest.

“I came for you,” he angles your head up to look at him. “I admittedly don’t have much to offer you, and there is still so much that we have to work out. But everything that I am and everything that I possess is yours.”

With that, he takes a step back from you and drops to one knee taking both of your hands in his. “Y/n, My mate, my love, will you do me the honor of also becoming my wife?”

You can’t help the tears that begin streaming down your face as you silently nod. You pull your hands from his and launch yourself at him, causing him to lose balance as you both fall to the floor with a dull thud. The sound seems to echo in your otherwise silent bedroom.

The next thing you know you can hear a door close down the hall and Tamlin’s heavy footsteps making their way toward your bedroom. Before he has a chance to knock on your door you are across the room and speaking to him through the door. “I’m fine Tamlin. I knocked over a stack of books. Please leave me alone, we will speak at breakfast tomorrow.”

He is silent for a moment before you hear him sigh, “Very well, but I expect you to be ready to listen to reason in the morning. Good night, Y/N.

You and Eris remained silent until you heard Tamlin’s door shut down the hall. Then all at once you moved toward your wardrobe and began throwing a few things into a bag. You tossed the hastily packed bag onto your bed before you moved to your desk and scribbled out a note for your brother.

When you were finished you noticed Eris was once again waiting on the balcony, this time with your bag in one hand and his other hand reaching out to you.

“All that’s left to do is run,” you smile at him as you put your hand in his and he winnows you both away.

—-------------------------

The next morning Tamlin sat in your now ruined bedroom with your note clenched in his fist.

Tamlin,

By the time you read this, I’ll already be gone, and Eris and I will likely already be married. I am happy and safe. Please do not try looking for me. I will reach out again once we have both had time to cool down. In the meantime, take care of yourself.

With all of my love,

Y/N

[randoimago]

Congratulations on your follower milestone! 😃

May I please request a one-shot with Kanji from Persona 4? Confessing Feelings while cooking dinner?

Missing Ingredient

Fandom: Persona 4

Character(s): Kanji Tatsumi

Type of Request: 3,000 Followers Oneshots

Note(s): I have learned that if I get a request from you that more often than not, it'll have something to do with food. I now keep snacks on hand while I write so I don't get hungry.

But thank you and I hope you enjoy this!!

"Half a teaspoon... Quarter cup of.... They really make these things complicated, huh?" Kanji comments as he reads the recipe you gave him. You already seemed to know what you were doing, and Kanji insisted on helping so you wrote the recipe down for him to follow along.

"Well, it doesn't have to be exact. Baking is where everything needs t be precise, cooking is more measuring with your heart when it comes to certain things," you reply and Kanji nods and makes a face.

"Is that why the girls suck at cooking?"

"Yukiko is getting better. And Naoto is great at cooking." You can't help defending them, but a smile is on your face at how easily Kanji made the comment.

He's never been one to shy away from being blunt. You notice the shrug Kanji gives, but there is a bit of a smile at the mention of Naoto. Maybe you shouldn't have mentioned the detective while trying to spend time with him...

"The recipe seems to be missing something though..." Kanji thankfully takes you away from your thoughts before they became more green and made you feel worse. You give him a curious look since you don't think you missed anything. And Kanji hasn't cooked this dish with you before so you don't know how he can tell something is missing.

"What's that?" You ask and Kanji looks up at you, almost like he's in pain.

"Love."

There's a bit of a silence after the cheesy comment. You had not expected something like that to come out of Kanji's mouth. And by the looks of it, Kanji didn't look pleased at all that he said it. Laughter escapes your lips as you take in the five stages of grief that cross his face at saying such a cheesy comment.

"Yosuke told me I should say that while cooking," Kanji mutters as you continue to giggle, the tips of his ears reddening as he tries to hide his face behind the recipe.

"That makes more sense. I'll be sure to sprinkle in some love then, so it wasn't in vain," you tell him, and he grumbles as you both resume cooking. Giggles leaving your lips now and then while Kanji sulks a bit. Although, a thought does cross your mind. "Why did Yosuke say you should use that line?"

Kanji stutters as the tips of his ears become more red. He glances away as he seems to try and figure out a response before muttering, "To hell with it." You look at him with confusion as he looks up at you with a determined and an angry blush on his face. "Cause I like you."

Kanji, the guy that most people perceive as tough and a punk that broke things and people's faces without a care. The guy that you had gotten to know to be secretly sweet and very supportive of his friends. The one that made you several stuffed animals when you were sick as well as a scarf when fall had arrived. The guy that you had been crushing on but didn't say anything because you didn't want to get in the way of his feelings for someone else (that he doesn't even have apparently). The guy that is staring at you as you process his words still and watch him looking more nervous as seconds pass.

"You like me?" Is the first thing you ask, your tone one of disbelief and you want to smack yourself for questioning him instead of confessing back.

"Yeah, I do," he says and opens his mouth to continue talking but his eyes go wide. "Aw shit, I'll give you a list why later. The food is burning."

That caused both of you to scramble to fix things. You hear Kanji grumbling about how he should've waited until after it was made. A small smile crosses your face as you look over at him as he turns the temperature down on one of the burners.

"I like you too, by the way," you say and immediately regret it as his attention turns to you and not the popping oil in the pan. A curse flies from his mouth as you're quick to try to get his arm under some running water.

"We'll talk more after we finish this." Is a statement you both agree to as you want to avoid more injuries and mishaps. At least the dish got that ingredient that you left out of the recipe earlier.

[dreamdaddydutch]

Christmas Headcanons

I wrote some Christmas/festive season headcanons featuring some of the gang along with a few thoughts on the gang in the modern day. I may write a part 2 for this with other characters (I realise I have left Arthur off!) Only warnings are: Mentions of alcoholism and violence. Seasonal depression. 

Javier

Javier both loves and hates this time of year, it reminds him of his family especially as they were quite religious. Does Javier believe in God? That’s a question for another day and a big one at that. He’s seen so much and suffered so much it makes it hard for him to believe in a God in the traditional sense. But he will still say his rosary/kiss the beads occasionally.

As a child there were some pretty awful Christmases when his father was drunk and violent – though he’d still punish Javier if he took the Lord’s name in vain. Somehow that was a sin to his father but being violent or spending a lot of the families money on booze wasn’t.

Christmas is in interesting time for him, there’s some pain associated with it but overall loves the festive season and although not a fan of the snow/cold, he enjoys getting snug and cosy.

He’s just so grateful for the Van Der Linde Gang who are now his family and will love to sing festive songs around the camp fire with them.

He really loves mulled wine and cider, cinnamon in whiskey etc.

In terms of romantic life – Javier is the sweetest when it comes to the festive season and would want to spoil his partner with gifts, kisses, food etc.

Will take them to a party to go dancing - wearing the most fancy clothing he owns. 

Absolutely smooches under the mistletoe. If he’s with someone in a committed relationship, he will give them the biggest kiss under the mistletoe, tongues, teeth, yeah it’s gonna make other people hot and bothered. If there’s someone he likes in camp then yeah he’s gonna use the mistletoe for his first, romantic move – of course he’ll ask permission before he kisses him, but it’s a talking point and a way to get them away from others. If Javier is drunk then yeah he’ll pretty much kiss any member of the gang underneath the mistletoe, except Uncle!

Sadie

Doesn’t really get it – but deep down she knows she used to love the holidays, but since Jake was killed it just isn’t the same.

More likely to volunteer at a soup kitchen and want to spend as much time with others as possible. If she’s left alone with her thoughts, she’s liable to get a little bit sad.

But she’s glad for all the food, alcohol and singing. Additionally having Jack around helps her to forget her own pain, she can spend some time with him and seeing how excited he is gets her excited too.

Probably has some nice late-night chats with Arthur and Javier over a few whiskeys. All three of them struggle with the short days, cold, memories of the pasts and seeing happy families, so they seek comfort with one another.

She’s not going to help put up decorations or bake, she probably isn’t going to want to sing either. But she will help make a lot of extra special, delicious mulled wine with Pearson which goes down a treat at camp. While she won’t say it aloud or let others know, she actually enjoys getting involved and doing something for the camp that leaves her feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

Charles

For Charles this period is all about reflection, especially with the New Year coming up. He takes stock of his life and what he wants to achieve.

Really enjoys winter sunrise and sunsets and will use them to get up and go hunting by himself.

If he’s with someone he’ll take them along on his hunting trips. Think cosy camps, blankets, hot chocolate with whiskey. Very romantic.

He’s kind of indifferent to the day itself, getting more excited about New Year. But he will ensure he hunts a great boar, large deer or something special to feed the entire gang on the day and will help Pearson to prepare it.

He loves hearing others tell stories round the fire, perhaps folk law surrounding yule and the traditions associated with New Year. 

Dutch

He has a love/hate relationship with the season, it reminds him too much of Annabelle and that leaves him vulnerable and sad. But he understands that for the gang it’s very important to celebrate, throw a party, feast and have a few days off from hustling.

He would put a little money aside to afford some decorations – holly, mistletoe, candles and small gifts for the gang – though nothing expensive and would not be buying himself. He’ll send Molly out, but for her he will buy her something special.

In fact it’ll become a bit of a mission for him and Hosea or Arthur to go into town without anyone knowing where he’s going so he can get a special gift for her.

Dutch gets very red faced after drinking, and during the festive season it is no different, in fact during the festive season it’s one of the only times that Dutch really lets his hair down.

John

Behaves a little like a kid at Christmas, but he blames this on Jack and wanting to be excited for his son. Abigail knows the truth.

He’ll still put a stocking out for himself.

Will actually really surprise Abigail by buying a beautiful and well thought out gift that he’s spent ages saving for. He may also make something for her too.

Loves the extra excuse for getting drunk and isn’t sorry.

Avoids Mistletoe like the plague, even if Abigail has it he gets really embarrassed and tries to run away from her while flushed red. Of course Abigail and others find it hilarious and in the end he will relent and kiss her.

