#i watched the short and now i really need to play her story quest

[leighsartworks216]

This request is actually inspired by my fic I'm writing and I wanted to see your interpretation of the scene.

Tav is the daughter of a well known pirate, basically the black beard of Baldur's Gate, but after an attack that lead to her father and alot of the crews death she roamed Baldur's Gate until the mindflayer thing happened.

Currently, she and everyone are at a tavern, celebrating another successful quest and honestly still being alive when she hears a familiar song and she sees four old crew members (family) she thought was gone. What is your interpretation of the scene, how would Astarion would react to the news, and seeing her reuinte with her family?

I did not expect this to turn out as long as it did lmao

Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader (can be read as gn)

Warnings: fear of abandonment, alcohol/drinking, swearing

Word Count: 2,123

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

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The tavern was lively and bustling on the evening you and your companions squeezed in, the sun beginning to paint the sky in dramatic colors as it sets. Almost instantly, your party's spirits are lifted - yours included.

Finding a table for 7 people is no easy feat, but you manage to snag one in the corner. Drinks were served around, jokes about the battle you’d just endured and old stories of lives before the Illithid threat fill the air with an easy camaraderie. It reminds you of your father's ship, of the crew that raised you. Thinking about them again left a bitter taste in your mouth. Astarion must have noticed the distant look in your eye. He reached under the table for your hand, interlacing your fingers easily, and trying to catch your eye.

You smile at him, but your eyes are still glazed over. “I’m just thinking about my family, is all,” you tell him, as though it’s as mundane as thinking of what one needs to get from the market to make dinner. You’d told him of your father, his crew, the ship - and what happened to it. It’s been months, but it’s still too fresh. You still wake up in the dead of night from visions of colossal waves that pull your head under, and screams cut short with the slice of a cutlass. “This… reminds me of them.”

He offers a concerned smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “I’m flattered we remind you of drunken sailors,” he drawled sarcastically. It worked to get a laugh out of you, if nothing else.

“Drunken pirates,” you correct. He watches the smile slip, your eyes become distant once more, water pricking at the corners.

Astarion had a… complicated relationship with family. He couldn’t remember his parents, and the “family” Cazador provided were less-than-welcoming at best. As such, he never really knew how to comfort you in times like these. Not that he knew how to comfort anyone, really, but he wanted to try, at least.

“Gods,” you sigh, choked with emotion, “I miss those daft fools.” You lean your head against his shoulder. He maneuvers to wrap his arm around your middle, holding you close, and takes your hand again. “We used to celebrate like this,” you mumbled. His elven ears picked it up easily. “We’d drown the night in ale and groan about it in the morning. Played knife-throwing games as our visions start to spin and double. Sing songs at the top of our lungs, like screaming it would scare away any monster at sea.”

You sigh again. Though he can’t see your face, he can see when you use your free hand to wipe your eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”

“Darling,” he hums, squeezing your hand, “we are technically in this together. Your burdens are mine and all that. In any case, you’ve carried all of our burdens, even when you didn’t have to. I’m only returning the favor.”

“Thank you.” You lift your head from his shoulder to kiss his cheek. He grins, all too pleased with the simple affection you lavish on him. “Now, enough wallowing.” You clear your throat and grab your tankard. “This is a celebration. And I intend to be too drunk to walk before the night is out.”

He sighed dramatically, lifting his goblet of wine. “And I suppose I’ll be the one to carry you back to camp?”

You smirk up at him, a glint in your eye. Like this, he can imagine you as the pirate you are. Swashbuckling and taking down other ships, climbing up ropes to the top of the sails, peering out from the crow’s nest for any sign of adventure. Dry land did not suit you, he thought.

But then came the thoughts that always followed. If you did return to the sea, to your old life with a new crew, after these tadpoles are removed, he couldn’t follow. The only reason he’s safe from the sun and the burn of running water was because of the damned, wriggly things. He couldn’t follow you onto a ship to be locked away in confined cabins until night, or help if the waters chose to fold over the deck in great big waves, threatening to take down the vessel. He couldn’t have that life. Not with you.

Your head was thrown back, neck bobbing with each gulp of shitty ale. You did not see the pain on his features those thoughts brought him. He tossed back the last of his wine.

You stand and gather the empty mugs of your companions, bright-eyed and ready for round after round (Karlach only encourages this.), when something sounds across the tavern. It’s a rather large establishment, and the bustle of other patrons covers up everything. But it’s there. Loud and boisterous and-

You rush to step over the bench and find the source of the noise. Astarion frowns and chases after. He’s right on your tail as you push through drunkards with half-formed “Excuse me”s and “Coming through”s. As you get closer and closer, the sound becomes clearer. It’s not just noise - it’s singing. A cacophony of voices all singing together.

You squeeze past a barmaid, nearly knocking the drinks from her hands, but the apology is lost when you see a table full of drunken pirates. One starts to take a swig mid-song, when his eyes land on you. He’s on his feet - Is that a peg leg? - in an instant, dropping the tankard carelessly to the table.

“Tav?” he gasps. The rest fall silent, turning around to see what the man was gawking at. They thought he was imagining it, as he’d done time and again since the attack. They all leapt up and rushed forward when you were more than a figment of their alcohol-addled minds.

Astarion was pushed aside as a horde of pirates surrounded you, hugging you and ruffling your hair and all speaking hurriedly with worry and joy. He can’t ignore the pain in his chest, as though someone had driven a stake through his heart. You hugged each one, misty eyed. Questions fell ceaselessly from your lips as you asked how they survived, what happened, what they’d been doing all this time. And he knew. He knew without a shadow of a doubt. He could not hope to be more important than your family. He couldn’t be the one you chose - not when you’d recounted your friends with tales of the open ocean and your father’s crew for hours.

He quietly backed away. The others ask why you rushed off and what was happening when he returned to grab the bottle of wine. He wasn’t too sure what he said. He’d like to think it was some sort of “They found their family” said with a charming grin, and a simple, but believable, excuse to go back to camp not like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, but like a vampire with things that need doing back at camp. Alone. With a bottle of wine.

Your eyes are red and your smile is about to burst off your face when you drag your pirate family over to meet your companions. You’re bouncing on your feet with energy, introducing everyone and nearly crying again when the pirates embrace everyone like family. Your heart is soaring when you look around for Astarion, searching around the table, the bar, the crowd. And it starts falling when you don’t see him anywhere.

“Hey, have any of you seen Astarion?”

Gale groaned as he was released from a bone-crushing hug. He winced as he held his shoulder. “He said he was heading back to camp.”

Your heart crashed firmly against hard cement, leaving cracks in the foundation. “Back to- Why? Did he say why?”

“No,” Shadowheart answered this time, trying not to get caught admiring the intricate braid of another crewmate. “He just took the wine and ran.”

The warm environment suddenly felt cold and unwelcoming. Was he uncomfortable with your family? They were known to be rather callous and loud - maybe they’d scared him off? Was the idea of confronting their family just too stressful for him? Did it bring up unwanted memories? Why… Why did he run off?

You touch an older pirate’s arm, letting them know you’ll be right back. They smile and nod and pull you in for one last hug. It feels bittersweet. You dash off from the tavern back to camp.

When you arrive, he’s uncorking a second bottle of stolen alcohol, frowning and grumbling and pacing. He’s so deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice you’re there until you say his name. He frowns deeply at you. “Shouldn’t you be catching up with your family?” he asks, but it’s bitter and cold.

You frown. “I wanted you to meet them. Why’d you leave?”

He looks away, focusing instead on taking a long drink from the bottle. It’s had no time to air out; he almost grimaces at the flavor. He pretends to read the label. “It was getting a little crowded in there,” he dismisses.

“So you leave without saying anything?”

“Well,” he begins, drawn-out and sarcastic, creating a barrier between you and his emotions, “you were busy. I’d hate to get in the way.”

You huff. “Astarion, please, just tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing.” He scowls. He begins pacing again. “Nothing’s wrong! You’ve found your family again! I’m so happy for you.” He spits the word like it burns him to say it.

“Is that what this is about? My family?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?” you plead. “What’s wrong?”

“YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE!” He sighs at his outburst, glaring at the ground. His feet are locked to ground, refusing to move closer or further away - because he can’t decide which would be better. “Once this is over, once we figure out how to remove these tadpoles, you’re going to run back to the sea. To a ship, with your family. And I can’t follow.” He scowls at himself. He hates laying out his thoughts, his feelings. It feels too vulnerable. He feels exposed. “You won’t stay on land.”

You won’t stay with me.

A silent war wages on in your head and in your heart. You’re torn in two directions - forced to choose between the people who raised you, the last fragments of your father and his ship, or Astarion, your vampiric lover. It’s painful.

You step forward slowly, like he’s going to startle and run away like a frightened rabbit. He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t look at you. The bottle in his hand feels too heavy.

“I love my family,” you start. You can see in an instant as his walls come back up. His face, still upset and angry, becomes stoic and defensive. “And I love the sea.” You stop in front of him. “And I love you.”

He closes his eyes, prepared for the rejection.

“I… I had a whole life on the ocean.” Your fingers brush his hand. It twitches involuntarily, wishing to hold you, for just one last moment. When he doesn’t pull away, you tangle your fingers with his. “I want to see what a future on land would be like.”

He swallows. He opens his eyes, but he can’t look at you. He looks instead at your hand in his. “And when you decide a life on a ship is better than hiding in the shadows with me?”

You pull his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles. He watches longingly.

“If I decide to sail again,” you accentuate your words with a kiss to the meat of his thumb, “I’ll come back. Over and over again. I’ll sail for a week and stay with you for a month. I’ll sail a month and stay with you a year. I love you, Astarion. And I will always choose you. And when we find a cure for vampirism, you can come with me.”

He huffs a laugh. “I’d be a poor excuse for a pirate.”

“You can scrub the deck.”

He finally meets your eyes with a playful scowl. It softens into something quiet and sad. “I don’t want to tear you from your family.”

You shake your head, stepping even closer. “You’re not, I promise. Now that I know they’re alive, I’ll be damned if I don’t keep in touch. But all they know is the sea. They have no reason to stay ashore - they’re heading out with a new captain next week.” You cup his cheek with your free hand. He sighs and leans into the touch. “I want to stay on land for a while longer.”

---

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[ninapi]

Glitched

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●

Premise: Rintarou unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams through an online game and he does his best to find this mysterious girl in the real world and keep her for good.

Word Count: 3289

Note: Hello, my beautiful dumplings. Welcome to my Suna miniseries, huhuhu. This will be a short story (4 chapters lol sorry, that’s my definition of short 🙃 sometimes I wonder how people write complete stories under 800 words, I just cant-), while I prepare for my new big series. Some high school drama, no multiple endings or routes just one~ Smooches for all of you.

Warning: Mild spoilers, if you’re up to date with the anime you’ll be just fine.

Chapter 1: Not so bad.

Suna Rintarou was by no means enjoying his second year of high school. Summer weather was definitely not his favorite, always tough on him, but the agony was even worse this year. He was tired, not just physically but mentally, the toll of dealing not only with his own sense of failure but also his teammates who were gravely disappointed of not being able to give their captain the satisfaction of going to the finals and bring victory to their school in his last year on the team.

It hasn’t been long since Inarizaki lost to Karasuno, which meant the practice schedule has increased not only in frequency but also in intensity. Days were very long and every single muscle in Suna’s body hurt. He was really looking forward to the holiday weekend, meaning he would have an extra day to rest.

His classmates were raving about this new online game that had recently come out and was very popular. They had plans to play together during the weekend and advance into one of the heaviest of dungeons before classes resumed, but their plan came to a sudden stop, the twins were being dragged by their mother into a family wedding across the country and they wouldn’t be able to join the team.

The boys were devastated, whining men heard all over the class. They were really counting on the Miya power to beat the hell out of the dungeon boss, help was needed desperately.

¨Hey Suna, I know you said you didn’t like the gameplay you watched the other day but can you please join our team? Without Osamu in our side we are doomed.¨ Suna heaved a deep sigh, collapsing on top of his desk. ¨Am I your last option? Can’t you find someone who really wants to play this? I’m so tired, I was planning on staying in bed all weekend.¨ Osamu pulled him back up, giving him a stern look, ¨Come on, help your mates. I wish I could stay and beat them up but there’s nothing we can do about it, it’s just for this weekend, we’ll be back for the next and continue where you left off.¨ he really didn’t want to do this, but if he didn’t agree to it they wouldn’t shut up until he did, ¨Fine, text me the link. I’ll be there after dinner.¨ the boys were smothering him with hugs and trying to kiss off his face in joy, making him grimace as he shook them all off and went back to sleep on his very comfy desk. The thought of finally resting this weekend turning into nothing but a sad memory.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☾ . :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.･

The guys added him to a group chat and everything was ready for the first quest. 