Molly

Being the romantic belle that she is, Molly loves this time of year. There are so many excuses to cuddle up with Dutch alone in a hotel room or in their tent. Plenty of moments to be together under warm blankets and to warm one another up.

She absolutely has dresses that are especially made for the season, a lot of white, red and green. Even if she appears over dressed in camp she doesn’t care, she just wants to look her best for Dutch and doesn’t mind that she gets the attraction of the men in camp.

One of the few occasions where she will drink a little bit more and allow herself to get merry. Partly because of how she views herself in comparison to others and partly because she’s afraid of losing control, she generally doesn’t drink that much with the gang. She loves a glass or two of wine when out with Dutch or when she feels safe, but it just isn’t something she’s fond of. However, during the festive time of year she allows herself to let her hair down, drinks more and will laugh, sing and dance with the others. The rest of the gang love this side of Molly and are happy that even though it’s only for a brief time, that she allows herself to get close to them and gets off her high horse.

Her year will be made if Dutch makes a big romantic gesture underneath the mistletoe and kiss her in front of everyone before sweeping her off her feet and taking her to bed.

Tilly

Tilly would love nothing more than to join a choir during the festive season. She loves singing and being a part of something so pure, magical and spiritual means a lot to her. Plus it’s fun and nice to get away from the gang for a bit – thought she’ll love the parties with the gang and singing.

Lights lots of candles round camp on Christmas Eve and tells Jack stories – with him sat on her lap.

The festive season is absolutely the time for board games, card games and dominoes. Tilly has an amazing poker face, she’s competitive and a skilled player. She may go a little easier due to the festive spirit and all of that… but she loves the excuse to play games more than usual. Instead of money they play for sweets, mince pies and small treats.

Makes homemade gifts for all of the gang, there’s different gifts depending on the person. Baked goods is a big one, sweets for Jack, pressed flowers for some of the boys for them to keep as good luck charms etc. She takes care wrapping presents in brown paper and tied up nicely in string with a beautiful bow.

Hosea

Hosea is traditional when it comes to Christmas, he’ll want to go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve and is happy to take any of the gang with him as long as they behave! He’ll wear his best clothes.

Loves singing Christmas carols and drunkenly singing more fun festive songs in equal measure.

Is responsible for bringing the mistletoe back to camp.

Expert in wrapping presents and choosing gifts which are perfect for the person due to receive them.

Loves to tell festive Ghost stories round the camp fire late at night, he’s really good at acting things out, putting on voices and building up the tension.

Modern thoughts on this:

Jack knows he saw Father Christmas on his sleigh and all his reindeer. In fact this was actually a clever bit of ‘magic’ that John, Arthur and Javier work out.

Charles – absolutely loves the Christmas special drinks at Starbucks, Costa etc. Egg Nog Latte is his favourite.

Susan actually relaxes and takes some time for self care, going and getting her nails done with Festive nail art and lots of glitter before the Christmas party is a must.

Javier knows Christmas is here when the Coke advert is on…and will start to sing, ‘Holidays are coming’ round the fire place.

The girls and Kieran would love to go and see a Christmas light switch on, especially if there’s a pop star or soap actor doing the switch on.

Javier is the King of ice-skating, while others in the gang are falling over their feet and cannot stay up for the life of them, Javier will be spinning on the ice. His physique, agility and balance means he knows how to pull the moves. If he’s in a relationship he’s going to take them for a romantic spin and stop to kiss them on the ice, making everyone else feel a little jealous but gooey inside.

Arthur loves Hallmark Christmas movies – fight me.

Dutch is terrible at wrapping presents, they’re really, really bad. He just gives up in the end and puts lots of Sellotape round the parcels.

The girls, Javier, Sean and Bill end up singing ‘All I want for Christmas’ at Karaoke.

When the gang suggests secret santa, Arthur absolutely hates it, he wants no part of it and thinks it’s ridiculous. What’s the point!

Taking Jack to visit Santa, but instead of just John and Abigail taking him several other gang members would go along as they’d want to know what all the fuss was about.

[anemoi-i]

Rain Towards Dawn - Before The First Day -

Diluven | Rated M | No Reposts.

In which a So-Called-God seeks the approval of a mortal, like that has not gone wrong.

Warnings: Depictions of graphic violence, religious references and imagery, canon divergent. Some formatting may be different from the aO3 version.

Part One [Here] | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

“Do not seek the approval of mortals. It will only bring you pain.”

That conversation from long ago plays over and over in Venti’s head like a broken record. He won’t outright say Morax was right, no, that would be giving him too much credit than he’d like—it’s just that now it rings like a prophecy he should have adhered to. No, I will admit Morax was right and I damn him for being so. I damn him for the very reason I fell into his arms and I smelled that fucking lingering Osmanthus Wine on his person and cried into his shoulder as he stroked my hair without a care in the world, knowing I would come back to him so easily.

For all of his love for mortals and the perseverance they often brought with their existence, they could also bring cruelties. Oh, they could bring cruelties. Often against themselves, often in the name of Archons such as himself and often towards Archons. Venti won’t talk about 500 years ago. He can’t. How can I talk about mine own sins when even uttering a word would sign my death warrant? Those Ones Above would feel enjoyment to slit my neck should I try, wouldn’t they?

Those events always made him think the same thing each time he felt this way: were he allowed to feel melancholy? To suffer when he and those he called friends were called and forced to incite suffering upon a nation? The sins he bears are many. Too many.

He wished for Mondstadt to forsake his influence, but even he cannot interfere with their freedom. He hears the prayers and the reverence. It still existed. How did it still exist when he hasn’t even shown his face, nor does he even want to? There were even some members of the Lawrence Clan who changed their minds over the aristocracy nonsense which really baffled him.

It’s strange to know that some still respect him as their Archon.

But it is not a surprise to know that there are some that do not.

One night, at Angel’s Share—

Venti eyed the Sisters of the Favonius Church and frowned. They were here, enjoying themselves within reason, taking dainty sips of their non alcoholic wines and conversing amongst one another. Sister Victoria took upon a broom much to Diluc’s eternal dismay and annoyance and chased Nimrod out per Eury’s request as if he were nothing but a pesky rat. He felt the atmosphere diminish for each moment they were present here. It was at that moment I wondered why they were here for a tavern seemed much out of place for them to be. They mocked me with their so called pliancy and garbage scripture they made up about “me.” How about this? Unless you ripped that scripture from my throat or made me write the Book with my own blood, it doesn’t count so “stop taking my name in vain.”

The Dandelion Wine burns. It never burns. He keeps to himself. He never keeps to himself. He pretends like he isn’t annoyed—no, royally pissed off—and opened his mouth to ask Diluc for another tankard of wine but nothing comes out. Actually, he looked annoyed his damn self. His hands trembled slightly, his right eye twitched and the bags under his eyes told a story he didn’t want to tell.

He snapped, “Why do you look at me so intensely?”

Venti didn’t realize he were looking.

He turned his head away lest his voice betray him. Don’t fucking snap at me. I may be just-the-tiniest-bit-enamoured-with-you-which-is-not-a-great-idea, but don’t snap at me! I won’t have it!

He looks at the Sisters again. Rosaria was in a corner drinking far more excessively than they would allow with Kaeya, and no, it wasn’t that cheap non alcoholic shit. Unlike them, Rosaria didn’t give one little fuck that they were there, while Jilliana tried to reason with her to join them for godlier more reasonable merrymaking. She denied every time. As she should. As she should.

This time, Diluc’s eyes were on him, staring.

Venti pretended to ignore him. He could feel grotesque emotions radiating off of him and wanted nothing of it. Should they clash, they would be the water and oil kind of mix. As in, they wouldn’t mix and it would be chaotic and explosive. He wasn’t staring at me. He was judging me. Those Sisters got to his pretty little head, I’m sure. That night, I found out a terrible thing that caused heartache. Yes, all of that anger was directed towards me. Me, me, me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he wanted to break a glass and shove it in my face. Would I blame him? Yes. Would I understand his reasoning? …Yes.

If there were one game he were good at, it was the art of ignoring obvious glances at his person. He got up from the bar and faked laughed with the drunks, whipped out Der Frühling and played tunes that made him break down in the middle of Windrise  told of Old Mondstadt up until the end when the merrymaking ended and the Sisters (finally) finally left and it was him and Diluc.

“Say your piece.”

From the bar, Diluc looked up. The towel he was using to clean the tankards slipped from his fingers unceremoniously and once again that gaze was upon him, one that Venti matched with his own, crossing his arms and leaning against a pillar. He didn’t know if Diluc expected him to cower away and be intimidated. I saw his eyes change that night. He was surprised to see my aggressiveness but easily made it seem like it did not phase him. As expected of a man that was one of the most powerful figures in my nation (“my nation” he did forget.)

“Come again?” He feigned innocence.

Venti resisted rolling his eyes. That would be rude, wouldn’t it? Such rudeness was beneath him. I was waiting for the moment it would be time to be “rude” and it wasn’t that time yet. I am not an uncaring God that I would not listen to the concerns of my people. I do so all of the time. The Threads tell me who needs me.

“Say your piece,” Venti repeated, his voice raising.

“Do you listen to the concerns of your people?”

Venti smiled. I smiled, but my eyes did not show it. I was never good at that, no matter how much I tried. I know why he asks me this. I spend my days in this tavern drinking wine after wine without a care in the world, enjoying the fruits of labor Mondstadt’s people have done. Some in Mine Name, others in Their Own. It is how this world worked. Some were believers, others were not. As I said before, I’d wanted the whole of this beloved nation to forsake me. I’d be in lesser pain.

“I do. All of the time.”

“You sip wine after wine here and you expect me to believe you?”

Venti, who had little care if Diluc believed him who’d wanted Diluc to believe in him so badly, kept smiling.

“I do,” he repeated. “All of the time.”

“We have suffered,” he continued.

“I know.” How could I have not known the suffering? I saw it before my eyes, it happened every day. It continues to happen. Even right now I am suffering, because I know what comes next. I know what comes next here and I know what he will say and there is little I can do to prove how genuine I am. I would carve my own heart out to prove it.