His sister tied his hair up at the front in a tiny ponytail so he would look like some of those cute game-streamers she watches, not caring if her brother needed it or not with his hairstyle. He was beyond annoyed with life in general, why do people not leave him alone, even his sister was now conspiring to destroy his peaceful long holiday weekend, ¨Curse those damn twins. It’s all their fault.¨ he was grumbling under his breath while putting his headset on and going in the game to create his character.

¨Alright guys, let’s go level up first, stay in this area and let’s meet up at the bottom of the hill when you reach level 20, then we’ll move in to the forest.¨ they all hummed in acknowledgement, breaking the group. Suna went off to chase some slimes and smaller monsters, hating his life every second of it, the game had a very cute looking art style and it was just not his jam at all. He found it hilarious though that the toughest guys in his class were all hunting cute rabbits and crying over it out loud and in their shared group chat space, so he made sure to screenshot some of those moments, posting them in his account and tagging all his playmates. He had to get something out of this torture, at least he could make fun of them for a while.

His character stopped moving and it turned into a pixel block, ¨Guys, is the game acting up or is it just mine?¨ he could only hear static coming through his headset and some of the guys were posting on the chat that the game kicked them out and they were rebooting their pc, so he just stayed there waiting for the rest to go back in. His character was still a bit glitchy but it was moving now. Then all of the sudden he heard a very loud screech pressed to his left ear, and he was positive that it was not human. ¨Oh my god, sausage! What are you doing to my poor headset? Leave it alone!!¨ saying he was confused was an understatement, all the players in his team were dudes, ¨Ehm, hi?¨ the line went quiet but he wasn’t hearing any more static, just some shuffling on the other side, ¨Who’s this?¨ you were sitting on your chair now, the fluff ball being kicked out of your room for good. ¨Uhm, Rintarou? How about you? Did the guys call you over? I didn’t hear anything about any girl joining our party.¨ Rintarou? What- you were just chatting with your girlfriends when your cat jumped on you and stole your headset, there was no Rintarou in that group, ¨I'm (Y/N). Are you Miyuki’s boyfriend?¨ Miyuki? Was there a Miyuki in his class? It was possible, not like he knows everybody but this was all so confusing, ¨Nope, definitely not that Rintarou. So you are not with the guys either? How did you get into the group? The game didn’t say someone new joined the party.¨ 

You were so confused, you could see your actual party on the screen and on the side chat but you couldn’t hear them talk, just this random guy, ¨Did your game get glitchy too? Maybe that’s how you ended up in my party.¨ he moved his character around, looking for you, but he was completely alone in the area, some of the guys still complaining about the game not letting them in through his phone. ¨Well, I mean yes. It did get glitchy but I can still see my girls playing on my screen, could it be just the audio that got crossed over somehow?¨ it was so weird, none of the girls even noticed your absence, you said you were having some troubles with your headset and so they just continued killing monsters, ¨Yeah, I don’t see you around me either, so I guess it’s just the audio getting messy. Hold on, Imma log out and see if that resets us back to normal.¨ you nodded even if he couldn’t see you. ¨Ugh, what the hell. The logout button is gone. How about you, do you see it?¨ you were checking everywhere in your screen, it was definitely not where it usually is, ¨It’s gone for me too. I bet it’s just still glitchy and will go back to normal in a bit, if it’s fine with you, we could just keep playing like this until the game fixes itself?¨ he was already back to killing slimes, way over level 20 by now and his classmates were still gone, ¨Yeah, fine with me.¨ 

Both of you continued doing your thing in complete silence, so much so that Suna forgot you were still there and started mumbling curses quietly, he was being targeted by larger monsters now and was still on his own, he didn’t know much about this game and he was loosing HP fast, ¨What’s wrong?¨ your soft voice startled him, his ears flushing bright red in embarrassment, ¨Sorry, I forgot you were still there. Just being attacked by inferno wolves, don’t know how to kill them, today is my first day playing this.¨ you chuckled quietly, he was kindda cute, those were very easy to kill lesser monsters, ¨Just jump on them and stomp hard.¨ he did as instructed, killing one instantly, ¨Oh wow that was easy, thanks. Are you like a guild master or something?¨ that made you smile, you were right, he was cute. ¨Nothing of the sort, just been playing this for longer. Let me know if you need more help, I know my fair share of tricks.¨ 

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☾ . :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.･

He was about to just ‘x’ out the game since the logout button was still gone, it was 9:30 and none of the guys were able to log back in, the game refusing to accept them, it was a waste of time, he didn’t even want to play this ridiculous game, the happy tune coming out of it was driving him insane at this point, that was until he heard your quiet giggles, it made him curious. They started soft, he almost thought he’d imagined it, but they grew louder each second and without realizing it, he was smiling, ¨What is it?¨ he wasn’t going to say anything but he just needed to know what was causing the cute fit of giggles on the other side, or he wasn’t going to be able to sleep in peace. ¨You heard that? Oh no, so embarrassing. Sorry, my cat, he is crazy you see. Earlier he was chewing on my headset so I kicked him out, but he got out of the house and got back into my room climbing all the way to the window, he’s like a ninja! And was nuzzling my tummy just now, I’m very ticklish.¨ was it normal for such a story to be this cute? Since when does he find cat ninjas cute? Why does he feel the need to tickle an unknown woman-

¨Was that sausage?¨ he chuckled evilly, wanting to continue the conversation, ¨Oh GOD, you heard that too? This game is like boycotting my life, I’m telling you. But yes, that’s sausage. He’s very heavy and of a brownish tone so he kindda looks like one, that’s why we named him that.¨ it’s not like he was interested in cats, but this was way better than killing blue pixel blobs, ¨It’s kay, I find names like that fun, I really don’t like when people name their pets, I don’t know Steve or something,¨ that caused you to laugh loud and clear, getting stabbed by a monster in the process, which made you just laugh even more, ¨Steve? What? Who would name their cat Steve?¨ you let your character bleed to death and were now hugging one of your pillows while sipping on some juice you had left, getting comfy on your chair. ¨Believe it or not, I’ve seen things, specially since I got in my current school volleyball team, there you see crazy, crazy stuff.¨ so he played volleyball…you’re nowhere near athletic but damn, he sounded like an interesting individual. The night was nothing like what you expected it to be, it was getting better every second.

Time surely flies when you’re actually having fun. He got some fruit jelly out and was chewing on it while speaking, needing some extra sugar to stay awake longer, ¨Are you eating fruit jelly?¨ he sits up right away, making sure his cam was actually off, ¨How do you know? Is this game livestreaming now or-?¨ you wished, ¨Hahaha no, it’s just that they make this sound, you know what I mean? Like when you suck the jelly out? I know I’m weird, I’m so sorry.¨ was he making sucking sounds just now? Why was he blushing? He didn’t know his favorite snack made suggestive sounds, well, that was embarrassing, he didn’t do that on purpose, ¨Ugh, well yeah you got me there, I’m eating fruit jelly. But I don’t think you’re that weird. Just a bit.¨ now you were the one blushing, it was fun talking to him, you've been talking about everything and nothing in particular at the same time for the last couple of hours and it was nearly midnight now. ¨Hey, is your game still glitchy? My chara is like dead now but still let’s me talk to you, I think there’s something really wrong with this game today.¨ his character was sitting down on a daisy field, enjoying his life as much as his owner, no monsters in sight, but the logout button was still not available, ¨Yeah, well I’m not dead, but things look the same, my mates were also complaining because the game kicked them out and didn’t let them back in.¨ he actually lied to his classmates and told them he was going to bed like twenty minutes ago but he just wasn’t capable of telling you how tired he actually was, ¨Hm, yeah I don’t think it’s going to let us sign out tonight, should we leave it open and just go to bed? It’s getting late and even if there’s no school tomorrow we should probably get going.¨ so you were in school too, your voice sounded right about his age but he didn’t know how to ask without sounding like a creepy old man, ¨Yeah I was thinking of going to bed too but sausage wouldn’t let us go.¨ us, huh? you smiled bashfully, playing with the headset cord, ¨Sausage is like that, I think he likes to hear your voice.¨ oh boy, was he smitten, he didn’t know much about you or what you looked like even but he wanted more of this, whatever that was, ¨Well then that means we gotta keep talking so he can hear it some more, maybe then he won’t eat your headset.¨ he could hear your giggles once more, they were creating a hole in his stomach, pretty sure it was eating itself out at your cuteness, he just wanted to continue hearing them, people never laughs at his comments, this was a first you actually thought he was funny, ¨We should. Do you think if we just don’t close the game it would stay like this? I mean like the audio and all…? Maybe we could talk some more tomorrow.¨ were you asking him on a date? That was a date, definitely. ¨Yeah I can do that, anything for sausage’s sake.¨ you were both grinning at the screen like idiots, not wanting to leave, ¨Then, since it’s the weekend how about we come back in the morning? Oh wait no, here in Miyagi the holidays are important, I gotta go to the shrine early, but how about after lunch?¨ he was so tired that even getting up by lunch time seemed like a task, but he would gladly lose sleep for this, ¨Yup, can do. See you tomorrow, sausage girl.¨ both of you left the pc on and went to bed, the smile on both of your faces causing your cheeks to hurt. 

He was cute, you’ve never had so much fun talking with a guy before, it all felt so natural like if you were talking with your best friend, like if you’ve known him since forever. You wondered if asking for his number would be too bold, he was funny and you just wanted to talk to him some more, maybe even meet him one day. Just thinking about it was making you feel giddy, your legs kicking on your bed as you squealed against your pillow, trying your best to quiet down your excitement and not wake your mother up.

Suna was on his bed thinking the very same thing, would it be weird to ask for your number? You were complete strangers, but that’s how people make friends, right? Not weird at all. He rarely had intentions of talking with any girl but talking to you tonight has been the highlight of his year and he wasn’t exaggerating. He didn’t even know he could laugh this much, Suna just couldn’t wait anymore, he was sure he wanted this to continue and with new resolution, he went to sleep, hoping noon would come fast, so he could ask for your number and maybe, hopefully, get to see you even if it was just through his phone, he just needed to put a face to this bubbly feeling inside his chest.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☾ . :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.･

When he woke up the following morning he noticed his pc was off, this causing him to go into panic mode, what happened? He made sure it would stay on all night-

¨MOOOOM, why is my pc off? Did you touch it?¨ he was pissed, anything but that, not the pc. ¨What? No I didn’t. I think we lost power for a bit earlier, your dad was trying to fix the oven and was messing with the power box.¨ that explains it but it wasn’t less aggravating, would he even be able to go in the game again or would he be kicked out like his mates.

He turned it back on as fast as he could, going in the game, but luck wasn’t on his side, two of his classmates were already in leveling up on his screen. He grabbed his headset and literally screamed on the mic, ¨(Y/N), please tell me you are there.¨ but he could hear very manly snorts on the other side, crushing his heart ¨Who’s (Y/N)? Your girlfriend, Suna?¨ he just couldn’t deal with them right now. He rebooted his pc in hopes of getting the line back up to yours, but when he did, he saw a notification pop up on his screen, ¨We apologize for all the troubles caused last night, as an apology, we’ve sent 100 diamonds and 2 HP refills into your inbox.¨ 

No, this couldn’t be happening. They fixed it overnight. He hadn’t ask you for your number yet, that’s what he was going to do as soon as he heard your beautiful voice.