For the second time that night, Diluc snapped.

“Do you, really? What is it, exactly, that you do?”

Everything. “It seems to me that you think I do nothing.”

“You don’t.”

Venti closed his eyes. Is eons worth of proof not enough?

“While you stay here lofty and unaware, I forget myself for everyone. I pick up the pieces  you do not want to pick up, So-Called-God, and I place them back together so that we may all live to awake to another dawn and work another morning.”

“Why do you not tell me of your troubles?”

“It would fall on deaf ears.”

“It would not.” Not when I was to prevent a Fatui Agent from driving a knife through your throat while you slept in your bed in three days time. Not when I prevented --------- from taking your life on That Fateful Day when you toyed with Her subordinates seeking a truth you would never gain.

Then came the words that hit.

“I don’t care to believe you and I don’t care to place my faith in you.”

Venti turned on his heel towards the door for if he stayed longer, his actions would betray him as his voice already wanted to.

Before he actually left, he shrugged and uttered one phrase:

“Well, you certainly have the freedom to do so.”

Dusk reigns.

Venti travelled the streets like he normally did. The winds around him were chaotic and untamed and he did nothing to try to control it. Old boxes danced in the lit alleyways, the shopsigns threatening to come off of their chains and turn into weapons. The Threads tried to calm him. They could not. Venti looked up at the cold sky, towards That Place that watched everything and wondered if he were the joke of the night. The jester God who held his title only to be entertainment and not a single thing more.

He couldn’t help himself of his anger and punched the sturdy fortress of the city, leaving a large bowl of a dent in it’s stone. He gritted his teeth, wishing for carnage. There was only ONE thing those stupid fucking scriptures got right about “me.” It was that the winds reflected my mood. They could not be happy when I was not. They could not be sad when I was not. They were an extension of myself and right now, the Threads tried to comfort me. I didn’t want comforting.

He wanted to scream.

He did.

He screamed and several shops would awake tomorrow to their signs damaged on the cobblestone. He’d return and leave enough mora at their tipjars for a full replacement. The next thing he did is run before any of the Ordo Favonius inquired about the scream and the damage. His humble abode Windrise awaited. Sometimes, I missed Vennessa. She was a beauty. She accepted me as I was and me stay by her side. She respected me and treated me kindly. How did her spirit rest in That Place? I’d wished I could see her again. I also wished I could see my beloved bard again. His songs still shine brilliantly in my mind.

The So-Called-God cries.

Venti cries, but he does not know what he cries for. Perhaps it is the bucket he keeps in his mind that has finally overflowed, forcing him to empty it. The roots of Windrise understand. It comforts him and lulls him to sleep. The winds converge and blanket it’s master in protection.

The weather calms.

[ashpentagram]

somewhat nonsensical Stella rant I guess (spoiler alert: wasted potential)

I think the funniest thing, and also a somewhat disheartening and obvious jump in excitement via the writers was revealing Stella to be behind the attempted murders of Stolas so early in the show. You could argue that episode 5 of a 7 (planned to be 8) episode season is not early, but when you take into account the original plan for Helluva Boss was there was gonna be a drop of eight episodes over the course of a year and then another drop to round out the season, you can at least say that it wasn’t intended, at least at first, to be a short season. And that frustrates me, because taking your time is never a bad thing, especially with something indie. Make the larger season. Take your time with the writing and the episodes. Just be kind to your creation instead of dropping important filler for CHERUB.

Original point is that revealing Stella to be the one behind Striker in episode 5 was a bad move, even if her original plan was a great way to build a multifaceted villain in the simplest way possible. Basically the way I viewed her actions was:

- Stolas slept with an imp, a scandal just waiting to happen that would crumble Stella’s image and credibility as a royal

- Stella derives a plan to hire an imp (a lowest born) to kill Stolas, because she knew if Striker ever talked, her word outweighs his. An imp would be presumed to lie under any circumstance to bring down a royal. It’s the basic-ass class difference and racism that’s supposed to be so important.

- Stella keeps the throne due to Stolas’s untimely death, she gets to keep the money, she gets to keep the kid. She may not care about the kid, but Octavia has power regardless if Stella loves her or not. Octavia can marry into wealth, Octavia is more controllable than Stolas.

- Stella’s image is revered as a tragic princess whose husband was brutally murdered by an imp. She uses this to crack further down on imps and increases the advocation of their oppression. She remains on top.

-----

This isn’t me saying I want all of that to happen, I’m merely saying it because that’s what her motivations felt like they’d lead up to. That’s what she felt like as a villain. A vain, hardass who wanted to keep her image of a perfect family pristine and proper, while her screaming and abuse happened behind closed doors. She was sick of her husband, of being tied down by a spineless wimp, but his image to Hell was powerful so she put up with it and tore into him out of pure disappointment and hatred for where she ended up. I’m not defending her abuse, but I’m trying to give more depth than the disgusting “I like tormenting you” from s2e1 that basically all drove home from “my husband doesn’t fuck me well enough (because everything is about sex all the time), and he embarrassed me in front of my friends at tea time”.

There’s no depth for the torment she brings him. There’s no real panic or frustration or reason for what she does. There doesn’t have to be, abuse does not have to have a reason, but it is lazy when you praise your characters for being more complicated than they are. She does it because she was born evil and she enjoys making him suffer. That’s it. That’s her reasoning behind all of it. Not a fear of losing respect, not the drive to finally take control of her life, not her fury of Stolas risking everything they have for some lowborn cock. She honest to god would’ve probably been less pissed if he slept with somebody of higher status, somebody whose name actually meant something. It’d still be a scandal, but she could work with that sort of publicity.

The biggest issue is that the audience should not know about her before the protagonists do, even if that sort of trope can work if done well. The issue is, since the season is so short, and the episodes try to hamfist so much into each one in a desperate attempt to make up for lack of more episodes, they felt the need to reveal her in episode 5 when they really didn’t have to. That ending scene, while I do enjoy it because I like Striker as a concept, was played as a joke while trying to quickly revel in the fact Stella was behind it. The tonal dissonance between a pissed off boss finding out her employee failed the simplest task that she had planned on for presumably quite some time since it was an annual event Stella would know Stolas took part in, that was a lot of work she did only for it to fail. But of course, we apparently really needed to drive home that Stolas is such an idiot he doesn’t even notice his wife screaming about his planned murder right across the table from him, and that Stella is such an idiot she’d have that sort of call in front of her family in the first place. Because it’s just so funny when characters are stupid. It’s funny when we already know the characters are idiots - it’s not funny when we’re supposed to feel any sort of dread or worry or fear when villains are being villains.

If the audience had been teased at who it might be, but no canonical confirmation, it would have been such a massively better pay off when the audience received confirmation of something that’d merely be a theory at the time, especially if once we met Oz, he pointed out how stupid Stolas had been. It could’ve been written better with not a lot of dramatic change to the story, but they are blazing through suspense when they shouldn’t be.

Don’t look at this post and say I’m trying to defend her or her abuse, because genuinely I do not give a shit that she’s abusive, I give a shit that her one motive is being abusive because she was born that way + she enjoys being a monstrous bitch. You can make atrocious villains be bad for no reason, that’s not a bad thing. It’s a bad thing when you praise the villain for being so important and thought-invoking when in reality I could take a glance at her and tell you everything you need to know about her.

Also if we find out her brother is at fault for her behavior, jesus fucking christ I’m gonna be so done.

[asukamood]

Hello everyone! How are you doing?

Today is one of my friends’ birthday and since it’s a huge fan of Drueswap and Blue angst, I have decided to write that enormous 3291 words long of that (to give you a reference, most of the fics I posted here are between 2k and 2,3k long). The main idea of the plot doesn’t actually belong to me, for context, that same friend had told me about a Drue fic where Blue had barged into Dream’s office looking like a mess because he had just encountered somebody he did not want to see again and told me about how much it regret not being able to find it again.

Since it loved it so much, I’ve decided to write it the thing in my own style to compensate for its loss.

Enjoy the absolute chaos below those three stars.

(PS: There’s a kissing scene in this and I literally looked like a tomato while writing it, I am so weak :’)

PSS: I have checked the Drueswap tag every single day and not one new post appeared, am I the only existing Drue supply on Tumblr or are the others just not appearing for some reasons??)

Warnings: Physical abuse/violence, murder attempt without remorse, blood, several mental breakdowns, implied eating disorder (it’s really light) and heavy Blue angst.

***

It was late in the afternoon, probably around 2 PM. Although it was hard to tell because of the gloomy weather outside, plus, Dream was too focused on his paperwork to take a look at the watch on his wrist.

Water droplets crashed onto the windows behind him, regularly hitting the glass shield that silently screamed at each impact, the pain only manifested by the faint sound of bumping. In the chorus of the rain came the main vocals, the storm.

Blinding light flashed from time to time, illuminating briefly the cold room that was Dream’s office and casting shadows after being deviated by the imposing figure that was his body and desk. The light was only the face, the quiet partner that ran away in silence at an impressive speed.

The thunder roared after it, its voice reaching the ground and shaking it because of its sheer force. It was trying in vain to catch up to it, it was too slow and the lightning too fast.

That whole show had been going on for hours now and by the looks of it, the thunderstorm’s rage wasn’t going to lessen any time soon, in fact, it only seemed to grow bigger. Its irritated and icy cold breath blew at the trees outside which swayed in fear of being the Lightning’s next target as the light and thunder ran more frequently, screaming after one another in a deafening duet.

With that melancholic climate, most people would tremble with the trees. Some quite liked the sight of the Heavens’ tears racing against one another on their windows, others didn’t give it much thought and only found the noises mildly annoying when extended for too long.

Dream Von Licht just so happened to belong to that part of the population.

However, the continuation of the rain’s drum wasn’t what had him have his eyebrows furrowed or his left-hand tapping nervously on the wooden platform.

At one point, he finally gave in to the temptation and stopped his endless scribbling to glance at the time displayed on his watch.