You were fixing your make up, silly thing to do since he couldn’t even see you, but it was definitely a date. You got your headset on with a bright smile on your face as you saw your screen moving, the game still playing on the background, ¨Morning, Mr. Sausage. Got a nice sleep?¨ your friends were beyond shocked, ¨Mr.Sausage? (Y/N) are you talking to your cat again? I think you need to go out some more.¨ Miyuki? No, no, no, no, why??? Where was he? What happened? You didn’t turn the game off, he should still be there! ¨Yeah…did they fix the game? I can hear you guys just fine now.¨ you were seriously hoping he was just late and would jump in the conversation any second now, ¨Mhm, they gave us some dias, check your inbox. You can buy the sword you wanted with that!¨ Stupid sword, you didn’t want it anymore, not if that meant not being able to talk to him again. ¨Sorry guys, I…I’m login out for the day.¨ without another word you just closed your laptop and collapsed face first onto your bed, life sucked.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☾ . :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.･

Tuesday couldn’t come faster for Suna, he just ran over to the class next door almost clashing with the wall, ¨ATSUMU! I need your help.¨ the eldest twin glared at him with intensity, couldn’t he see what time was it? Why would someone ask for a favor so early in the morning ? He was barely awake after getting up at four to jog. ¨Tell me later, maybe during lunch break when I can actually listen to you.¨

He threw his bag on the floor and went over to the tired setter, shaking him lightly, ¨Please, only you can help me.¨ what could be this important? He looked over at the middle blocker giving him a dirty angry look, but he was sporting a not so fashionable pair of bags under his eyes, even his skin tone was a bit off, was he not supposed to rest for three days? This made him reconsider his actions, ¨What is it? Stop shaking me, dammit!¨ he sat down on the chair in front of his desk, serious mode on, ¨You have the phone number of the Karasuno setter right?¨ huh? this was definitely not worth the while, he went back to sleep on his desk, ¨Atsumu please! I need you to ask him something, please I’ll beg if you want me to.¨ he’s never seen him this desperate, ¨kay, I think I do, yeah he should be on the group chat. What do you need from him?¨ he was pulling out his phone, ready to rely the message and hopefully go back to sleep, ¨Can you ask him if he knows a girl named (Y/N)¨ a girl? This was unexpectedly interesting. ¨(Y/N) what? Is she from Karasuno?¨ he was punching the message out, waiting on the details, ¨Well I don’t know, all I know is her first name and that she lives in Miyagi, she goes to school there and is possibly around our age.¨ Atsumu couldn’t believe what he was hearing, talk about dumb teammates, ¨You do know Miyagi is a prefecture, right? Not a city. How many schools are there even in Miyagi? Why would Tobio-kun know her? You are being stupid, Suna.¨ he was deleting the message, shaking his head, ¨No, no, please just ask him. I know he probably won’t know her but is my only chance, please. I won’t bother you again if he says he doesn’t know…¨ the setter sighed, sending the ambiguous message out, this was really silly, but he could see how desperate his friend was, and he just wouldn’t let him sleep ever if he didn’t comply. 

To their surprise, Kageyama replied almost immediately, ¨I don’t, but I’ll ask around.¨ Atsumu showed him his screen and the small smile that painted his features left the setter breathless, so he can smile-

¨Thanks, please let me know if he says anything else.¨ he would find you, no matter what.

○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●●○●○●○●○●

Tagged babes: @dazaisfavgf

Masterlist Next Chapter

[samkat10423]

New Bridgeport

For the past month, I’ve been going through my CC, in my yearly quest to get rid of stuff I never use. Sadly, I downloaded more new stuff than I got rid of. But such is life. Anyway, while looking for old sets that I’d somehow lost, I came across a remake of sorts, of Bridgeport. It’s called “My Bridgeport’ by Rflong7. Apparently, someone asked her to empty out the main town - obviously they never heard of the mass destruction feature on Master Controller - and Rflong7 agreed to do it. While she was at it, she fixed the routing issues. (One of the main reasons I never play EA’s version!) And since I don’t really play vampires and such - only supernatural I play are witches - I figured I’d try this world. It comes unpopulated, which for me is a HUGE plus.

All of the original lots are there, but since I’ve been watching “Friends” reruns, I decided this world needed a coffeeshop. (Remember, the original world only had lots from the 1st 3 EPs). I saw a Central Perk lot over on TSR, but it was only 1 story, and if you watch the show, it’s in a high-rise. So, I “fixed” the lot, by adding a few more levels. (BTW, those brick textures are all the same, they just look a tad different on the cornice. Not sure why.) I may go back in and add a “frieze” level to further increase the height of the building. Looks a tad short, looking at it now. Since the original was on a much smaller lot and this one is bigger, I was also able to expand this one a bit. And as a sidenote, those “fire-escape” stairs were a devil to place. Sometimes the damn game just won’t cooperate with you! 

This is the interior. I changed the lot zoning from “hangout” to “coffeehouse,” then got rid of the original Late-Night bar for the coffee one from Uni. I used CC from @aroundthesims for that area. (Thank you, Sandy!) I also got rid of the columns that were used in the original and used that porch railing item. Plus, I decided to use a brick texture for the walls. Then I switched out some of the furniture, added artwork, rugs, plants, and speakers. And on the “stage” by the front window, I switched out the chair that was next to the guitar for danjelay’s Singer spot. (It works like the karaoke machine). And viola! Done!

Then I went down to the bay area and placed this lot, since I figured the town crooks needed a place to go after they were apprehended by the police. The original was one created by cyclonesue over on TSR. Since I always convert simspaks into package files and am too damn lazy to hunt down all the original CC used, I substituted stuff I had for what was missing, Like that fence. I think it was created by gelina and has scissor-wire on top. Inside. I also got rid of all the crap cyclonesue used to “entertain” the inmates. I actually ran the medical department in our county jail for a couple of years, and believe me, no one gave a rat’s ass if the inmates were “entertained.” (Some of them were hardcore nasties. We’re talking serial killers.) I’m planning on revisiting this lot, and making some more changes, so when I do, I’ll show you the interior.

This is another cyclonesue lot - her sewage works one. Like the 1st one, it was created fairly early on by her and didn’t use any of the lovely CC she later created. It’s zoned as a pool, because who hasn’t dreamed of swimming in raw sewage?! Again, it was on a 30x30 and this space is 40x40. So, I added stuff. I used @crowkeeperthesimmer’s lovely wall texture set - thank you! - for the exterior finishes on everything, Then, replaced all the windows and doors with the “factory set” ones by cyclonesue. And used her “grill” floor set on some of the walkways. Then added more plants, a parking area, and spawners. (There are none on the original lot). Since I don’t plan on redoing the science center, I added the robot fish and the death fish here - alone with some other weird fish spawners. Since these fish are living in waste pools, I figure they’ve mutated a tad. BTW, that building in the front of the picture is an apartment building that was already there. The only way I could take a picture was doing it from that lot. I was going to eventually bulldoze it, but I figured, “Who doesn’t want to rent a space overlooking the sewage plant and town jail?” so, it gets to stay. BTW, I really need to google how to change the color of the water in those pools to make them look more sewagey. (Totally a word!) 

There are 1 or 2 more 40x40 lots down there that I will be doing. But right now, I’m not sure what will go there other than an industrial build.

[autumnslance]

Hi Aeryn! I have a question. I’ve been told I make very defined characters but I don’t have a real goal or growth in mind. What do I need to do to develop a goal or have my character have growth? I hope you are having a good evening!

I have no idea what Aeryn's up to on her private island (I think Thancred's visiting), but I, Lyn, had a nice evening watching a pal play the opening of Lost in Random which is so far quite a charming game with a Studio Laika films vibe and look, and a unique combat system involving dice and cards. 😉

Honestly my own RP characters' goals always, to me, seem pretty vague and character growth/change kind of happens as story does. Especially in an open ended long term setting like a RPG-MMO. I find it much easier in smaller, more structured games, like tabletop RP, to determine a RP character's goals in line with the rest of the party and/or the GM's themes and story.

Or at least, I have a hard time describing goals in concrete terms a lot of the time; I maybe have a nebulous idea or feeling, but it's not something I can articulate easily--which probably sounds funny coming from me, but it's true.

Trying to plan character growth in detail is a fool's game to my mind; you can have an idea of how/where you want a character to move towards, but a good story may very well upend those plans, either in RP or in standalone writing.

I have had some GMs tell me that some of my characters are too reactionary, and need more assertion and drive and goals of their own, but that's an aspect of me and how I play. I also like to be support, even to just letting others drive the story and bouncing off them, discovering my own character's goals along the way. When I do have characters with existing driving goals and plans, it tends to be for a specific type, or reason, and even then are often simple and/or short term. Sometimes cuz I am running a game so my antagonists have goals for the party to fight against, or allies have goals for them to join. Sometimes cuz I am being a plot device for a GM, such as various characters I played when staffing our old Vampire LARP; I had control of my chargen and goals, but within very loose parameters set by the GM, which I built off of.

Aeryn's goals and growth are determined a great deal by MSQ, since I don't really RP her and have her as a fanfic WoL, so many things are predicated on that. Like, she wants to help the research into finding stable ways to travel to other shards so the Scions can see the people they love on the First again (particularly reuniting Ryne and Thancred). That's a goal that formed due to her particular connection to the Scions and the course of plot...which has been sidetracked by helping Vrtra's quest, which as both his friend and a Thavnairian is also important to her.

A lot of her growth has come unexpectedly as I puzzle out her reactions to MSQ and side story events, and sometimes they tend to surprise me. It was during a previous years' FFXIV Write as I was doing tank role quests in ShB and pondering the day's word that I realized she'd utterly lost any faith in divinity she once had. It's shaped a few other things since then. Also the relationship...wasn't supposed to happen, a goal I had was no shipping in just telling a WoL's story, but I also didn't fight it (too much) when it fell into place. Sometimes a character chooses a goal the writer didn't consciously intend, and it's better that way.

Dark Autumn tries to keep her FC running and support her comrades while always improving upon herself in some way. That's honestly it; she has what she wants. But she's also a bit of a wish fulfillment character and more put together than most.

C'oretta doesn't know what her long term goals are yet; she's very young, very freewheeling, and not thinking too hard about the future. So her focus tends to be quite immediate; learn a new discipline and make sure everyone else stays cheered up are about the extent of her plans for now. Maybe she'll 'grow up' someday. Haven't decided.

Iyna, for all her backstory details, really has no goals or plans at this time. She's kind of stewing in the background still, sorting who she is and how, and will likely need to be drug toward growth and new goals for herself.

It really just depends on the kind of player/writer you are, and how you mesh (or don't) with the folks around you. For standalone stories the characters should want/need something, goals to drive the plot. Even if that goal is simply to escape whatever fate has thrown their way; neither Bilbo or Frodo Baggins wanted to go on adventures after all, but they did, with a goal of eventually getting home again, though their goals shifted and they changed and grew through those adventures with their companions.

Character growth/development isn't always positive, either. Sometimes people get worse or regress through their trials (Laurentius learned nothing and fell in with a worse crowd for it, contrasted against Wilred who strove to become heroic). Some folks don't really need to change drastically; they know who they are, and/or have had their major growths before they go on their adventures, and it's about how they deal with current situations, perhaps caused by the fallout of their previous lives/actions, or perhaps just who they are now and how they handle things differently compared to how they would have in their youth (A lot of author Roger Zelazny's characters fall into this, and I tend to see Y'shtola and Gaius as this way too).

In the end though, while others may have critiques of your characters, the more important thing is, are you, their player/writer, happy with the characters? Do you know they have goals/plans/growth opportunities, even if you have a hard time articulating them? More short term wants than long term? Are you just letting the chips fall where they may and see how the character comes out of it? Are you writing more plot-driven stories where the characters are pulled along by the whims of fate and have to struggle for any in-world agency? That's valid, and while it may not work for everyone, if it works for you, I wouldn't sweat too much what others think about that aspect of your character development.

[itfitsitshipsart]

Heyo!! It's super cool to find a selfshipper who ships with Raven/Schwann so 3, 9 and 15 for your TOV s/i please!! :D

( @pixelselfships )

Aw, thank you! ^3^ I love all my men, but Raven is my special sweetheart, so you dont know how happy that makes me feel~

3. how do the other characters generally feel about your self insert?

Overall, people consider her a kind soul and generally likable. The Vesperia group see her as a sort of doting mom friend after the events I'd the game, especially Karol, whose basically all but legally adopted. Don Whitehorse found her to be a quiet pushover at first, holding back a fiery spirit. He really helped her come out of her shell and felt at least a little proud of her.

As for Alexei, there were mixed feelings. He saw her as sort of extended family, her household being close to him and his work, and felt in part that he needed to help protect her after the loss of her parents. But he also ended up finding her a pain and annoyance as she became disobedient and more of a hindrance than a help.

Oh, and I can't forget to mention LeBlanc and the "Schwann Fan Club", as i like to call them ^^. They adore their 'Lady Evelyn' and how loyal and loving she is to their brave Captain. They would do just about anything for her.

9. who are your self insert’s closest friends?

I mean, other than Raven (what can I say? Marry your best friend), she's very close with Karol, the mother and son bond, and Estelle and Judy. With Judith the two bond a lot over their caretaking roles with the rest (and have womanly conversations. The old man blushes at just the thought~). And with Estelle, the two are close minded in some ways and history. Both were protected nobility who found themselves out in the world, want to do good, be kind, and heal others, and learned to live for themselves a bit more.

She would also have considered Don Whitehorse a friend of sorts, and his grandson Harry. She owed a lot to him and his help, and the two would get into quite the banter some days.

15. how does your self insert play a role in the plot of the story? do they help directly defeat the villain, support the heroes, etc.?

I'll try (and fail) to keep this short. Obviously, spoilers XD For background, since before the beginning of the game, Evelyn lived in Dahngrest and helped the Don in exchange for room and board. She met and saw the Vesperia crew a few times by then, they know she had a sort of friendship with Raven (side quest, anyone?) But she had actually known Raven/Schwann for a little over a year now (Schwann first, then Raven).

Some days after Don Whitehorse died, and Raven had rather solemnly told her to go home, and she wouldnt be seeing 'Raven' again because that mission was over, she went to Heliord. Previously (end of act 1), when Alexei saw Evelyn at Dahngrest he instructed her to go to the knights headquarters when she was 'done playing'. So she went there, and Alexei happily welcomed her back. He was less happy though as she began to push for answers. But what would she do if he told her his plans? Nothing, he assumed. Or perhaps she would help him in the future.

So Alexei gave her his 'evil monologue' about his plans for the empire, and blastia, and Estelle, and told her to stay put and behave. He left her under the watch of guards, and left to go get Estelle because Schwann should have been taking her to the rendezvous point in the near future.

Of course, Evelyn wasn't going to sit still. A year ago she would have, but not anymore. Alexei chosing LeBlanc and crew to guard her closely, failed. She fled to the capitol with many of Alexei's notes and plans in hand, and demanded to see the council and prince Ioder because she had proof that Alexei was committing treason.

Long story short, It was thanks to her that Flynn went after Alexei under those suspicions, and she also convinced LeBlanc and crew to go follow for concern for Schwann, even though they were still posted to guard her (since now with her accusing Alexei of treason she may have been in more danger). And thank goodness they got to him in time.

-

Well, I hope I didnt ramble too much and that everything made sense! I'm planning on writing out an overview of her entire story/character arc really soon. I hope you'll read that when I start posting it!

[tuulikannel]

My WIPs

@solarsavoy wrote about her wips, and that got me thinking about mine. Unlike her, this isn’t so much to show you what my goals are, but what kind of plotbunnies are bouncing around in my brain at the moment…

Well, first of all, there’s of course those wips I’m already posting, and hopefully finishing some day soon(ish). Stress the word hopefully… >_> Caught Between, a Hikaru no Go fic with intersex Sai, and All the Gifts, Assassination Classroom fic inspired by The Girl with All the Gifts (which has been facing something of a writer’s block for a while, but good news for the readers: I started writing this again yesterday!)

Then, the unpublished wips (that are stealing all my attention). Don’t hold your breath waiting for any of these, though… they'll happen. Some year.

Untitled Assassination Classroom/Danganronpa crossover #1 I’m pretty excited about this one, but also slightly terrified. I mean, I’m afraid this fic’s going to be huge (in size, that is), and I technically know where it’s headed, but I’ve no idea how to reach that ending yet. ^^; I also have way too many characters in my hands (all assclass characters + all characters from the 3 DR games…) How many different povs can you have in one fic? I’ve now written some 6k of words, and I’m still far from what I consider the starting point of the fic. >_> It’s all just background stuff so far.

The starting point? It’s this: “Under the broken moon, Junko Enoshima laughed.”

(I feel like that sentence is a bit… overly dramatic or something, but I just like the image. XD)

Untitled Assassination Classroom/Danganronpa crossover #2 which is in fact a Koro Quest/Despair Dungeon crossover. I personally like this idea a lot and I’ve a clearer view of the plot than with the first crossover. I’ve written most of the first chapter, but the previous plotbunny’s demanding my attention right now…

Trying to come up with a title for this, I created one kinda in the style of the ridiculously long Victorian chapter titles: The Epic Tale of How Students of Two Grand Schools Set Aside Their Differences and Joined Forces to Combat Despair. Then, just for the sake of procrastination, I put that through several layers of google translate, and it turned into this: Breakups aside, a good story about two high school students struggling with depression.

Therefore, I’m thinking of this fic these days as Breakups Aside, just fyi. A working title? It has nothing to do with the plot, but so what.

And then there is Toilet-Bound Nagito-kun. Umm, does this need any explanation? xD Hajime has a wish, that’s all I’m saying about the plot. If you’ve played DR2, I’m pretty sure you know what that wish is. Something he’s desperate enough to realize that he’s sneaking into a girls’ bathroom in the middle of the night after an urban legend. This was inspired by a short clip on youtube. Don’t watch the video if you’ve not played DR2! No spoilers for Toilet-Bound Hanako-kun, the clip’s from the very beginning of the anime. Here it is.

I thought this fic would just be a pointless, short one-shot, but now that I’ve reached what should have been the end, the characters suddenly want me to take this seriously, and I don’t know where I’m going with this anymore. >_> We’ll see.

Then, there’s two more additions to Mythologica (assclass retellings of various myths, that is) that for now exist only in my mind:

Helen of Troy which is nothing but a rom-com. Here’s the cast: Kanzaki as Helena, Sugino as Menelaus, Isogai as Odysseus, Ren as Paris of Troy, and basically the rest of 3-E guys (apart from Nagisa and Karma) as her other suitors. Oh, and Maehara is Penelope, i.e. Odysseus’s love interest. XD

Then there’s a very short ficlet idea with Hazama as Medusa. Inspired by the song Medusa by Heather Dale.

And some sequels:

The Haunting of Kunugigaoka, continuation to blind alley. Again, something I really want to write, but it exists only as a bunch of random ideas in my mind, atm. It’s not even a wip yet…

A sequel for Chika-go, crossover between Hikago and Dresden Files, still untitled (what a surprise!) I’ve only written very little of the beginning, and this is unlikely to be ever finished… but I like the first fic a lot and would love to write this someday. Hikaru returns to Chicago years later with Akira, just to find out that a lot has changed.

And oh damn, I’d forgotten about this one! A Dresden Files fic about Thomas. I seem to have written over 7000 words of it… I really have to finish this someday. There’s less than half left to be written, anyway.

That’s it, I guess? There might be some other random things, but they’re so unlikely to ever be realized that it’s not worth it to talk about them.

[erigold13261]

📢Psychonauts NSR AU, Chapter 1: Performance FAIL��

Vinyl City Auditions. A show where a musician’s dreams come true. They introduce themselves, get ready for the stage, and have their dreams made. This is the story of two. One was a woman, she had fair skin, long brown hair which was a little spiky, she wore a red shirt, a denim sleeveless jacket, black leggings, and black boots. The other was a man, he had green skin, short black hair, wore a black jacket, a yellow shirt with beige stripes, dark green pants with ripped cuffs, and black boots. “Heya!” the woman introduced herself to the camera. “The name is Milla. I weild the guitar.” she continued, “And this is…“ she introduced the man. “Sasha.” the man spoke. “And he plays the…“ “Drums.” Sasha spoke. “And together, we are Bunk Bed Junction!” Milla explained who they are. “Hey, Sasha. There sure has been quite a lot of electronic music in this city lately.” Milla asked her friend. “That’s true Milla.” Sasha responded. “But you know, this city lacks a certain something. Don’t you think?” Milla asked. “Absolutely Milla.” Sasha replied. “Luckily for you guys, we have the perfect fix! Why don’t you tell em, Sasha!” Milla spoke as she looked at the camera. “Why Milla, we’re Bunk Bed Junction and we’re going to…” Sasha spoke as he forgot his lines. “We’re going to junka…uhm… in their bunka, no wait it's—“ Sasha tried to remember. “Thaaaat’s right, Sasha! We’re gonna bunka, we’re gonna junka, and we’re gonna BAM in your faces!” Milla finished. “We’re bringing back rock! This long-forgotten art used to be the backbone of Vinyl City, you know.” she explained. “So be ready to listen to our super tasty riffs of—“ “Okay cut. That’s a good take.” the camerawoman interrupted. “Oh, that’s it?” Milla asked. “Yes, we got what we needed. Now please make your way to the audition stage. Just follow the arrows. Thank you.” the camerawoman spoke. “No thank you so much! That was mighty sweet!” Milla thanked. “Next!” The camerawoman shouted. Sasha and Milla made it to the entrance of the stage. “How could you forget your lines, Sasha? It’s Bunka, then Junka, then BAM in your faces!” Milla complained. “I can’t help it. As soon as the camera started rolling I was just…wow the lights were just so intense.” Sasha responded. “Well don’t screw this up okay? We have to look good in front of the world!” Milla replied as she and Sasha made it to the stage. “Yeah, I hear ya. Maybe this time I'll—!” “Okay, shhh. Shhh! We’re almost there. Be nice to the judges!” Milla interrupted Sasha.

The two then made it to the stage. Watched by many people. Watched by the judges. It was their time to shine. “Are you ready?!” Milla shouted to the audience. “Why hello you too.” an old man’s voice spoke. “Helloooooo Ford!” Milla replied. “Right, and you are…?” Ford asked. “We’re Bunk Bed Junction!” Milla responded. “Bunk Bed Junction.” Ford asked. “Yes! Because you see? NSR needs more fans!” Milla replied. “So we’re gonna build a new junction right into your highway so that more people can join this awesomeful party! Bunk Bed Junction! Woo!” Milla continued. “Clever. I hope you put as much thought your music as you did with your band name.” Ford responded. “So what will you play for us today?” he asked the band. “Oh, it’s something this city needs! We’re playiiiiiing rock!” Milla responded. “Say again?” Ford asked. “Rock! We’re here to bring it back to the top! Just like how Vision Quest did a long time ago!” Milla replied. “Really?” Ford asked. “Very well then, show me what you’ve got.” he continued. “It’s time to…” Ford started. “Start. The. ARENA!” The audience shouted.

It was time to rock. Milla started first, a security drone arrives and Milla jumped to the beat from the shockwaves of the drone three times. Then another drone arrived, this time Milla jumped in different beats. Then she pulled out her guitar and attacked the security drones as well as keeping her rhythm. The third challenge for her, three drones were now flying in the air. She collected white notes as ammo and launched them by playing her guitar. This time, there was a chest with a metronome on it, Milla walked near it and played on her guitar causing the chest to transform into a pole with horns which honked in celebration. “Good. And what about you, other guy? Do you just flaunt your hair all day?” Ford asked. “I play the drums.” Sasha replied. Ford nodded, “Initiate the second phase.” Ford spoke.

Now it was Sasha’s turn. The first pair of drones looked like tops with pillars that sprung out. Sasha beat his drumsticks on the drones which were now defeated. Then there were three air drones again, this time Sasha grabbed the ammo and played the drums which caused the ammo to be launched and the air drones falling. Now the next thing Sasha faced was different, there were two cannons that launched purple balls of light, Sasha strucked them in time, damaging the two cannons. The last thing Sasha faced were two chests, Sasha played his drums to transform them. “Very good. Now let’s see both of you use those skills to power up the Qwasa. Initiate the final phase.” Ford instructed.

Now it was time for the show. Milla started, she saw three spinning drones and attacked them with her guitar. Then she saw five air drones and launched five notes at them. Now it was Sasha’s turn. He saw one drone, three air drones, and some ammo. He collected ammo and struck the air drones and attacked the drone on land. And then there were five more air drones and two more land drones as well as ammo. He collected the ammo, struck the two drones and dodge the air drones. And then he shot the air drones using the ammo. Now it was time to end, Milla played her guitar, and Sasha played  his drums… ending their music with a bang.

“Yes! We did it! We finished the course!” Milla spoke, “Thank you! Thank you!” she thanked. “There’s so much electricity in this room!” Milla continued. “How do you think it went?” Ford asked. “Brilliantly!” Milla responded. “Thought’d you say that. Fellas, what do you think?” Ford asked the judges. Milla was expecting all Os, but what she heard was… 

*BUZZ* “Well 1 out of 6 isn’t bad—“ Milla spoke.

*BUZZ* “W-Wait a minute!” Milla spoke again.

*BUZZ* “Can you just listen to—“ Milla tried to speak up.