It was 2 PM, or in other words, an hour after Blue’s usual appearance. Yet, the clock may continue to click its tongue, the man in blue has still yet to show up. To say that Dream was awaiting his arrival would be the truth a lie, while he didn’t mind his company, he didn’t need Blue to be here with him every week to function correctly.

The reason why he hasn’t shown up yet may be because of that pretty heavy rain outside. With weather like that, no one would want to drag themselves in the rain just to flirt with somebody, it made sense that he would rather spend the day at home doing something else like watching a TV show with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate upon his lips.

That reasoning was completely logical.

So why did he still feel like something was amiss here?

A frustrated groan escaped him. He picked his pen back up before he started writing swiftly on the paper again, trying to get his mind to focus on the task at hand instead of fretting over Blue’s whereabouts.

Just as his stiff shoulders finally began to relax, he heard on his side the sizzling of a glitchy portal opening. The bad feeling that has been haunting him for the past hour decided to explode at that moment, soul pounding with warnings.

Blue never used a portal to get here.

The portal appeared fast and dissipated just as quickly. Between the two instances, a humanoid creature had the time to throw itself at the winged man, who had the air knocked out of him because of how fast it jumped on him.

That creature was soon identified as Blue but instead of his usual flirty greeting, he only heard heavy breathing as the other held onto him as if his entire existence depended on him.

He was soaked from head to toe, his hair sticking onto his forehead like glue had been used to do that. Dream hesitantly brushed his nape, his skin felt as cold as ice yet his freezing temperature didn’t seem to be the reason why he was shaking like a leaf in the wind or why he was breathing so intensely.

“… Blue?” The politician had said that in a whisper but it still seemed to have broken something inside of the other who let out a heartbreaking sob once the name left his mouth.

As a result, the yoga teacher squeezed him even tighter, burying his face even deeper into his chest as he started to wail like an amputated animal. He couldn’t see much from this angle but on his now wet shirt and jacket, he had suddenly taken note of the presence of crimson stains on them. That was blood.

Moreover, some parts of his hoodie were missing and from the looks of it, they had been torn off by a sharp object, if the thin lines of blood flowing out of cuts were any indication of that.

Dream had no clue what he was supposed to do, it was the first time he had seen the other acting so… vulnerable and he has never been one for emotions, as ironic as it may seem.

After a few seconds, he decided to wrap his arms around him and let his hand rub comforting circles on his back, careful not to brush any of the open wounds on the sensitive skin. He whispered sweet nothings to him as well to try and calm him down.

With his current state, it was needed for Blue to be taken to the medical wing but this idea seemed like wishful thinking at the moment since the other was squeezing him so tightly he felt as if all blood circulation inside of his torso had stopped. He didn’t seem like he was going to let go of him any time soon either.

The rain got even more intense, the furious pattering of the rain shaking even the triple-glazed windows. This whole situation almost felt surreal, who knew Dream would one day have to struggle with comforting someone as unpredictable as Blue?

This whole ordeal had him wanting to chew on his nails to pass the time, he had no clue what he was supposed to do and was only observing himself say things like a lost child.

He was expecting Blue to feel even worse if he were to be truly honest, yet against his beliefs, he had managed to calm him down for his sobs to turn into quiet whimpers and sniffs. Or perhaps it could be because he had no more tears left to shed, this could be a possibility too.

One of Dream’s hands came up to pet the other’s hair, who leaned onto his touch while trying not to look at the blood he had put all over Dream’s clothes. He was already completely messed up both mentally and physically, there was no need for him to start throwing up what little he had eaten that day too.

“I’m going to take you to the medical wing. Is that okay?” Blue let out a tired hum, nodding. He slouched against Dream and then stopped moving, eyes gazing at the horizon. One of them was suspiciously glitching but Dream didn’t think much of it.

Blue was still hugging him but he could move around now, that was something at least. Dream then proceeded to hold him in a bridal style in order to make transportation easier, it’s not like he was going to walk all the way down to the medical wing but he still deemed that necessary. After all, you never know when he’ll have to run away because of something.

In a flick of wrist, they were both sitting on one of the medical wing’s beds. It was unusually silent here, there wasn’t any sound of hushed whispers coming from the doctors nor was there any sound of wincing and whining from patients. It was completely silent, save from Blue’s shaky breath.

Dream frowned, he had completely forgotten about most of the JR staff staying at home today because of the rather disadvantageous weather. The majority of people were unable to use teleportation so it made sense as to why they would want to take the day off in those conditions.

It still didn’t make him want to bang his head against the wall any less though.

Well, he didn’t have much of a choice now did he? He was going to have to take care of those himself. Thankfully though, none of his injuries looked to require any intensive medical treatment like operations or so, most of his cuts looked to be pretty superficial from the looks of it.

He got Blue off of his lap and managed to make him stop clinging onto him for a few with minimal complaint, but that changed when he tried to get up. The shaking man had grabbed Dream’s hand, a worried and anxious look on his face.

“Where are you going?” He asked, voice weak. Dream definitely did not like him feeling that way, he would rather go through a century of the latter making fun of him than seeing him look so frightened.

He turned in his direction, tracing a finger over the back of the other’s hand in hopes it would distract him from whatever demons were haunting him. “I’m just going to get the stuff needed to heal you, I’ll be back soon okay?” Blue’s eyebrows furrowed and his hand squeezed Dream’s even tighter. He didn’t seem to like the idea of staying alone there, even though the other would only be standing a few feet away.

A small sigh escaped him. “Blue, look at me.” Dream’s other hand found its way on Blue’s chin and his pointer lifted it to force the shorter man to look at him. The latter’s azure eyes went up to stare at the other’s golden eyes, unblinking.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, Dream looking like he was debating on his next action. That’s when his fingers left the other’s chin to cup his cheek instead, his face gradually inching closer to the latter’s.

Blue took three solid seconds to realize what was happening and by the time he processed the information, Dream’s lips were already on his. He yelped in surprise, the sound muffled by the kiss.

Dream traced a small circle on his cheek with his thumb, visibly about to stop there. Blue wasn’t having it though so he pulled him down by the collar, put his free hand on the other’s shoulder to keep him there and squeezed his eyes shut, continuing the kiss.

The taller one made a small noise of his own before he kissed back, only pulling away a few seconds later. Blue felt his face heat up, processing what they just did. It’s not like it was the first time they kissed, that event had occurred a couple of times already but somehow that one in particular felt… special.

The winged man turned away, his face having turned red himself. “I’m not going to leave, if that’s what you assumed.” He stated, trying not to let his flustered state influence the way he was talking. He was sure that if his voice wavered just a tiny bit, Blue would never let him live it down. “It won’t take long.”

With that, Dream turned on his heels and walked away, leaving a flustered Blue on the pristine white bed. At least the kiss had the intended effect, whatever had Blue so frightened was now off of his mind and would be for a few.

***

The thunder was still raging on but the couple didn’t seem to notice the rain furiously banging at the windows, way too preoccupied by what they were currently doing. The chestnut-haired one had claimed his place on the other’s lap the second he had come back and had refused to move ever since.

Both his soaked hoodie and shirt laid neatly folded on the nearest chair as his scarf stayed in his hands, Dream having failed to have him let go of it. He knew how important his scarf was to him so he didn’t try to insist any further, him accepting to take it off already being a miracle.

The blonde also had his jacket shed off in order to get the blood away from Blue, who was actively struggling to look away from his own wounds by focusing on the other. He let out a wince though when the tissue immersed in alcohol had touched a cut on his chest, he knew that disinfecting the wound was essential but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Sorry.” Dream apologized quietly, eyes still narrowed in concentration on the task at hand. Treating a wound wasn’t hard per say but when you were this close to the patient, it did become kinda hard. He had done a good job so far though, most of Blue’s wounds have effectively been covered and healed, his face even patched up too.

There were now only some minor ones left, injuries that could be dealt with in a few seconds from now.

Once the final cut was treated, Dream let out a sigh, fixing his posture once more. “There we go, all fixed.” Blue waited until Dream had put down all the bandages and stuff before wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him down so their faces were barely inches apart.

“Angel,” He whined, looking up at Dream with sad puppy eyes. “I’ve been dying the entire duration of that!” He slumped against Dream with a pout before smiling up at him with an innocent face. “Can I get a kiss reward for not making too much noise?”

Dream hummed, feigning thinking about it. “Maybe after a nice shower will that be possible.”

“Together?” He dead panned at him, pretending like his face wasn’t turning pink.

"No. Obviously separately.” He unwrapped the arms around him before standing up, dragging Blue with him and opening a portal. “You can go first, I’ll take what we left there back.”

The other nodded, soon disappearing into the warm golden rift.

***

Blue definitely felt way better now that he took a shower and was basking in the warmth of Dream’s clothes because yes, he let him borrow his clothes this one time. He buried his nose into the fabric, enjoying how the scent of vanilla immediately filled his nozzle.

He let out a pleased breath, before his mood suddenly took a whole 180°C remembering what happened for him to be in that position right now. Before he could dwell any further into it, he heard the lock of the bathroom door click before it swung open, revealing a Dream in a way more comfortable outfit than what he was usually seen wearing.

Blue forced a smile on his face, extending his hands into his direction.

Dream smiled back, walking towards him as requested before he was pulled down into a cuddle. As a response, he only wrapped his arms around him, petting his hair softly. Blue let himself relax into his embrace, repeating in his head that he was with Dream, that he was safe now in hopes he’ll finally believe it.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, silence only broken by the sounds of Blue’s soft breathing and the occasional friction of tissues when one of them would move a leg or something like that.

“Blue?” Dream suddenly called out to him, looking down at him briefly. “Can I ask you something?”

The latter blinked, shifting so their eyes met. He nuzzled into the other’s neck, already having a feeling on what he was going to ask. “Sure, go ahead.” He managed to let out in a casual voice, even though his mind was a complete mess on its own.

“What happened before you went through your portal?” There it was. Blue took a sharp breath, clinging onto Dream’s shirt tightly.