*BUZZ* “Sasha! Say something!” Milla persuaded. “Uhm… tada!” Sasha spoke.

*BUZZ*

Five Xs, five Xs all because of rock, the audience were complaining, they thought the music was great. But they got five Xs. Ford calmed the audience down. “I’ll be blunt. You came here for us to judge you. And it looks like my artists have spoken. You have no future in show business.” Ford spoke. “What?!” Milla asked. Sasha wanted to speak up, “But we managed to finish the arena and we—“ “We reserve the the right to reject you even if you finished the course. We have the final say in everything.” Ford interrupted. “That’s not fair!” Milla complained. “Please we run on talent. Not fairness.” Ford responded. “This audition is held to find the next best musician who meets our standards of excellence, and you certainly didn’t qualify.” Ford continued. “Well that’s rich coming from a bunch of wannabe artists!” Milla insulted. The audience gasped, Sasha gasped, and just then…

*BUZZ*

The final X, Milla and Sasha were done for. “See that X? It means you’re done. If I were you, I would swallow my pride and use this time to rethink my career.” Ford spoke. “You can’t do this me!” Milla spoke. “I just did.” Ford replied. “No! I’m an artist! I’m a performer! A performer! I belong on this stage!” Milla responded. “Okay! I’ve heard enough. Thank you very much. Off you go.” Ford ordered. “You haven’t heard the last of me! Okay?!” Milla replied. “What do you know about rock?! I bet you’ve never even held a guitar in your life!” Milla continued. Now Milla messed up. She saw Ford kneeling down. “Okay, listen lady. You think, that you can just walk in here and drag us all into your silly fantasy?” Ford asked. “You are so naive to think that rock is still relevant. Stop living in the past!” Ford continued. “There’s only one music in demand right now, and that is…” Ford explained.

“…EDM. The age of rock is over, EDM rules this city!” Ford ended. Milla felt insulted. She ran up to Ford immediately. “Oh yeah?! Well how about you, take all those Xs, and shove em up your—!”

They were kicked out. All because they played rock.

[mannakete]

#wolqotd’s from twitter, Collet Brunel edition

> Hoes does your wol(oc) feel about their name? (from RikaXIV on twt) related q:  depending on culture or circumstance, does your WoL have an alias or multiple names? How did they get their new name? (from OriWhiteDeer on twt)

Surprise, Collet is NOT her birthname. Due to an incident before she came to Eorzea, she forgot almost everything about herself and where she came from. In the first instance of “dude just go with it” in this post, she read a book on the ferry from Kugane to Limsa who’s main character was named ‘Collet Brunel’ (in Hingashi of course) so with a lack of anything else, she took that as her name.

She was born with the name Altani Malaguld. She’s a Raen from the Steppes.

>  Does your WoL have a signature hairstyle or is your WoL like me who fancies changing hairstyles every now and then? (from rinkunffxiv)

The hair you see in the screencap is the hair she will have for the rest of her life.

>  Just out of curiosity, how old are your WoLs in your canon? (from Mortinfami ART (answered last year))

As of now (pre-6.3), Collet is 26 years old.

> who's your wol/oc's favorite twin: alpinhaud, or alisaie? (from protractions on twt)

Collet likes Alisaie for many of the same reasons Raze does, they can just chat openly, gossip, but also because during Stormblood, she and Alisaie bonded a LOT due to Collet regaining her memories and all the trauma that came with it. Alphinaud tried to help, but there was just some things he couldn’t help her through. She still loves him dearly as much as she loves Alisaie or the other scions, but Alisaie was THERE when it mattered.

> I assume the question was about the WoL’s feelings about the end of Crystal Tower, but the tweet no longer exists sadly

Collet didn’t really realize just how much it hurt for a while to watch him disappear. When they met, she was still learning eorzean and had a very ‘punch me and i punch you back’ friendship. It wasn’t til she met the Exarch and how similar he felt to G’raha that it hit just how much she missed him. He was the only one who didn’t walk on eggshells around her.

It was especially, ESPECIALLY bad after the bs that he pulled after the Innocence trial.

>  I have another incredibly important wol question. summer theme let's go. could they crush a(n allagan) watermelon between their thighs. (from catnipfarm)

Collet can barely crack the outer rind. But she tries. Requires a ton of effort though.

> (Endwalker spoilers)  While recovering from the final fight with Zenos, who comes to visit them? Do they even want/allow visitors? (from InMyLeyLines)

Collet didn’t want visitors. She let them in to be polite but kept it short and stunted. They may have “violently” staged and intervention and refused to leave her by herself. Like Raze she was worried this was a dream

>  If your ffxiv character wasn't the warrior of light, what would they be instead? Job quest npc? Custom deliveries npc? Raid story npc? Whacky sidequest npc? (from Loudwindow)

Collet simply would not BE here, or if she did still manage to survive the steppes, she’d still be with her first family, the Rogue’s Guild. 

>  How did your WoL take learning about their Azem? (from faeth_s)

Collet doesn’t know how to take it. This would be her 3rd identity and she’d not sure if she could handle all of that.

>  What's the most unnatural job for your WoL to play? What's the least suited to them as a person/their combat style? (from byletri)

Dark Knight but she needs it for her story so essentially anything where she needs to be up close and personal. That did make the final fight with Zenos hilarious when they start punching him. That was funny 

>  Inspired by a recent question about what scents they like: I want to know what their magic smells like! If they're not a caster, are there any scents you associate with particular kinds of magic in general? (from InMyLeyLines)

Sweet and citrusy! Imagine sticking your face in a lemon cake.

>  WOL/OC question: what disciple of the land/hand jobs do you consider canon for your WOL? Is there any special context in their story? Are there some that they like and partake in but maybe aren't very good at? (from thancredulous)

Altani was good at cooking, weaving and leatherworking. All things she needed for her clan’s home life. Some of this stayed when she became Collet, but barely any of it is put into practice, except cooking.

>  Did your Wol want to be a Wol? (from RikaXIV)

A bit of yes and a bit of no. She wanted to remember who she was, but also because of the book’s influence, she’s the first to help when its needed. She wasn’t trying to be a hero, she just wanted to pay back the people that saved her when she first came to Eorzea and remember who she used to be.

>  What type of crier is your WoL? Loud, ugly-sobbing type, or perhaps it takes far too much to get even a single tear? (from WoLQuestions)

She doesn’t cry easily, but it’s also not hard to. When she’s sad, she’ll probably cry a little. 

>  On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being incredibly easy, and 10 being nearly impossible, how difficult is it to date your WoL/RP OC? (from ChubScarlet)

Realistically, 10. She’s in a WoLship with G’raha by the end of shadowbringers. Only solidified by Endwalker. For funsies, 7. You’d need to be direct and blunt, but she has the possibility of already being interested in you before you asked. 

>  everyone wants an ishgardian ballroom scene but how well would your wol actually handle all those noble lords and ladies mobbing them for dances (from radicrow)

She has two left feet when it comes to dancing, but she’s also too accommodating she’d try to give everyone a turn. But she wouldn’t enjoy it, really. It’s just going with the flow.

>  Who is your WoL’s emotional support? (from WoLQuestions)

At the beginning, the Rogue’s Guild were her emotional support and family. Somehow they taught her the Eorzean language and when she had nightmares about places she didn’t know and people she couldn’t remember, they were there for her. And they still are! Especially now that the Scions have publicly disbanded.

The Scions have also been her biggest support in their own ways. 

>  What kind of video games would your wol play in a modern AU? Any reason for that? (from CGekkou)

Collet will probably play Animal Crossing with not as much emphasis on exterior or interior design but just collecting and doing stuff. She might also be a mobile game player, very casual though. Maybe a certain monster collecting series. Has nothing to do with how I’ve named my character colette since xy

>  Your WoL returns to their childhood home. How do they react? (from AnrhiOri)

That section of Stormblood was half trauma, and half what we actually do in that zone. Her whole family was gone, she was left for dead as an offering to MAYBE stop the foretold calamity of her clan. Needless to say, the less time she spends there now, the better.  She has been getting better though.

>  What would be your WoL's catchphrase when you select them in the Trust menu? (from FF_XIV_EN (official)

Let's do our best!" 

Curiously, if she's selected as tank, she not only gets a different voice over, but her line changes to "I promise. Let's go."

>  Cringe/comedy/awkward scenario— given how known the WoL is now; what would YOUR WoL/D do if just outside the Rising Stones a bunch of obnoxious fans now gather to try and get a glimpse of them??? (from SmolWol)

She is absolutely trying to wade through the mob while also trying to greet everyone. She’s not going to be RUDE. Who do you think she is?

>  where was your wol during the calamity at the end of 1.0? (from bardings)

Before the Calamity, she lived on the Azim Steppes in a smaller offshoot of the Malaguld clan. They lived away from most of the major clans because of the amount of Raen mixed in. Collet has both Raen and Xaela blood.

Non qotd facts from my twt: > The book that changed her path in life is VERY obviously a reference to Tales of Symphonia > She absolutely used that as a weapon during arcanist training before being picked up by the Rogue’s Guild > Her Fray is actually the pieced together consciousness of Altani that she regained after the Azim Steppes plotline. Altani only manifests when Collet is a Dark Knight, this is what they agreed on. > Collet and G’Raha have mutually agreed on after Shadowbringers that if they ever need help, they would ACTUALLY call for help. This is what clues him in that something is horribly wrong during “In From The Cold” (considering she just went missing and showed up like nothing was wrong) and why he (and the scions) did not let her be alone during post-endwalker recovery > Her tolerance for spicy foods is pretty high > Sandwiches she owes V’kebbe: 27

Collet’s class path: (2.0) NIN > (2.1+) RDM > (3.0) DNC > (4.0) DNC(/DRK) > (5.0) DNC > (6.0) DNC

[noelleai]

"Hey, what's up?" said Noelle, looking at Berdly from the corner of her eye as he stared intently at his laptop screen. She smiled at him but couldn't help but look a little anxious in front of him. They were both seated at a table in the cafeteria, eating their lunch. He had a sandwich while Noelle ate some cheese pizza. "I'm just doing homework," Berdly replied, without taking his eyes off his laptop. Noelle nodded, feeling relieved. She didn't want to have to deal with any awkwardness right now. Even though they've known each other for a long time, Noelle still found dealing with Berdly hard sometimes. Usually, she could handle her social anxiety by hiding behind her friends, but she wasn't so lucky today. Today, she was alone. The only thing keeping her from panicking was the fact that Berdly seemed completely engrossed in his work.

"Oh? What are you working on?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going. She looked down at her plate as she waited for his response. A moment passed, and then Berdly answered.

"…Uh, I'm, uh…working on my computer game."

"Your game? You make games!?" Noelle exclaimed excitedly, almost forgetting how shy she was. "Really!? That's awesome!"

Berdly nodded slowly, looking a bit embarrassed. "Yeah…but it's pretty bad…"

Noelle laughed, shaking her head. "Don't worry, I'll play it! If anyone can make a good game, it's you!"

There was silence for a few moments before Berdly spoke again. "Y-yeah. Thanks." He smiled nervously, looking down at his laptop.

"So…uh…what's it about?" Noelle asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something fun.

Berdly glanced up at Noelle briefly before looking down at his laptop once more. He took a deep breath and began speaking. "It's called 'The Quest for the Ultimate Easter Egg' and it takes place in this world of mine where you, uh, explore dungeons and find, um, eggs and stuff, y-you know, like in Mario 64 or something."

Noelle smiled, nodding along. "Sounds cool! And…how do you play it?"

"Well, you start out in a room and, uh, you walk around until you see a key, which is hidden somewhere, and you pick it up and unlock the door, and then you go into the next room, and maybe that's a treasure chest or a monster or something, and, uh, you open it and take what's inside and, uh, that unlocks the next room and, uh, it goes on like that, you know?" Berdly's voice trailed off as he finished talking.

Noelle laughed, a smile spreading across her face. "That sounds great! I can't wait to play it!"

Berdly chuckled nervously, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. "Thanks. So um, yeah. That's the basic idea. Like I said, it's pretty bad."

Noelle laughed. "You're not gonna get better by thinking about it, right?"

Berdly nodded, smiling weakly. "Yeah, you're right. I just need to do it."

They kept talking for a while longer, and Berdly finally looked up at Noelle. "So, uh…do you wanna hang out sometime?"

"Me? Um, sure!" Noelle beamed, nodding enthusiastically. "I'd love to!"

Berdly smiled, looking relieved. "Great! Let me text you later and we'll set something up."

"Okay! Sounds good," Noelle replied, smiling happily.

"Cool! Bye!" Berdly said, standing up from his seat and waving to her as he left the cafeteria. Noelle watched him go, feeling excited all over again. She felt like she was finally getting close with Berdly. Maybe they really did have a shot at becoming good friends after all. { TYPE: Short-form story * M2 }

[skyloftsword]

Gonna post my thoughts about Tears of the Kingdom here. Very, very positive I love this game, my new favorite game of all time but I have some minor issues with it. (Anyways my opinion without spoilers is: loved the story/characters, loved the music, loved running around this Hyrule again, loved the puzzles, Ultrahand is underwhelming but still fun, a few nitpicks and no DLC announced yet why Nintendo).

SPOILERS of course

I’ll start with my issues that I have with this game. Ultrahand is not as fun as I was expecting it to be. I still enjoy it of course but it does not control well at all. Also the reach is like super, super short which really just makes stuff more annoying than it needs to be. However for the most part I still really enjoyed using it. Also there’s a few things that should have been shown off/told because while I do have ideas about them and they don’t affect my experience at all, they still really should’ve been stated. These are pretty much my only notable issues with the game (also please give us dragon petting DLC Nintendo).

I love the story and characters so much. I love Rauru and Sonia’s relationship so much especially after doing the Stone Monuments side adventure. I really loved watching the memories especially since they told us what was going on instead of mostly just building up Link and Zelda’s relationship this time. The plot twist was very obvious but it still managed to hit harder than almost every other impactful moment in the franchise for me (I always make sure to give the Light Dragon a bunch of Silent Princesses and stay on her head for a while every time I play). The old sages are whatever but they served their purpose well enough. I didn’t mind the repeated cutscenes they gave because I just thought of that as them being for the new sages. Mineru was also a great character, I love her design so much. The new sages were great as well. Tulin was definitely the highlight of the bunch. Sidon and Riju were also great and I love that Sidon was still worried about losing his loved ones. The Regional Phenomena quests were also far more interesting as well because they weren’t just “shoot 5 targets and then fight a very easy (but cool) Divine Beast battle”. Not to mention the dungeons actually being the locations of folklore is great. Zelda was amazing in this game I want to have a spinoff where Link and her just goof around with no Ganondorf or evil guy (let them be happy Nintendo).

The music of this game is absolutely incredible. I cannot put into words how much I love the Colgera and Demon Dragon themes. Not to mention the main theme hits so much harder after completing the story (I cannot listen to the ending of it without shedding a tear). I love the ambience while running around Hyrule and I really do not mind that a lot of BotW tracks were reused (because they’re also good, also MM reused a number of OoT tracks as well). Though I would have really loved a jukebox feature like Odyssey and Frontiers have so I can listen to songs while roaming Hyrule.

Anyways roaming around Hyrule and seeing what changed really made me feel how I felt back on March 3rd, 2017. Back then I felt like I was never going to have this feeling ever again, but nope, this game managed to bring that feeling back once again despite even finishing a 100% playthrough of BotW a week before launch. I love running around Hyrule with the sage ghost things so much too. I will say, everyone is right about them being annoying as hell to activate.

So uh yeah, I love Tears of the Kingdom to death. I love this Hyrule, this cast, pretty much everything about it aside from a few issues. Now please Nintendo, move on from this Hyrule and cast. Let the next Zelda game be more unique.

[howsitduud]

Mission: Impossible 3 + 4 Review

Mission Impossible 3 (2006): Directed by JJ Abrams

They weren't lying, there is a lot of running in this movie, but I won't lie, Tom Cruise is real good at it. As for the movie itself, I'd say that this is the first great movie in the franchise, but it's not without its problems. The beginning really doesn't leave a good impression, with Ethan getting married to a woman who never gets a single chance to show any personality and the action scenes being quick-cut bullshit in the dark so we never get a single chance to see anything. I honestly think that the first action scene is worse than any action scene from the second movie, which is saying a lot. But once Ethan goes on that mission to kidnap Philip Seymour Hoffman, it's smooth sailing. I was trying to see how far I could go without mentioning him, but his character, Davian, is the best part of the movie and the best villain in the franchise so far. He's so effortlessly intimidating and him kidnapping Julia means that Ethan now has more personal stake in this mission outside of just the cause or his job or a random woman he barely knows. I said that she's not a great character on her own, but I cared about Ethan getting Julia back by the end of the movie, and that's made better by the fact that this is by far the best Tom Cruise performance I've seen in my life. He plays vengeful sorrow so well I thought I might as well join Scientology if it means I become THAT good of an actor (spoilers: I won't). Oh, and the action is good from there because it includes some great humor and character moments. Probably my favorite moment is in the final act where SPOILERS: Ethan shows Julia how to use a gun and protect herself while he short-circuits his brain. It's a surprisingly wholesome moment and the bit where he says "I love you" before he dies is really nice, too. Overall, this movie is really good. Not amazing or anything, but I would definitely watch it again someday, which is more than I could say for both previous movies.

Final Score: 7/10

Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011) Directed by Brad Bird

Looks like we're finally getting to the good shit, because Ghost Protocol has some kickass action scenes. Brad Bird is a master at this kind of stuff, and he really got to flex with this movie. There's too many cool sequences to count, like the infiltration into the Kremlin, the climb up the Burj Khalifa, the chase in the sandstorm, the final fight in the car lot, all of the action scenes have such a feeling of scale and spectacle, compounded by the amazing music, cinematography and editing. On top of that, the actual story of this movie is really solid, giving Ethan Hunt and his team no way of getting backup or help from anyone they can trust and dangling the threat of nuclear warfare over their heads is a great way of upping the stakes from the last 3 movies, and I'm really interested in what they do next movie. This kinda gave me vibes to the last act of Edge of Tomorrow with how stacked the odds were against them. With that being said, I do have a major problem with the actual dialogue. The plot is rock-solid, and some characters are good. Ethan is as charismatic as ever, Bogdon and Benji are nice additions to the field, and Hendricks is played by the best villain from John Wick which is based, but I can't say I really care about any other character. Jane is kind of a nothing character, which sucks because there's plenty they could've done with her character and her revenge quest, and I don't need to tell you that replacing Luther with Jeremy fucking Renner is a downgrade in every way. Plus, there's a bunch of jokes in this movie that feels like "MCU-style humor," where the characters joke around in a serious situation in the most forced ways possible. It works for the MCU (most of the time), not so much here. Still, this movie fucking rules and I can't wait to watch the next movie later tonight.

Final Score: 8/10

[getmemymicroscope]

Random Thoughts

So, I've been re-watching Leverage: Redemption (which has quickly become my favorite season of Leverage, even with the sad dearth of Hardison, because I much prefer the dynamic that Mr. Wilson has with the group as that to which the Nate/Sophie dynamic brought - aka, her having to mother him). But that's a story for another day - clearly Nate being Nate helped forged that team. There's no denying that, and it's not something Mr. Wilson would've been able to do. (Actually, this is sort of a lie - I've already re-watched the whole season again last weekend, and am now trying to avoid binging it again just long enough to watch some other episodes of other things.)

But anyhow, there was an episode with LeVar Burton, which was a lot of fun. Probably not my favorite episode of the bit, only because the first two and the last all had Hardison so therefore they immediately jump to the top, but the LeVar Burton episode was still awesome. And him being a librarian was just so perfect (the show did good with callbacks - the same episode with mention of TNG; Noah Wyle's character saying he knew medical jargon because of TV; plus, of course, all the Doctor Who shout-outs, continued from the original series; etc.)

This is funny, because it intersects slightly with my childhood (Reading Rainbow) - and that intersection has lead me to a podcast called LeVar Burton Reads. In which, as the title suggests, he reads (short) stories. It's great fun - at a time in life when I'm just too mentally exhausted to make the effort to read, I can just turn on a podcast and he'll read it to me in 50-ish minutes. It's pretty cool, though admittedly I'm way behind the times and only like a handful of episodes in.

The most recent story he read was @neil-gaiman's Chivalry - which itself was a blast of a story. Neil Gaiman's works are sadly under-read by me - Good Omens, of course, and I'm now halfway through Neverwhere (and just awaiting a quiet weekend to finish); Stardust is also on my 'soon-to-be-read' list - but the little bit I have read has been very enjoyable. And Chivalry is no less so. The amazing contrast of, well, the mundane of day-to-day life versus the fantastical quest really got me thinking. Though that, also, is a story for another day. This post is more just to get some random thoughts out of my head. Point is: LeVar Burton is awesome, LeVar Burton Reads is awesome, and Neil Gaiman is awesome.

Very unrelated: I've been watching The Resort on Peacock and in the most recent (today's) episode, Baltasar's detective-work very much reminded me of Dirk Gently. I think it's aided by the way the show/mystery is being played out/overlaid, but his questions and his "I need to get to know you" approach is, while probably bordering on TMI/irrelevant, the type of fantastical, seemingly unrelated but somehow deeply connected stuff that I'd imagine Dirk Gently would be interested in.

That's it for now. Time to go listen to another short story.

[yato-sensei]

Spotlight: Weathering with You

So let's talk about this gem of a film called Weather with You (also known as Tenki no Ko). I will try to keep it brief and not give too much away as you might be reading this in hope of watching it in the near future.

So what's the story?

The film follows a runaway high school student Hodaka Morishima, who struggles to financially support himself—ending up with a job at a small-time publisher in Tokyo. At the same time, an orphaned girl, Hina Amano strives to find work to sustain herself and her younger brother. While these characters try to secure stability, Tokyo is experiencing torrential rain showers that seem to disrupt the usual pace of everyday life.

Both characters meet by accident when Hodaka attempts to rescue Hina from some shady men and they decide to run away together. As the story plays out, Hodaka discovers that Hina has a strange yet astounding power.

But as we have learnt from many superhero films, power always comes with a hefty price. 

Is it worth a watch?

You might be put off watching this film because some people describe it as a ’supernatural romance’, but in my opinion it is more than that. It is beautifully constructed, filled with deep emotions, and incredibly endearing with its humour and heartfelt scenes. The writer-director Makoto Shinkai has crafted a charming, visually impressive animated story that's both magical and thrilling.

Weathering with You is an exploration of friendship, family, and folklore, as well as a slow-burning first love story. There is also an underlying, but not heavy-handed, environmentalist message about how the weather can affect people and even cause disaster. If you are worried that this film is sad, yes there are a few tear-jerking moments, but I would argue that these are more heartfelt than heartbreaking. 

In short, should you see this movie? Yes. Stop what you are doing and find this film! I really love this movie. The first time I saw this film was when I had lost my job and I was unsure of my direction. I lost my faith. But this film reminded me that I should never give up. It might sound cheesy, but the film resonated with me and helped me believe in my abilities once again. I helped me realise that I should keep going until I hit my goals.

So if I love this, what else will I like?

Makoto Shinkai also directed Your Name which was a smash hit where a teenage boy and girl embark on a quest to meet each other for the first time after they magically swap bodies. If you love Weather with You, you are sure to love this too.

A film I feel that isn’t talked about as much as the other two, A Silent Voice, which deals with themes such as bullying, disability, forgiveness and mental health. It follows the story with compassion and understanding involves the former bully turned social outcast, who decides to reconnect and befriend the deaf girl he had victimised years prior. If you are after another heartwarming film, this one's for you.

Now if you enjoy the supernatural theme, how about The Girl Who Leapt Through time? If you had the power to change the past, would you? As mentioned before, with power, comes consequences. If the past is changed, it could alter the future. This film is both relaxing and suspenseful when it needs to be, definitely worth putting on after Weather with You.

Thanks,

Daydreamer x

[qqueenofhades]

The Green Knight and Medieval Metatextuality: An Essay

Right, so. Finally watched it last night, and I’ve been thinking about it literally ever since, except for the part where I was asleep. As I said to fellow medievalist and admirer of Dev Patel @oldshrewsburyian, it’s possibly the most fascinating piece of medieval-inspired media that I’ve seen in ages, and how refreshing to have something in this genre that actually rewards critical thought and deep analysis, rather than me just fulminating fruitlessly about how popular media thinks that slapping blood, filth, and misogyny onto some swords and castles is “historically accurate.” I read a review of TGK somewhere that described it as the anti-Game of Thrones, and I’m inclined to think that’s accurate. I didn’t agree with all of the film’s tonal, thematic, or interpretative choices, but I found them consistently stylish, compelling, and subversive in ways both small and large, and I’m gonna have to write about it or I’ll go crazy. So. Brace yourselves.