“… It’s a long story.” He eventually said, face still pressed against Dream’s neck. “Before I reply, may I ask some favors out of you?” Dream nodded, now his other hand intertwined with the other’s.

“First, I would like you not to tell anyone else about what I’m going to tell you.” As he spoke, Blue briefly wondered if it was actually a good idea to talk about it to Dream. But then again, it was now obvious that he wasn’t safe almost anywhere and talking about it might help him not only feel better about it but also get rid of the problem in the future.

Dream nodded at that, showing he agreed to the first condition.

“And then…” He paused. “I would like to move in with you, at least for the time being.” Dream froze, his petting halting for a moment.

“You don’t have to decide now.” Blue continued speaking, avoiding looking at his partner. “I’ll let you make up your mind after I tell you what I have to tell.”

That’s when he began counting his story, telling Dream about his childhood and how the man called his brother had made his life completely hell as the latter rubbed comforting patterns on his hand, on his arm, on his leg and pretty much anywhere he could reach while at the same time squeezing his hand in support. Those little touches definitely helped him feel more comfortable telling his story and confirmed that he was, in fact, down bad for the man since any time he changed his rubbing spot, he would blush, interrupting what he was saying with a little stutter.

If Dream had noticed, he didn’t show it. He has simply been patiently waiting for the other to finish his story, visibly holding back a string of curses at several points in the story.

Then he debuted the part of the universe collapsing, and how he pushed his brother off the cliff.

“I was convinced that I killed him.” He confessed, snuggling even closer to Dream. “I saw him disappear into the void and for me, that was the end of it all. I didn’t feel any regret when I did it whether it be during or after the act.”

One would think Dream would have said something about that confession but he believed in justified murder and that one ticked all the boxes for him, if he were the one who caught him, he would have been executed anyway. Parasites like him had no place to keep in that multiverse.

“But then…” Blue swallowed, already feeling the tears gathering in his eyes. He felt one of Dream’s golden wings wrap itself around his waist, tickling his legs and he let out a sigh. It was so soft.

“But then,” He retried with a shaky voice. “I found him waiting for me at my house. As to what happened next… well I think you can guess.”

The second those words left his mouth, he broke into sobs again. As an answer, the blond man hugged him tightly, peppering his face with kisses.

“It was very brave of you to talk about it with me, thank you for that.” Blue let out a hiccup, burying his face into his shoulder. “As for him, I’ll do my best so he never hurts you again.” His eyes narrowed, the light inside of them fizzling out for a brief moment.

“But for now, let’s go to sleep. How does that sound?” With that, they both fell asleep, cuddling so much they looked like a mess of limbs from an outside perspective.

[nectardaddy]

hii im your new follower n i just want to say that i really really love ur writings!! i just read shoyo's fic, i love it when writers put their actual experience into their fics! 🥹💓 n its a different type of euphoria when i actually can see myself as the reader/seeing a resemblance to me (i work with kids under 12 yo, but weekly not daily, so not as rough as yours 😵‍💫). i hope ur students always love you n enjoy ur teachings, n may u get the best sleep always!

i want to say more but i suck at english so 🫠 also u dont have to reply to this! i just want to let u know, heh

OH I'LL CRY RN THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

also don't downplay your hard work!!! kids under 12 are FERAL (trust me I know lol) so I know you're busting your ass for them! and for the most part my students do love my teaching (not to sound vain lol) but teaching truly is being a court jester and jingling around long enough to keep them entertained LMAO

MAY YOU HAVE THE BEST SLEEP ALWAYS AS WELL!! THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH!!

[the-hype-dragon]

Books I read in April

I started the month strong but an unfortunate decision put me into a bit of a reading slump about halfway through.

Turtle Moon by Alice Hoffman - 4/5

It was a weird book, felt kind of like it ran on David Lynch logic but that's not a bad thing imo. Sort of a coming of age story for a young boy, his divorced mom, and a cop (yes, for all three of them). The divorced mom and her son have a strained relationship and they don't reconcile by the end, but neither is really portrayed as being wrong for doing this. I kind of liked that. The whole book is full of messy relationships like this. I ended up really enjoying it, definite recommend.

The Tombs of Atuan by Ursula K. Le Guin - 4/5

I never read the Earthsea books as a kid and the first time I tried to read A Wizard of Earthsea, I kind of hated it lmao. So I just decided to go ahead and read this. Luckily you don't really need to have read AWoE to understand what's going on here, this book is all about Tenar. This is the sort of fantasy I like, the worldbuilding is excellent and very rarely dipped into the "show and tell" kind of thing I see (and hate) in a lot of fantasy fiction. I also liked that in spite of being a book for younger readers Le Guin does not condescend to the audience. This was her usual dry kind of prose, and the characterizations were for the most part relatively nuanced for how short the book is.

Sabriel by Garth Nix (reread) - 2/5

This was it, this was the unfortunate decision. I feel really bad saying this because I like Garth Nix's books, but Sabriel isn't very good. (I first read it when I was in middle school and am 99% sure I felt the same way back then.) It has interesting concepts that you don't see much of in YA lit but the fact that the protagonist is a female necromancer is literally the only outstanding thing about it. Otherwise it's a pretty standard heroic fantasy tale of a paragon of good defeating a dark lord, with a mysterious mentor figure and secret prince and everything. Fine for older teens imo but boring for adults. My least favorite thing about it was for being ostensibly about Sabriel, it really focused more on the male characters... which is a complaint I have about a lot of fantasy fiction in general, that's a rant for another time lmao.

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle (reread) - 4/5

I am a little biased because this was adapted into one of my absolute favorite movies lmao but I really like this book and think everyone should give it a chance. It's interesting because it's a fairly standard narrative with nonstandard characters: the protagonist is a unicorn, her magical companion is a (goodhearted but vain) buffoon, the voice of reason is a cynical peasant woman everyone dismisses out of hand, and the prince's romance with the unicorn in the second half is tragic not because they cannot be together, but because the world would be worse off for her fully becoming a human and loving him. Unfortunately, while the story itself is great, the writing is sometimes not great: every good simile Beagle came up with is matched by one that is silly and distracting. But I don't think that detracts too much from the story.

I also started but did not finish Tehanu (Le Guin) and Sabriel's sequel Lirael (Nix), and I'm not sure I'll finish either in May. Tehanu is written well but was dealing with too many heavy topics all at once for my tastes (I do not mind reading books with heavy topics but I have to be in the right mood for it), and Lirael is better written than Sabriel but far more whimsical and I think suffers for it. That said I don't think either book is bad but I didn't read enough of either to have a whole opinion of them lmao

And anyway that was how my April went :v

[kariannasjamaicanlitblog]

i Week 11 Blog i

This week in “How to say babylon by Safiya Sinclair” I read pages 320 to 344 and I believe the most important sentence/ quote of this week’s reading that can be found on page 320 and is “Bringing myself to a boil by the portable heater, I begin to work, trying in vain to weave the mother lore. I try to write down my memories but still, he kills me in the night.”

I believe this is the most important quote of the week because it shows one of the things not many artist talk about when growing up in a strict/toxic household. The harsh truths behind not being able to talk about what’s bothering you and why u feel the way you do. Even though she knows her parents love her sometimes it is really difficult to believe that when they are so careless with her feelings. in that page Safiya was struggling with her emotions and struggling trying not to explode so she wrote down her good memories in her journal and thought about what’s to come. Although the bad or worse memories taint some of her good ones especially the ones of her father and all the terrible things he would do to her and her family, But she sits there and desperately writes in her little book.

This book shows the reality and harsh truths of what it’s like growing up in certain households and situations. It shows the great family times and all of the harder times behind closed doors. I relate to this book in more ways then one although that may not always be comforting i have really enjoyed reading it because it’s a lot more gruesome then most books and i wish more books were more honest about tougher upcomings.

(300)

[anthonyed]

Kissing prompts (gosh, i love em all): 45 and buckytony?

The only thing that came into my mind when I read the prompt was: 'losing you would be my villain story' trope. So remember that ficlet where Tony was scared to hug Bucky cause he won't be able to let go? Well this is from that verse. And  I tried my best to execute it (don't know if I succeeded) and here it is:

idk how part of my reply got injected into the ask box but the link in there is click-able for the verse of the following story.

(from this list: Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.)

tw: blood, violence, mentions of body mutilation (basically a decapitated head that’s all)

-//-

Bucky’s already in the cradle when he lands; still clad in armour from neck down and he heads straight to where Helen Cho stands, manning the machine. 

“Talk to me.” He orders, not bothering with manners, voice still battle-strained and he’d apologize to her later, buy her a bouquet or something but for now -

“How is he?”

Cho looks ill when she smiles, mouth working around dull words; if she was going for reassurance, it sure looks terrible on her face. 

“Pending on the prognosis. Multiple organ laceration; I just drained his pericardial sac and stabilised his heart -,”

Tony grabs her by the shoulders, he doesn’t want to hear what more medical words she has to throw on him. He says what he needs her to do: “Save him.”

She opens her mouth, and he can already hear bullshit coming forth, “I can’t guarantee you anything at this point. I’m doing my part, his body is doing it’s -,” she wavers, her lashes flutter and then something shifts in her. 

“Mr Stark. You have to understand -,” she starts in a practiced cold tone and Tony, he cannot deal with this now.

Gauntleted fingers dig into her lab-coat clad frame, and he shakes her once before they’re quickly intercepted. 

Natasha’s cool gaze is fixed on him steadily even if she’s holding onto Helen Cho, six feet away from him. There’s someone arresting his arms from behind but he doesn’t care who, doesn’t put up a fight; that’s not why he’s here.

He needs Cho to know her priority. “I don’t care what it costs.” he looks into her eyes and tells her. This is between them and they both know what he means; there’s a vial of perfected extremis in the vault behind the wall. “I need you to save him. Do you understand?”

Helen Cho blinks, comprehension dawning upon her before she suddenly looks sick; lips pressed tight like she’s holding back her words from him. Good, Tony doesn’t want to hear her preach ethical violation to him. But he keeps looking at her until she agrees; because she has to. She has to know that he needs Bucky alive. No bargains in that matter.

Finally, she nods, quickly once. “I’ll do my best.”

And Tony leaves her to it, putting all his trust on her and he doesn’t wait. He has somewhere else to be. He shakes off the hands holding him back, and it’s Steve; his voice echoes his march; a pleading cry of “Tony, don’t!” 

-

Two hours later, he’s standing on the rubbles of what a HYDRA’s bunker used to be. The fat plop of dripping blood onto a blown out wooden plank under his feet slowly stirs him back to reality; wiping his vision off of its angry red and he computes the extent of the damage he’d done with a strange detachment.

For a minute, he stares at his right hand where the blood is dripping from; relaxed in posture, gauntlet still on, fingers fisting around a clump of hair from a decapitated head of someone whose face he recognized flashing on his HUD earlier that day. When he scanned for the bastard who fired that lethal shot. 

Good, he thinks. Good riddance.

His right palm whirs, flashing warning in blue and the satisfaction from blowing that head is -

He pulls in a breath and looks skyward. Directs energy into his thrusters and he flies to another bunker.

-

And another.

-

Three days after, he plugs in the armour to charge in a shitty hotel and stares at himself in the mirror; blank face, shirtless with a bloody abdomen and a bruised shoulder. 

They should have captured him long ago, he realises. He’s been going rogue all on his own, disconnected himself from the team and Rhodey and Pepper and he knows for sure that he’s breaking more law than he’d memorised twenty years ago. Somebody should have caught him; HYDRA or someone from WSC. Maybe even one of his teammates.

And yet here he is, still a free man, staining borrowed towels red from his first flesh wound since he started this vengeance streak.   

Somehow, that just fuels him to keep going.

-

Steve finds him underground in Kazimierz and he isn’t even surprised.

“I was wondering when you’d come,” he says, ready to fight, expecting an arrest. 

Steve, however, looks at him all pinched and that is even worse. Tony wants to tell him, no. Don’t show me that face. But he doesn’t have to because that look vanishes soon after and Steve nods tightly.

“If you’re doing this,” he says, “I’m coming with you.”

-

In retrospect, maybe Steve follows to keep him in line; if they catch someone alive, he’d say, “Let me deal,” and Tony lets him. He’d already destroyed the guy responsible, here forth if Steve wants to play saint and ease their death, he can go ahead and do it. Tony doesn’t care.

-

Two days later, he finds out what actually Steve wants. Catches Tony numb in the process of washing dirt and the inside of someone’s cheek - from when he’d hooked his fingers too deep - under his fingernails when Steve leans against the bathroom door and says,

“Come home, Tony.”

He turns off the tap and wipes his hands dry with a towel. There’s still something under his fingernails, unwashed, but he ignores that to ask Steve, “Is he awake?” 

Steve couldn’t give him a straight answer so, Tony chucks the towel on the counter, walks past him into the room they're sharing for the night and nods at the bathroom when Steve turns to look at him. “It’s all yours now. Unless you’re leaving, then I suppose you’d prefer to shower at home.”

He tears open the bag of chips, guzzles down two bottles of water before he shoves a handful of bland chips into his mouth. He knows Steve’s still looking, but he avoids his gaze, anyway. Keeps shoving more chips into his mouth even though he’s close to choking and only when he hears the bathroom door close, he stops.

-

They burn the fifth centre to the ground and leave to Chukotsky District for the sixth.

They share a room in another motel that night, vodka warming their insides and Tony shares a piece of him with Steve. 

“I get it now.” He tells him, eyes burning as he stares at his bare feet intensely.

“What?”

Blinking hard, he empties his plastic cup down his throat and looks up. “Why you’d kill for him,” he smirks. Not an ounce of feeling under his skin. 

Steve’s eyes flicker in the dim orange light. He says, “Not for the same reason as yours, no,” and he looks like he got something more to say following that. But whatever it is, Tony doesn’t hear it. 

-

The next morning, he wakes up to Natasha at the foot of his bed, Steve still fast asleep in his own.

She rubs a thumb on the inside of his ankle and joins them for the last bunker. 

“Come home,” she says later, wiping a bloody dagger in the inside of her left sleeve, watching grey clouds burst into the white sky next to Tony and she tells him, “He’s awake, you know. Asking for you.”

-

He’s stuffing clothes into his duffel bag, but hesitates when he’s about to pull the zipper. Not far from him, Steve pauses in rolling his socks. Natasha offs the TV; they’re watching him - both of them - have been watching him since they returned from that bunker.

Tony’s hands shake, and he buries one in his hair. “I’m not coming,” he tells them.

“Why?” Natasha cocks her head curiously. 

Steve plops heavily down on his bed. Its frame creaks. “Tony,” he begins, but Natasha’s fluid movement from the foot of his bed to Tony’s side, stops him. 

Tony’s knees buckle and when he sinks, she goes down with him; leans her head on his shoulder, drapes an arm over and she fills his sense with sweet strawberry smell while Steve looks wearily from across him. 

Tony keeps his eyes fixed on him, his thoughts on the sweet taste of Natasha’s scent on his tongue and he says, “He almost died because of me.”

Steve frowns, scrunching the socks into a ball in his hands, and he corrects Tony stiffly, “He took the hit for you. It was his choice.” 

“Well, he shouldn’t have!” Tony yells.

Natasha’s hand is soft on his cheek when she turns him around to face her. “You would have done the same,” she murmurs, levelled and calm, close to his ear. 

Steve’s jaw is clenched hard, but his words are soft. “We protect what we love, Tony.”

Blinking back hot tears, Tony looks away from both of them and grits out, “He’s an idiot.”

Steve snorts. Natasha presses a smile into his temple, and she suggests, “Maybe he’d like to hear that from you.”

-

Returning home after a week and a half should feel relieving but all he could think is about Bucky and the last time he saw him; bloody in his arms in Central Park and then lifeless in the cradle, and he couldn’t help the anxiety that boils from his chest to the back of his throat. 

That in itself buries his desire to check on Bucky, see for himself how he’s doing; make sure he’s all right.

“I’ve got to answer Pepper,” he blurts out, already stepping away from them; separating himself, and Natasha’s frown and Steve’s disappointed gaze accompanies him all the way to the workshop where he collapses on the couch.

“How’s he doing?” He asks into the throw pillow that smells like Bucky. “Friday?”

“Sergeant Barnes is healing well, boss. Although, he’d do better if he sees you.”

Bullshit. He doesn’t tell her.

“Did Dr Cho use the extremis?” He asks instead, pulse bursting through his arteries. 

When Friday says, “No, boss. There was no need for that,” he buries his head into the pillow and breathes Bucky in deeply; relief spreading like a balm under his breastbones.

“But boss,” Friday carries on, “Sergeant Barnes asked for you.” 

Before she could say more about that, he promptly mutes her.

-

Maybe he’s a coward. Maybe he’s afraid if he sees Bucky, he’d be accused to be the cause of his near death experience.

Or maybe he’s terrified when he asks why did you do that, Bucky would look at him like he’s an idiot, and say, “Because I love you, that’s why.” and Tony -

Tony knows he couldn’t handle hearing that. His heart would shatter into a million pieces.

So, maybe he’s a coward. Maybe what he’s really afraid of is breaking his own heart - call it a primitive reaction. He is a primate in DNA after all.

-

“Boss, Miss Potts is asking for you.”

“Tell her I’m busy inventing something that could triple her paycheck.”

“Boss.”

“What?”

“Sergent Barn-,”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, but he’s asking for -,”

“Mute.”

-

Maybe he’s running away.

And maybe he’s bad at it.

-

“Jesus.” he jumps, well past midnight, a few days after he’d returned, in the penthouse kitchen, in the middle of his supply raid (because Pepper pulled her rights and cut direct deliveries to the shop).

He’d calculated the risk, knew there was a 95% chance of him being caught by the very person he’s running away from. That’s why he’d planned his approach, carefully ran over it multiple times, asked Friday over and over to make sure no one was in the kitchen.

Should have counted in the fact that his AI is in love with her Sargeant Barnes.

The same Sargeant who asks calmly, “Any reasons you’ve been avoiding me?”

Tony clears his throat, drops his hand from where he’d clutched his chest. “Not in particular," he tries for nonchalance.

He didn’t turn on the light, but the silver glint of Bucky’s metal arm is unmistakable; tracing trajectory motion of his leap from the countertop to in front of Tony, infusing heat from their sudden proximity.

“I wanted to see you,” Bucky says, eerily flat, head tilted sideways as his blue-grey eyes study Tony from top to bottom then up. “But you refused.”

Throat clamping around a lump, Tony looks down at his empty coffee mug. At their bare feet and then at the cold tiles they’re standing on. He avoids the topic. “How are you doing?” He asks instead, looking up with false cheeriness. 

Bucky doesn't hesitate before he answers, “Better if I’d seen you.”

And Tony has to laugh at that. Jesus Christ, just how stupidly cheesy is this guy? Except he feels his cheeks warm, and he steps aside to get away with an airy, “Well now that you have, I hope you feel better.”

Bucky doesn't let him (of course he doesn't); blocks his path and his gaze bore into Tony when their eyes meet. Trying to pry something only he knows what and Tony, exhausted after two consecutive sleepless nights, lets him. 

If not for an excuse to allow himself drink in the sight of the man who took a laser to his chest for him and almost died. The man he'd lost his sanity for, killed for and then ran away from because he is a coward. 

His eyes fall on the lower left side of Bucky’s pectoral. If he looks harder, he thinks he could see a dark patch seeping inside out like spreading ivy. He shakes his head to clear his vision.

Bucky seems to read him well. He takes the mug away and catches his empty hand before bringing it to his chest. Then he places it over exactly where that wound had been last week; bleeding viscous blood all over them and when Tony looks up at him, desperate and scared like he was that day, he assures, “I’m fine. Still alive.”

And then, “C’mere,” he tugs. Pulling Tony closer, pressing his palm harder over his shirt clad chest; warm where they touch, and he asks, “Can you feel that? It’s still beating in there.”

And it is - His heart is. All healed and pumping serum tainted blood through his vessels; keeping him alive like he hadn’t been gasping for breath in Tony’s lap just last week. 

“Fuck.” Tony exhales.

Bucky takes it as a cue to pull him into his chest. Wraps him tight in a hug, and he buries his nose in Tony’s hair. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Tony tries to inhale but ends up choking on air. 

“I know.” Bucky repeats. Pressing lips to his forehead and then temple.

When he finds his voice, Tony fists the fabric overlying his left breast, head buried in warmth and he lets out a pained growl. “Don’t ever do that again.”

But Bucky, of all things, chuckles like he'd just heard a joke. “Can’t promise that, doll,” He drawls, grinning like the idiot he is. “If it happens another time, I’ll do the same thing all over again. Gotta protect my best fella,” he winks.

And it drives Tony so mad that he shoves at the man's chest and glares at him, venomous. Fingers shaking in clenched fists, locked inside white knuckles and he spits, “Fuck you.” At Bucky.

For a second, Bucky’s stunned. But something flashes in his eyes and he barks out a laugh soon after. 

"Yeah," he snorts. “Kid you not, I would really like you to.” 

And that - That shocks Tony into a stop; eyes blinking wide with disbelief, he stares at the man in front of him. 

“What?” Bucky laughs, fingers raking through his long hair as he shakes his head and when he looks up again, whatever he sees in Tony, it makes him square up, and he exhales in a rush. 

“Jesus, Tony. Don’t tell me you still don’t know how I feel about you. Choked on my blood and all I could do was look at you like you hung the moon - I saw that footage. The one they aired in the news? Sam showed me that thing, and Hell. The whole world saw how I feel for you baby, and you’re standing here looking at me like you got no clue."

He closes in then, urgent, and he catches Tony’s head in both hands; cradles his face like something precious and leans down to look into Tony's eyes.  

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart," he pleads. “Tell me you know how you make me feel. Tell me you know, I’m yours.”

And Tony, refusing to be shaken in the face of hopeful eyes and gentle hands - one ice cold while the other blood warm - grabs the back of Bucky’s head in a harsh fist and asks him roughly, “And you? Do you know how I feel about you?”

Bucky blinks then, a slow smile spreads across his face, eyes twinkling with sadistic joy and he grins, “Stevie told me what you did. Said you didn’t spare even one.”

“All of them,” Tony breathes, lungs blooming fresh with the smell of Bucky this close, this warm and he could taste his scent on his tongue with every breath he takes. 

Shivering, he glides his hand from Bucky's nape to the side of his neck, and he yanks him close until their foreheads press. “They can’t touch you now," he whispers into the small space in between them.

“Jesus, doll.” Bucky chuckles, dry and rough, palms pressing into Tony’s cheek, tilting his face up so their breaths intermingle and their noses bump, and the first brush of their skin that near is electrifying. Like stepping on a live wire; sizzling straight into the veins under their skins and it propels them to mash their mouths together in a desperate kiss. 

Giddy as they are with something vile and raw, they didn't care if their teeth clashed in the rush; painful and sharp, or if their kisses were too messy and wet. Their heads are too heady with the taste of their love and they feed it into each other’s mouths, drink it out of them and fuck - They laugh through it all. 

At one point, Tony yanks at Bucky's hair and hums, pressing harder in and Bucky presses equally hard in return. Neither wanting to give; only take, take and take until there’s nothing left and then more.

And they're greedy for contact, starving for each other. Trembling with wants so violent that it bursts through their pores; spilling like white hot lava, burning everywhere their skin touch and maybe they knock several furniture over -Tony doesn’t know for sure. 

He’s too busy getting lost in Bucky and the biting way he kisses, the unforgiving way he squeezes Tony’s ass. Too busy pulling him by the collar, fingers fisting in his hair as he nips back harder, hissing and groaning ‘bedroom’ into Bucky’s mouth, and ‘this way’ as they stumble across the living room, stubbing toes on coffee tables and chairs, stopping to wince and laugh before resuming kissing even more passionately than before. 

Eventually, after they knock over a vase and watch it break into thousand pieces, Bucky hoists him up and walks them to the bed, and it may be emasculating if he was in a different state of mind. But right then, head spinning from Bucky and only Bucky everywhere, Tony lets him have it. 

-

Later, he watches the sun spill over Bucky’s closed eyes, spread from his sleep-slack face to his naked torso and sheet tangled legs and he reaches out a hand to press it over Bucky’s left pectoral. 

Focuses in on the steady beat behind the ribs, listens to the sound of Bucky’s heart work its job; pumping life into his bones and eyes, and spreading pink to his lips and occasionally - like last night - blotting that lovely shade of red from his face to his neck and - 

It’s staggering how close he’d come to lose that; how close Tony had come to lose his mind with that.

Hours earlier, with kiss-swollen lips and sex mussed hair, Bucky had kissed every one of his fingertip and whispered, “Turned you into a murderer didn’t I?”

Tony had combed his falling fringe back with his free hand and easily admitted that, “Losing you would evidently serve to be my villain story. No doubt in that.”

Right now though, feeling Bucky more than alive under his palm, Tony tips his slack jaw close and kisses him good morning.

[macabrecake]

𝘋𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴

➛ Pairing: RE6! Leon S. Kennedy x Female! Reader

➛ Genre: Smut with a nice helping of fluff

➛ Rating: Mature

➛ Note: Ok so it's a fact that I am an absolute SLUT when it comes to RE6 Leon. If you didn't know that already then you're gonna learn now, this is basically just pure self-indulgence. Also, first smut writing! May be too obvious so be warned- I tried. Enjoy!

(And of course. For the love of God- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I WILL TELL YOUR PARENTS. GO PLAY OUTSIDE, THE ADULTS ARE TALKING.)

Leon Scott Kennedy knew he was capable of pulling off certain appearances. Not in a vain way of course, but more so in a sense where he could stare into a mirror and just think- 'Yeah, that looks pretty good.' He never realized however...

What kind of power he had over you.

Especially when he wore clothes that accentuated certain attributes. Like how vests really compliment his shoulders for example. It's definitely something for his ego to feed on from time to time, and satisfy his curiosity. It's also just an excuse for him to see you like this. Completely bare and oh so needy for him. The skin of your neck, currently bouncing breasts, and collarbone covered in pretty shades of red, purple, and pink.

Tear filled eyes, hazy and staring at him with a silent plea that your lips couldn't give without biting back all the moans and cries of his name. Mixing together with the hot squelching sounds of his dick slamming back in and stretching you so good your mind was lost. A beautiful piece of art he would say.

"Ah! Leon! T-Too much!" You manage to whine out when he delivers another slow but rough thrust into your sopping, wet cunt. Legs already shaking from three previous releases and already so full of his cum. Damn the stamina on this man. You're absolutely spent but unable to get away from the bruising grip he had on your soft hips, trapping you there. Now he was deciding to be a little mean to you- Keeping that slow rhythm going while one hand sneaks away to let his fingers expertly toy and massage your swollen clit. Never enough to give you a proper orgasm but just the right amount to keep you suspended on that heavenly little thread.

It had you practically wailing before clasping a hand over your mouth to be quiet as your gaze soon ends up shying away from him. You couldn't help yourself, the way he deeply groans and pants while those sterling blue eyes stared down at you with such intense hunger as he towers over your small frame. Leaving you utterly helpless and completely at his mercy. You're always so shy, even in the comfort of your shared bedroom. He finds it endearing and has ended up turning it into a small game with himself to make you loud just so he can listen to you. He wants to hear you.

A low breathy chuckle resonates from the agent as he leans down to gently bump his nose with yours, hand moving away from your little bud to uncover your mouth, "I'm sorry Sweetheart, did you say something? Don't think I heard you that time." He whispers teasingly, flashing a smug smile when he sees your head fall back with a sigh from him hitting a particularly delicate spot inside you. "Leon, ah! Please... Mmh- need you." You quietly beg when your own eyes find his again. You're so desperate, gripping his shoulder and even holding onto his tie in a feeble attempt to keep yourself grounded. It's plain to see however, the way his gaze holds that mischievous glimmer, you're not gonna get it that easily.

"I know baby, I'll give you what you want. But you haven't even complimented my new outfit yet." Leon speaks huskily, a light mockery of sadness in his tone but a cheeky little smirk now adorning his handsome features. Because of fucking course he's not quite done teasing you just yet. "Mmh- fuck! So good! Ah... S-Sexy." You whimper. There it is, Leon let's out a thoughtful hum while his eyes gleefully take in your flustered state. Before finally deciding that you've been teased long enough, and that maybe he was starting to get a little impatient as well. Moving to lightly place his lips on your neck, feeling your pulse flutter, as he growls into the flesh. "You're sexier."

Suddenly, all of Leon's restraint is gone. His arms move to coil around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible while he drills his heavy cock into you at an animalistic pace. You cry out with a hitched gasp and immediately cling to him as if your life depends on it. That sultry voice of his, strained with need, soon finds your ears after he lightly nips at one of them. "Always so nice and tight... Fuck, baby... Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

God, the way those words drip from his plush lips like sinful honey. How could such a devilish tongue like that belong to the most angelic face? It's almost blasphemous. He knows what praise does to you too- feels it in how you lightly shudder as your warm, squishy walls tighten around him more. You're so close. Quiet squeals tumble from your lips, trying to find some sense of speech again to tell him you're not gonna last much longer, "Mh! Leon please, I- ah! I c-can't!" The response you get is another soft laugh while he moves to rest his forehead against yours, then a whisper.

"Open your eyes Sunshine.~"

Slowly, your eyes flutter open. Finding Leon already peering back at you, gaze full of nothing but pure lust and adoration. "Gonna cum for me?" He asks, tone still hushed, causing you to frantically nod. And seeing how sloppy his thrusts were getting, he's not that far behind you either. Thick fingers snake down to your, consensually, abused little pearl where he begins to quickly rub it in circular motions. "Do it baby..." Leon snarls, "Make a mess."

With how his voice dances down your spine to light up every nerve ending like electricity, and the quickened rough ministrations he adds. It does the trick. You're instantly cumming hard around him with a cry of his name as if it's the only word you ever learned. Finally with a few more powerful thrusts, and simply watching you blissfully fall to pieces for only his eyes alone to see. Leon allows himself to give into his own high as he buries his cock deep within you, letting out a groan of satisfaction against the skin of your neck while his thick creamy ropes fill you up and over the brim. A soft whine escapes your lips, completely stuffed now.

After that, a warm comfortable silence settles amongst your shared quiet panting. Both of you slowly coming down from your high, only to find Leon peppering your face with light kisses before planting one on your lips. Being so gentle as if you were made of the most fragile glass. Like he didn't just thoroughly fuck your brains out. You giggle, more than happy to return it and feeling his smile grow bigger. Even adding a couple more light ones to his right cheek- right on the scar he received in Spain all those years ago. "This really does look nice on you." You whisper while his tie lightly twirls around your fingers. The golden blonde pauses his soft lazy kisses he was placing on the collection of messy marks he left in your skin, snickering. "Glad you like it."

However, a late realization strikes you, "Weren't you going to wear this to a meeting today?" You feel him pause, then his hot breath fans over the crook of your neck as he sighs with a low, "Damn it." You're unable to stop the small laugh that escapes as you remove your limbs from him so he could get up.

Leon moves away, slowly pulling out of you, before stopping. The sight of your juices and his cum leaking out of your spent hole onto the bedsheets was suddenly far too enticing to step away from. "Maybe, but..." He begins lowly, eyes darkening and bottom lip pulled between his teeth into that little smirk as he rubs his thumb from your entrance to your clit. Making your body jolt with overstimulation as a soft gasp escapes you. Quickly your gaze finds his while he continues to smear the mess all over your inner thighs.

"I think this meeting needs my full attention."

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Heyyy I’m back again, may I please have Ei, xiao, and venti again with a reader who’s the prettiest in all of teyvat, they always are getting asked out but their just like sorry my heart only belongs to the [yakisha\Archon]! I love your writing <3

Reader rejecting others for them

characters: Xiao/Keqing/Venti/Ei x gn!reader (seperate)

warnings: english isn't my first language so there might be some errors

a/n: I decided to add Keqing to the roster since I had an idea which I think suited her, so I hope you have nothing against it. I'll probably won't write for the men for a little bit of time now, since my blog is mostly dedicated to the genshin women, but I think it turned out pretty alright.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Xiao

Since you were a little child it was clear that you had won the jackpot in the genetic lottery and with every year you walked through the streets of Liyue it became more and more obvious. But as stupid as it may sound for others, you thought of it as more curse than blessing. While there certainly weren’t many others that were as popular as you, none of your companions could be seen as friends. People didn’t care about who you were and what you liked, only focussing on your looks which made confessions an almost hourly event and seeing the disappointment in peoples eyes when you rejected them didn’t help your mood.

That was until you finally had enough and decided to run away from Liyue, only to be ambushed by a horde of Hilichurls. But instead of getting killed like you had already expected would happen to you, a mysterious figure saved your live.

“Thank you so much”, you said while sitting with your knees near your chest. While you despised crying in front of others, the whole situation made it hard not to. And when you finally lost your fight against you emotions and started bailing your eyes out, you quickly looked up only to see that your saviour was still standing there, staring at you confused.

Knowing that he probably was a yaksha and thus not from Liyue you started ranting about your whole situation through your tears, until you heard him let out a sigh.

“You are human, at that seemingly not really skilled at defending yourself. You should return to the city”, he tried reasoning with logic. Only to quickly realise that it had no effect. When your rambling continued he finally cut you off one last time.

“Fine. Go back to Liyue or wherever you come from and when you find yourself having enough, come to Wangshu Inn. You can find me on the top floor. Or don’t do that, I don’t care”, he said. Even though he sounded mostly annoyed, you could swear you hear a little bit of compassion in his tone.

You decided to follow his advice and returned to Liyue. And every time it would get too much for you, you simply visited Wangshu Inn and met the adeptus Xiao. Your talks started out awkward, but he treated you like a normal human. And with every time you two met, you could feel getting closer to him. Until you would reject every confession without telling any lies and instead chose to say the truth.

Keqing

“I’m sorry, but my heart only belongs to the adeptus Xiao.”

There probably wasn’t a single person in Liyue you couldn’t get. That was something you were proven many times. For most people you didn’t even have to do anything, since your looks caused them to confess completely by them selves. So when you visited a friend of yours which was one of the Liyue Qixing in his office and met the beautiful, purple haired Yuheng you immediately went to talk to her, only to get ignored in favour of work. At first you thought it was her just simply being in work mode, but after trying to talk to her again in public you realised, that she was absolutely not interested.

It hurt your ego and in a vain attempt to right this wrong, you tried getting her to ask you out, only to then reject her as some sort of revenge. There was only one problem with the plan, that was that with each passing minute you spent with her, you could feel yourself really falling for her.

“I’m sorry, but my heart belongs to Keqing alone”, you rejected yet another confession. There was a time where you didn’t care for the feelings of those rejected, but as you started falling in love with the Yuheng and began fearing rejection yourself, you became sympathetic again.

It wasn’t long until you were summoned to Keqings office and when you arrived, you brought her a plate of her favourite food.

“Good afternoon Lady Keqing, would you like some Golden Shrimp Balls. I have a friend who’s a really good chef make these for me and the best part is, they’re still warm”, you sat down in front of the Yuheng and placed the food on the table.

“Could you stop”, was everything she said. You had a small idea what this may be about, but decided to play dumb instead.

“Stop with what?”, you asked innocently only for her to let out a frustrated sigh.

“With the whole pseudo-confession thing you make every time you reject someone”, the only answer she got was silence and a confused look, so she decided to elaborate further.

“You know, the whole ‘My heart only belongs to Keqing’ stuff”, her confident aura disappeared for a moment and she blushed just ever so slightly.

“Oh that’s what you mean. I just don’t understand what you mean with ‘pseudo-confession’. Everything I said about you is what I feel. There may have been a time where I did it for my ego, but I swear on my face that I am genuine right now”, you said and placed your hand over your heart.

“Just give me one chance, one date, and if you don’t want anything after that I swear I’ll leave you alone”, you promised all the while staring right into her eyes. Finally she let out a defeated sigh.

“Fine. One chance and after that you leave me alone”, she agreed.

Venti

“That’s the deal.”

Whenever you entered a bar anywhere in Mondstadt or beyond there were enough people offering to buy you drinks to replace the entirety of Cider Lake. One of the few exceptions was the bard always singing songs in exchange for alcohol. At first you thought it was simply because he didn’t have any money for them himself, but with the amounts of beverages he would accumulate it wouldn’t be too hard to gift you one. You weren’t bothered by it too much however, rather finding him interesting. And after a night of too much drinking you could barely stand on your legs, yet alone go home. What ensued was different customers arguing over who was the most trustworthy to help you home with the bard winning, because of his seemingly soberness.

“Thank you a lot, I’ll have to repay somehow”, you managed to say as you arrived home. You definitely regretted accepting every single drink, but who were you to decline free alcohol?

“Just buy me some bottles of wine next time you are at the bar. Just so you know who to buy them for, I’m Venti”, his response made you laugh. There were a lot of weird ways to get repayed, but he seemingly only cared for his alcohol.

“Sounds like we have a deal, but only if you write me a song for it”, the two of you shook hands and finally parted.

The next time you entered Angel’s Share, you instantly went to talk with Venti and what started as a single conversation turned into a friendship. But with time you started to feel something different for the bard with the green clothes. It probably was just a simple crush, nothing you hadn’t experienced before and to mistake them for love had gotten you into short-lived relationships. So you would simply weather the storm and keep it to yourself. Or so you planned, but instead of disappearing, the feelings only became stronger until after yet another night of looking too deep into the bottle, you rejected yet another drunken confession by side hugging the bards waste and letting the truth out.

Ei

“Sorry, but there’s only place for one Person in my heart and that would be Venti.”

You were a child from the Kujou clan and widely seen as a great role model for how an aristocratic person should be. An excellent fighter, intelligent, charismatic and most importantly, good-looking. One day you would undoubtedly lead the Tenryou Commission, or at least that would have been before everyone found out what your father had done. Now you were summoned in front of the Shogun, someone your adoptive sister always admired, but from what she told you about her the only thing you felt was fear. When you finally met her, you were surprised by how kind she was. Sara used a lot of words to describe the Shogun, but you were sure, that ‘nice’ was never one of them.

While the meeting may have started completely professional, at the end the two of you had bonded and you found yourself being summoned every other day to ‘discuss the future of the Kujou clan’ with her. And so it didn’t take long for you to fall head over heels for the Archon.

Even though the two of you were supposed to be engaged in negotiations you and Ei somehow ended up walking through the streets of Inazuma. Eventually stopping at Yae’s Publishing house, with the owner unfortunately being present. Being flirted with may have been nothing new to you, but the way Lady Yae managed to tease you always managed to make you extremely embarrased and uncomfortable and today would be no different. Upon seeing you it didn’t even take her a second to start her relentless attack.

“Miko, that’s enough”, Ei eventually intervened on your side, but the literal command of a god did nothing to deter her. Lady Yae instead choosing to turn her teasing up to eleven.

“But Ei, to not share someone like them would be selfish. How about you finally pay me a visit once your negotiations are over”, she asked in a seductive tone and came even closer.

“I-I’m sorry, b-but there’s only place f-for Ei in my heart!”, you stuttered out way to loudly. Everyone around you suddenly stopped chatting and turned their heads towards you and when you looked at Yae, shocked at what she made you say, you were only greeted by a self-satisfied smug.