(Note: My PhD is in medieval history, not medieval literature, and I haven’t worked on SGGK specifically, but I am familiar with it, its general cultural context, and the historical influences, images, and debates that both the poem and the film referenced and drew upon, so that’s where this meta is coming from.)

First, obviously, while the film is not a straight-up text-to-screen version of the poem (though it is by and large relatively faithful), it is a multi-layered meta-text that comments on the original Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the archetypes of chivalric literature as a whole, modern expectations for medieval films, the hero’s journey, the requirements of being an “honorable knight,” and the nature of death, fate, magic, and religion, just to name a few. Given that the Arthurian legendarium, otherwise known as the Matter of Britain, was written and rewritten over several centuries by countless authors, drawing on and changing and hybridizing interpretations that sometimes challenged or outright contradicted earlier versions, it makes sense for the film to chart its own path and make its own adaptational decisions as part of this multivalent, multivocal literary canon. Sir Gawain himself is a canonically and textually inconsistent figure; in the movie, the characters merrily pronounce his name in several different ways, most notably as Sean Harris/King Arthur’s somewhat inexplicable “Garr-win.” He might be a man without a consistent identity, but that’s pointed out within the film itself. What has he done to define himself, aside from being the king’s nephew? Is his quixotic quest for the Green Knight actually going to resolve the question of his identity and his honor – and if so, is it even going to matter, given that successful completion of the “game” seemingly equates with death?

Likewise, as the anti-Game of Thrones, the film is deliberately and sometimes maddeningly non-commercial. For an adaptation coming from a studio known primarily for horror, it almost completely eschews the cliché that gory bloodshed equals authentic medievalism; the only graphic scene is the Green Knight’s original beheading. The violence is only hinted at, subtextual, suspenseful; it is kept out of sight, around the corner, never entirely played out or resolved. In other words, if anyone came in thinking that they were going to watch Dev Patel luridly swashbuckle his way through some CGI monsters like bad Beowulf adaptations of yore, they were swiftly disappointed. In fact, he seems to spend most of his time being wet, sad, and failing to meet the moment at hand (with a few important exceptions).

The film unhurriedly evokes a medieval setting that is both surreal and defiantly non-historical. We travel (in roughly chronological order) from Anglo-Saxon huts to Romanesque halls to high-Gothic cathedrals to Tudor villages and half-timbered houses, culminating in the eerie neo-Renaissance splendor of the Lord and Lady’s hall, before returning to the ancient trees of the Green Chapel and its immortal occupant: everything that has come before has now returned to dust. We have been removed even from imagined time and place and into a moment where it ceases to function altogether. We move forward, backward, and sideways, as Gawain experiences past, present, and future in unison. He is dislocated from his own sense of himself, just as we, the viewers, are dislocated from our sense of what is the “true” reality or filmic narrative; what we think is real turns out not to be the case at all. If, of course, such a thing even exists at all.

This visual evocation of the entire medieval era also creates a setting that, unlike GOT, takes pride in rejecting absolutely all political context or Machiavellian maneuvering. The film acknowledges its own cultural ubiquity and the question of whether we really need yet another King Arthur adaptation: none of the characters aside from Gawain himself are credited by name. We all know it’s Arthur, but he’s listed only as “king.” We know the spooky druid-like old man with the white beard is Merlin, but it’s never required to spell it out. The film gestures at our pre-existing understanding; it relies on us to fill in the gaps, cuing us to collaboratively produce the story with it, positioning us as listeners as if we were gathered to hear the original poem. Just like fanfiction, it knows that it doesn’t need to waste time introducing every single character or filling in ultimately unnecessary background knowledge, when the audience can be relied upon to bring their own.

As for that, the film explicitly frames itself as a “filmed adaptation of the chivalric romance” in its opening credits, and continues to play with textual referents and cues throughout: telling us where we are, what’s happening, or what’s coming next, rather like the rubrics or headings within a medieval manuscript. As noted, its historical/architectural references span the entire medieval European world, as does its costume design. I was particularly struck by the fact that Arthur and Guinevere’s crowns resemble those from illuminated monastic manuscripts or Eastern Orthodox iconography: they are both crown and halo, they confer an air of both secular kingship and religious sanctity. The question in the film’s imagined epilogue thus becomes one familiar to Shakespeare’s Henry V: heavy is the head that wears the crown. Does Gawain want to earn his uncle’s crown, take over his place as king, bear the fate of Camelot, become a great ruler, a husband and father in ways that even Arthur never did, only to see it all brought to dust by his cowardice, his reliance on unscrupulous sorcery, and his unfulfilled promise to the Green Knight? Is it better to have that entire life and then lose it, or to make the right choice now, even if it means death?

Likewise, Arthur’s kingly mantle is Byzantine in inspiration, as is the icon of the Virgin Mary-as-Theotokos painted on Gawain’s shield (which we see broken apart during the attack by the scavengers). The film only glances at its religious themes rather than harping on them explicitly; we do have the cliché scene of the male churchmen praying for Gawain’s safety, opposite Gawain’s mother and her female attendants working witchcraft to protect him. (When oh when will I get my film that treats medieval magic and medieval religion as the complementary and co-existing epistemological systems that they were, rather than portraying them as diametrically binary and disparagingly gendered opposites?) But despite the interim setbacks borne from the failure of Christian icons, the overall resolution of the film could serve as the culmination of a medieval Christian morality tale: Gawain can buy himself a great future in the short term if he relies on the protection of the enchanted green belt to avoid the Green Knight’s killing stroke, but then he will have to watch it all crumble until he is sitting alone in his own hall, his children dead and his kingdom destroyed, as a headless corpse who only now has been brave enough to accept his proper fate. By removing the belt from his person in the film’s Inception-like final scene, he relinquishes the taint of black magic and regains his religious honor, even at the likely cost of death. That, the medieval Christian morality tale would agree, is the correct course of action.

Gawain’s encounter with St. Winifred likewise presents a more subtle vision of medieval Christianity. Winifred was an eighth-century Welsh saint known for being beheaded, after which (by the power of another saint) her head was miraculously restored to her body and she went on to live a long and holy life. It doesn’t quite work that way in TGK. (St Winifred’s Well is mentioned in the original SGGK, but as far as I recall, Gawain doesn’t meet the saint in person.) In the film, Gawain encounters Winifred’s lifelike apparition, who begs him to dive into the mere and retrieve her head (despite appearances, she warns him, it is not attached to her body). This fits into the pattern of medieval ghost stories, where the dead often return to entreat the living to help them finish their business; they must be heeded, but when they are encountered in places they shouldn’t be, they must be put back into their proper physical space and reminded of their real fate. Gawain doesn’t follow William of Newburgh’s practical recommendation to just fetch some brawny young men with shovels to beat the wandering corpse back into its grave. Instead, in one of his few moments of unqualified heroism, he dives into the dark water and retrieves Winifred’s skull from the bottom of the lake. Then when he returns to the house, he finds the rest of her skeleton lying in the bed where he was earlier sleeping, and carefully reunites the skull with its body, finally allowing it to rest in peace.

However, Gawain’s involvement with Winifred doesn’t end there. The fox that he sees on the bank after emerging with her skull, who then accompanies him for the rest of the film, is strongly implied to be her spirit, or at least a companion that she has sent for him. Gawain has handled a saint’s holy bones; her relics, which were well known to grant protection in the medieval world. He has done the saint a service, and in return, she extends her favor to him. At the end of the film, the fox finally speaks in a human voice, warning him not to proceed to the fateful final encounter with the Green Knight; it will mean his death. The symbolism of having a beheaded saint serve as Gawain’s guide and protector is obvious, since it is the fate that may or may not lie in store for him. As I said, the ending is Inception-like in that it steadfastly refuses to tell you if the hero is alive (or will live) or dead (or will die). In the original SGGK, of course, the Green Knight and the Lord turn out to be the same person, Gawain survives, it was all just a test of chivalric will and honor, and a trap put together by Morgan Le Fay in an attempt to frighten Guinevere. It’s essentially able to be laughed off: a game, an adventure, not real. TGK takes this paradigm and flips it (to speak…) on its head.

Gawain’s rescue of Winifred’s head also rewards him in more immediate terms: his/the Green Knight’s axe, stolen by the scavengers, is miraculously restored to him in her cottage, immediately and concretely demonstrating the virtue of his actions. This is one of the points where the film most stubbornly resists modern storytelling conventions: it simply refuses to add in any kind of “rational” or “empirical” explanation of how else it got there, aside from the grace and intercession of the saint. This is indeed how it works in medieval hagiography: things simply reappear, are returned, reattached, repaired, made whole again, and Gawain’s lost weapon is thus restored, symbolizing that he has passed the test and is worthy to continue with the quest. The film’s narrative is not modernizing its underlying medieval logic here, and it doesn’t particularly care if a modern audience finds it “convincing” or not. As noted, the film never makes any attempt to temporalize or localize itself; it exists in a determinedly surrealist and ahistorical landscape, where naked female giants who look suspiciously like Tilda Swinton roam across the wild with no necessary explanation. While this might be frustrating for some people, I actually found it a huge relief that a clearly fantastic and fictional literary adaptation was not acting like it was qualified to teach “real history” to its audience. Nobody would come out of TGK thinking that they had seen the “actual” medieval world, and since we have enough of a problem with that sort of thing thanks to GOT, I for one welcome the creation of a medieval imaginative space that embraces its eccentric and unrealistic elements, rather than trying to fit them into the Real Life box.

This plays into the fact that the film, like a reused medieval manuscript containing more than one text, is a palimpsest: for one, it audaciously rewrites the entire Arthurian canon in the wordless vision of Gawain’s life after escaping the Green Knight (I could write another meta on that dream-epilogue alone). It moves fluidly through time and creates alternate universes in at least two major points: one, the scene where Gawain is tied up and abandoned by the scavengers and that long circling shot reveals his skeletal corpse rotting on the sward, only to return to our original universe as Gawain decides that he doesn’t want that fate, and two, Gawain as King. In this alternate ending, Arthur doesn’t die in battle with Mordred, but peaceably in bed, having anointed his worthy nephew as his heir. Gawain becomes king, has children, gets married, governs Camelot, becomes a ruler surpassing even Arthur, but then watches his son get killed in battle, his subjects turn on him, and his family vanish into the dust of his broken hall before he himself, in despair, pulls the enchanted scarf out of his clothing and succumbs to his fate.

In this version, Gawain takes on the responsibility for the fall of Camelot, not Arthur. This is the hero’s burden, but he’s obtained it dishonorably, by cheating. It is a vivid but mimetic future which Gawain (to all appearances) ultimately rejects, returning the film to the realm of traditional Arthurian canon – but not quite. After all, if Gawain does get beheaded after that final fade to black, it would represent a significant alteration from the poem and the character’s usual arc. Are we back in traditional canon or aren’t we? Did Gawain reject that future or didn’t he? Do all these alterities still exist within the visual medium of the meta-text, and have any of them been definitely foreclosed?

Furthermore, the film interrogates itself and its own tropes in explicit and overt ways. In Gawain’s conversation with the Lord, the Lord poses the question that many members of the audience might have: is Gawain going to carry out this potentially pointless and suicidal quest and then be an honorable hero, just like that? What is he actually getting by staggering through assorted Irish bogs and seeming to reject, rather than embrace, the paradigms of a proper quest and that of an honorable knight? He lies about being a knight to the scavengers, clearly out of fear, and ends up cravenly bound and robbed rather than fighting back. He denies knowing anything about love to the Lady (played by Alicia Vikander, who also plays his lover at the start of the film with a decidedly ropey Yorkshire accent, sorry to say). He seems to shrink from the responsibility thrust on him, rather than rise to meet it (his only honorable act, retrieving Winifred’s head, is discussed above) and yet here he still is, plugging away. Why is he doing this? What does he really stand to gain, other than accepting a choice and its consequences (somewhat?) The film raises these questions, but it has no plans to answer them. It’s going to leave you to think about them for yourself, and it isn’t going to spoon-feed you any ultimate moral or neat resolution. In this interchange, it’s easy to see both the echoes of a formal dialogue between two speakers (a favored medieval didactic tactic) and the broader purpose of chivalric literature: to interrogate what it actually means to be a knight, how personal honor is generated, acquired, and increased, and whether engaging in these pointless and bloody “war games” is actually any kind of real path to lasting glory.

The film’s treatment of race, gender, and queerness obviously also merits comment. By casting Dev Patel, an Indian-born actor, as an Arthurian hero, the film is… actually being quite accurate to the original legends, doubtless much to the disappointment of assorted internet racists. The thirteenth-century Arthurian romance Parzival (Percival) by the German poet Wolfram von Eschenbach notably features the character of Percival’s mixed-race half-brother, Feirefiz, son of their father by his first marriage to a Muslim princess. Feirefiz is just as heroic as Percival (Gawaine, for the record, also plays a major role in the story) and assists in the quest for the Holy Grail, though it takes his conversion to Christianity for him to properly behold it.

By introducing Patel (and Sarita Chowdhury as Morgause) to the visual representation of Arthuriana, the film quietly does away with the “white Middle Ages” cliché that I have complained about ad nauseam; we see background Asian and black members of Camelot, who just exist there without having to conjure up some complicated rationale to explain their presence. The Lady also uses a camera obscura to make Gawain’s portrait. Contrary to those who might howl about anachronism, this technique was known in China as early as the fourth century BCE and the tenth/eleventh century Islamic scholar Ibn al-Haytham was probably the best-known medieval authority to write on it extensively; Latin translations of his work inspired European scientists from Roger Bacon to Leonardo da Vinci. Aside from the symbolism of an upside-down Gawain (and when he sees the portrait again during the ‘fall of Camelot’, it is right-side-up, representing that Gawain himself is in an upside-down world), this presents a subtle challenge to the prevailing Eurocentric imagination of the medieval world, and draws on other global influences.

As for gender, we have briefly touched on it above; in the original SGGK, Gawain’s entire journey is revealed to be just a cruel trick of Morgan Le Fay, simply trying to destabilize Arthur’s court and upset his queen. (Morgan is the old blindfolded woman who appears in the Lord and Lady’s castle and briefly approaches Gawain, but her identity is never explicitly spelled out.) This is, obviously, an implicitly misogynistic setup: an evil woman plays a trick on honorable men for the purpose of upsetting another woman, the honorable men overcome it, the hero survives, and everyone presumably lives happily ever after (at least until Mordred arrives).

Instead, by plunging the outcome into doubt and the hero into a much darker and more fallible moral universe, TGK shifts the blame for Gawain’s adventure and ultimate fate from Morgan to Gawain himself. Likewise, Guinevere is not the passive recipient of an evil deception but in a way, the catalyst for the whole thing. She breaks the seal on the Green Knight’s message with a weighty snap; she becomes the oracle who reads it out, she is alarming rather than alarmed, she disrupts the complacency of the court and silently shows up all the other knights who refuse to step forward and answer the Green Knight’s challenge. Gawain is not given the ontological reassurance that it’s just a practical joke and he’s going to be fine (and thanks to the unresolved ending, neither are we). The film instead takes the concept at face value in order to push the envelope and ask the simple question: if a man was going to be actually-for-real beheaded in a year, why would he set out on a suicidal quest? Would you, in Gawain’s place, make the same decision to cast aside the enchanted belt and accept your fate? Has he made his name, will he be remembered well? What is his legacy?

Indeed, if there is any hint of feminine connivance and manipulation, it arrives in the form of the implication that Gawain’s mother has deliberately summoned the Green Knight to test her son, prove his worth, and position him as his childless uncle’s heir; she gives him the protective belt to make sure he won’t actually die, and her intention all along was for the future shown in the epilogue to truly play out (minus the collapse of Camelot). Only Gawain loses the belt thanks to his cowardice in the encounter with the scavengers, regains it in a somewhat underhanded and morally questionable way when the Lady is attempting to seduce him, and by ultimately rejecting it altogether and submitting to his uncertain fate, totally mucks up his mother’s painstaking dynastic plans for his future. In this reading, Gawain could be king, and his mother’s efforts are meant to achieve that goal, rather than thwart it. He is thus required to shoulder his own responsibility for this outcome, rather than conveniently pawning it off on an “evil woman,” and by extension, the film asks the question: What would the world be like if men, especially those who make war on others as a way of life, were actually forced to face the consequences of their reckless and violent actions? Is it actually a “game” in any sense of the word, especially when chivalric literature is constantly preoccupied with the question of how much glorious violence is too much glorious violence? If you structure social prestige for the king and the noble male elite entirely around winning battles and existing in a state of perpetual war, when does that begin to backfire and devour the knightly class – and the rest of society – instead?

This leads into the central theme of Gawain’s relationships with the Lord and Lady, and how they’re treated in the film. The poem has been repeatedly studied in terms of its latent (and sometimes… less than latent) queer subtext: when the Lord asks Gawain to pay back to him whatever he should receive from his wife, does he already know what this involves; i.e. a physical and romantic encounter? When the Lady gives kisses to Gawain, which he is then obliged to return to the Lord as a condition of the agreement, is this all part of a dastardly plot to seduce him into a kinky green-themed threesome with a probably-not-human married couple looking to spice up their sex life? Why do we read the Lady’s kisses to Gawain as romantic but Gawain’s kisses to the Lord as filial, fraternal, or the standard “kiss of peace” exchanged between a liege lord and his vassal? Is Gawain simply being a dutiful guest by honoring the bargain with his host, actually just kissing the Lady again via the proxy of her husband, or somewhat more into this whole thing with the Lord than he (or the poet) would like to admit? Is the homosocial turning homoerotic, and how is Gawain going to navigate this tension and temptation?

If the question is never resolved: well, welcome to one of the central medieval anxieties about chivalry, knighthood, and male bonds! As I have written about before, medieval society needed to simultaneously exalt this as the most honored and noble form of love, and make sure it didn’t accidentally turn sexual (once again: how much male love is too much male love?). Does the poem raise the possibility of serious disruption to the dominant heteronormative paradigm, only to solve the problem by interpreting the Gawain/Lady male/female kisses as romantic and sexual and the Gawain/Lord male/male kisses as chaste and formal? In other words, acknowledging the underlying anxiety of possible homoeroticism but ultimately reasserting the heterosexual norm? The answer: Probably?!?! Maybe?!?! Hell if we know??! To say the least, this has been argued over to no end, and if you locked a lot of medieval history/literature scholars into a room and told them that they couldn’t come out until they decided on one clear answer, they would be in there for a very long time. The poem seemingly invokes the possibility of a queer reading only to reject it – but once again, as in the question of which canon we end up in at the film’s end, does it?

In some lights, the film’s treatment of this potential queer reading comes off like a cop-out: there is only one kiss between Gawain and the Lord, and it is something that the Lord has to initiate after Gawain has already fled the hall. Gawain himself appears to reject it; he tells the Lord to let go of him and runs off into the wilderness, rather than deal with or accept whatever has been suggested to him. However, this fits with film!Gawain’s pattern of rejecting that which fundamentally makes him who he is; like Peter in the Bible, he has now denied the truth three times. With the scavengers he denies being a knight; with the Lady he denies knowing about courtly love; with the Lord he denies the central bond of brotherhood with his fellows, whether homosocial or homoerotic in nature. I would go so far as to argue that if Gawain does die at the end of the film, it is this rejected kiss which truly seals his fate. In the poem, the Lord and the Green Knight are revealed to be the same person; in the film, it’s not clear if that’s the case, or they are separate characters, even if thematically interrelated. If we assume, however, that the Lord is in fact still the human form of the Green Knight, then Gawain has rejected both his kiss of peace (the standard gesture of protection offered from lord to vassal) and any deeper emotional bond that it can be read to signify. The Green Knight could decide to spare Gawain in recognition of the courage he has shown in relinquishing the enchanted belt – or he could just as easily decide to kill him, which he is legally free to do since Gawain has symbolically rejected the offer of brotherhood, vassalage, or knight-bonding by his unwise denial of the Lord’s freely given kiss. Once again, the film raises the overall thematic and moral question and then doesn’t give one straight (ahem) answer. As with the medieval anxieties and chivalric texts that it is based on, it invokes the specter of queerness and then doesn’t neatly resolve it. As a modern audience, we find this unsatisfying, but once again, the film is refusing to conform to our expectations.

As has been said before, there is so much kissing between men in medieval contexts, both ceremonial and otherwise, that we’re left to wonder: “is it gay or is it feudalism?” Is there an overtly erotic element in Gawain and the Green Knight’s mutual “beheading” of each other (especially since in the original version, this frees the Lord from his curse, functioning like a true love’s kiss in a fairytale). While it is certainly possible to argue that the film has “straightwashed” its subject material by removing the entire sequence of kisses between Gawain and the Lord and the unresolved motives for their existence, it is a fairly accurate, if condensed, representation of the anxieties around medieval knightly bonds and whether, as Carolyn Dinshaw put it, a (male/male) “kiss is just a kiss.” After all, the kiss between Gawain and the Lady is uncomplicatedly read as sexual/romantic, and that context doesn’t go away when Gawain is kissing the Lord instead. Just as with its multiple futurities, the film leaves the question open-ended. Is it that third and final denial that seals Gawain’s fate, and if so, is it asking us to reflect on why, specifically, he does so?

The film could play with both this question and its overall tone quite a bit more: it sometimes comes off as a grim, wooden, over-directed Shakespearean tragedy, rather than incorporating the lively and irreverent tone that the poem often takes. It’s almost totally devoid of humor, which is unfortunate, and the Grim Middle Ages aesthetic is in definite evidence. Nonetheless, because of the comprehensive de-historicizing and the obvious lack of effort to claim the film as any sort of authentic representation of the medieval past, it works. We are not meant to understand this as a historical document, and so we have to treat it on its terms, by its own logic, and by its own frames of reference. In some ways, its consistent opacity and its refusal to abide by modern rules and common narrative conventions is deliberately meant to challenge us: as before, when we recognize Arthur, Merlin, the Round Table, and the other stock characters because we know them already and not because the film tells us so, we have to fill in the gaps ourselves. We are watching the film not because it tells us a simple adventure story – there is, as noted, shockingly little action overall – but because we have to piece together the metatext independently and ponder the philosophical questions that it leaves us with. What conclusion do we reach? What canon do we settle in? What future or resolution is ultimately made real? That, the film says, it can’t decide for us. As ever, it is up to future generations to carry on the story, and decide how, if at all, it is going to survive.

(And to close, I desperately want them to make my much-coveted Bisclavret adaptation now in more or less the same style, albeit with some tweaks. Please.)

Further Reading

Ailes, Marianne J. ‘The Medieval Male Couple and the Language of Homosociality’, in Masculinity in Medieval Europe, ed. by Dawn M. Hadley (Harlow: Longman, 1999), pp. 214–37.

Ashton, Gail. ‘The Perverse Dynamics of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Arthuriana 15 (2005), 51–74.

Boyd, David L. ‘Sodomy, Misogyny, and Displacement: Occluding Queer Desire in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Arthuriana 8 (1998), 77–113.

Busse, Peter. ‘The Poet as Spouse of his Patron: Homoerotic Love in Medieval Welsh and Irish Poetry?’, Studi Celtici 2 (2003), 175–92.

Dinshaw, Carolyn. ‘A Kiss Is Just a Kiss: Heterosexuality and Its Consolations in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Diacritics 24 (1994), 205–226.

Kocher, Suzanne. ‘Gay Knights in Medieval French Fiction: Constructs of Queerness and Non-Transgression’, Mediaevalia 29 (2008), 51–66.

Karras, Ruth Mazo. ‘Knighthood, Compulsory Heterosexuality, and Sodomy’ in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 273–86.

Kuefler, Matthew. ‘Male Friendship and the Suspicion of Sodomy in Twelfth-Century France’, in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 179–214.

McVitty, E. Amanda, ‘False Knights and True Men: Contesting Chivalric Masculinity in English Treason Trials, 1388–1415,’ Journal of Medieval History 40 (2014), 458–77.

Mieszkowski, Gretchen. ‘The Prose Lancelot's Galehot, Malory's Lavain, and the Queering of Late Medieval Literature’, Arthuriana 5 (1995), 21–51.

Moss, Rachel E. ‘ “And much more I am soryat for my good knyghts’ ”: Fainting, Homosociality, and Elite Male Culture in Middle English Romance’, Historical Reflections / Réflexions historiques 42 (2016), 101–13.

Zeikowitz, Richard E. ‘Befriending the Medieval Queer: A Pedagogy for Literature Classes’, College English 65 (2002), 67–80.

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. ��All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin