#keeping track of them and I know more and more characters are yet to appear.

[echos-gal]

I was talking with one of my best friends about Star Wars characters being brought back and the possibility that Tech might return in a future work, and realized that even though TBB has ended, Star Wars has a really high track record of bringing back characters in other works, set after their supposed "death." Basically, no one ever comes back in the same movie/show/work they "died" in:

Maul: "died" in The Phantom Menace, brought back in The Clone Wars.

Gregor: "died" in The Clone Wars, brought back quite some time later in Rebels (and The Bad Batch, which comes first chronologically)

Echo: "died" in The Clone Wars, brought back SEVERAL YEARS LATER in the seventh season (I'm counting this as a separate show because it was not continuous - the show was revived)

Boba Fett: "died" in Return of the Jedi, brought back in The Mandalorian. DECADES LATER.

Asajj Ventress: "died" (died? like actually?) in Dark Disciple, brought back in The Bad Batch

Palpatine: somehow Palpatine returned

I feel like I'm missing some, but you get the point. The only ones I can think of who have died and come back in the same series are Ahsoka in Rebels and Fennec Shand in The Mandalorian.

There are also a couple characters whose fates have been left purposely open in order to have the possibility of bringing them back. Sev from Republic Commando is one who comes to mind. He is left behind in a war zone on a mission, and while Karen Traviss (author of the RepComm books) wanted to continue his story in a novel, Star Wars told her no because they wanted to keep plans open for Sev at a later time. We haven't gotten any additional Sev content yet, but his fate still isn't sealed.

Another is Mace Windu. I know George Lucas was like "he is dead for sure" but fans really want him back and so does Samuel L Jackson. I can see George changing his mind. Windu is a badass and beloved by fans. Another character who "fell," no body no death, and people are pretty adamant about getting him back because they liked him so much.

What I am trying to say is that Tech is a fan-favorite character whose story felt unfinished to many viewers. I'd say most of us were waiting every episode of season 3 for him to return, and the writers know that. Jennifer Corbett is on twitter and is very aware that "Tech Lives" is a huge thing in the Bad Batch fandom.

There are more animated works planned, as well: we know that Omega will likely appear again as an adult. There's like a 95% chance that a clone rebellion series is in the works, considering that they set it up in The Bad Batch. And Nika Futterman has hinted that Ventress will be appearing in future works. Tech could (and SHOULD) be brought back in any of these!

So yeah.... TECH LIVES

[holydramon]

6 episodes into magia record and no one has died horribly this is a scam

[avocad1s]

The Gnosis Can Wait

Requested By: No one. Original work.

CW: 5.0 spoilers below this line!!! 5.0 spoilers below this line! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

Summary: After his battle with Mavuika, Capitano was left injured. He retreats wanting to replan his strategy when he runs into you, the Creator, who had just descended to Teyvat.

Note: So how are you all liking Natlan? As of right now I think it’s okay only because I want to return to Fontaine 😞

Capitano wasn’t used to the taste of defeat.

As number one in the Fatui harbingers and the strongest amongst them no doubt, he is used to winning every match he partakes in. Or for his opponents to concede before the battle even begins.

Yet he doesn’t take it to heart, he knows the outcomes of every battle can differ in many different ways and he isn’t arrogant about his strength.

Mavuika was a God after all. Even though his power rivals hers, he knew he would have to best her with a foolproof strategy and it seemed barging in wasn’t the right one. She was a worthy opponent.

Capitano returns to his camp, the pain in his chest still burning from the small wound Mavuika left on him. He can wait, once his wound heals then he will strike her again, only this time he won’t miss. At least he has an ally in his pocket keeping him up to date on all the politics within Natlan.

“My lord,” Capitano’s right hand, Rezanov begins while bowing. “We found footprints nearby. We believe someone might stumble into camp soon…”

Capitano lets out a sigh underneath his mask, “how many people?”

“We believe only one, there’s only one track of footprints.”

Only one person? Nothing really to worry about. Unless this person is returning to tell the Archon his location.

“Find them and bring them here.” He orders and Rezanov nods and quickly takes off.

———

Okay… don’t freak out. Don’t freak out…

You just woke up in Genshin Impact.

You remember waiting impatiently by your PC for the newest update to the game, but you must’ve fallen asleep while waiting. Now you were dreaming about the it? Jeez, even in your own dreams you thought about the game. You really needed to touch grass. (lol jk jk luv you all)

You were dreaming about Natlan… a nation that you haven’t even played yet. You couldn’t have had a dream about your favorite nation? Or meeting all your favorite characters?

But everything felt so real. Even after watching the trailer and the leaks you’ve seen online, there’s no way you could know such detail about the nation. Maybe it was just your mind filling in the gaps…

“Stop right there!”

You turn around and your blood runs immediately cold. It was two fatui skirmishers and one fatui agent. You don’t even know the amount of times you’ve killed these enemies for their drops or just for the fun of it.

So this is how you die… at least this is better than falling into the claws of Childe, who you’d beat up anytime you built a new character.

“Our lord the Captain will deal with you, come with us with no fight.”

Scratch that. This was much, much worse…

“Wait… isn’t that…?” One of them whispered.

They put down their weapons, looks of remorse on their faces.

“Your Grace… please for give our imprudence we had no idea it was you…” Rezanov. “Please come with us, the Captain would be delighted to see you.”

Right… you’ve read fanfics like this before. Believing you’re their Creator… you wonder if your blood was gold. Perhaps you could check later. For now, you were going to follow them, it’s not like Capitano has appeared in the game you can get a first time look at him.

You follow the trio deeper into the forest, a small fireplace in the distance, you could only assume the Captain would be there.

“My lord, we found who was trailing around camp. Their Grace has decided to bless us with their presence on Teyvat once more.”

Capitano turns around and say nothing for what felt like forever. Even with the helmet, you knew he was staring intently at you.

“Your Grace.” He finally says, his voice much softer than you ever expected. “I am honored to be in your presence.”

He approached, towering over you.

“You three. Fetch Their Grace some food—“ he looks down at you once more. “And a change of clothes.”

You feel embarrassment creep up your neck. What’s wrong with your pajamas? Could he tell they weren’t from this word?

He holds out his hand, and you take it being able to feel the warmth underneath the glove. This dream was much realer than you thought…

Capitano leads you to his large tent holding the flaps open so you could enter. “We weren’t expecting your arrival so I apologize for the lack of preparations…”

You shake your head, “everything is fine.” Not like you’d be here forever…

“You can have my tent You Grace, I will camp outside.” He adds.

You furrow your eyebrows, “this tent is big enough for two people, can’t we just share it?”

Capitano doesn’t say nothing for a moment, you fear you’ve might’ve offended him with your offer but it was the complete opposite. Capitano felt as if he was on top of the world, to share a camp with the Creator? To be able to protect you? To see your sleeping face…

He feels his cheeks grow crimson and he is eternally grateful for his helmet. “Of course, if that’s what you wish Your Grace…”

The flaps to the tent open and Rezanov enters the tent. “My lord, we've received word that the Pyro Archon has lost much of her power.”

“Although your injury complicates things, this is most certainly the opportune time to seize the Gnosis...”

Capitano was slightly irritated with his subordinate’s unwarranted entry but he wouldn’t do anything yet, not while you were right in front of him.

“The Gnosis can wait, we have more important matters…” he replies, his focus never leaving you.

© avocad1s 2024

Note: Capitano was the highlight of Natlan for me. Sorry but i’m a Fatui Harbinger glazer 😞 why’d they make them so fine? It’s not fair… Now here’s to hoping my man is playable, saving all my primos for him so he better not disappoint.

Edit: I know Mavuika isn’t a God but I’m thinking Capitano wouldn’t know that since she’s the only one of the Seven that isn’t a one which is where I went with this fic

[archaeren]

Hello!! I hope you're having a good day ^^ I came across your post about writing non-linearly on Notion and I'm excited to try it out because the advice resonated with me! Though, I'm really new to using the app and, if possible, need help with how to do this part: 'where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry.' ;v;

Hello! Thank you so much for messaging!!! Since that post about writing non-linearly (linked for context) blew up roughly ten thousand times as much as anything I've ever posted, I've been kind of meaning to make a followup post explaining more about how I use Notion for writing non-linearly, but, you know, ADHD, so I haven't done it yet. XD In the meantime, I'll post a couple screenshots of my current long fic with some explanations! I'd make this post shorter, but I'm unable to not be Chatty. XD (just ask my poor readers how long my author notes are...) (There is a phone app as well which syncs with the desktop/browser versions, but I work predominantly in the desktop app so that's what I'm gonna be showing)

(the table keeps going off the right side of the image but it's a bunch of unimportant stuff tbh) So this is more complicated than what you'll probably start with because I'm Normal and add a bunch of details that you might not need depending on what you're doing. For example, my fic switches POVs so I have a column for tracking that, and my fic follows a canon timeline so I have a column for dates so I can keep track of them, and I also made columns for things like if a scene had spoilers or certain content readers may want to avoid, which they can access in my spoiler and content guide for the fic. (As I said, I'm Normal.) I also do some complicated stuff using Status and estimated wordcount stuff to get an idea of how long I predict the content to be, but again, not necessary. Anyway, you don't need any of that. For the purposes of this explanation, we're just gonna look at the columns I have called Name, Order, and Status. (And one called Part, but we'll get into that later) Columns in Notion have different types, such as Text, Numbers, Select, Date, etc, so make sure to use the type that works best for the purpose of each column! For example, here I'm using Select for Character POVs, Number for Order and WC (wordcount), and Text for the In-Game Date. Okay let's get into it! Name is a column that comes in a Notion table by default, and you can't get rid of it (which drives me up the wall for some purposes but works totally fine for what we're doing here). As you can see on the scene I've labeled 'roll call', if you hover over a Name entry, a little button called 'Open' appears, which you click on to open the document that's inside the table. That's all default, you don't have to set anything up for it. Here's a screenshot of what it looks like when I click the one titled 'I will be anything for you' (I've scrolled down in the screenshot so you can see the text, but all the data fields also appear at the top of the page)

(This view is called 'side peek' meaning the document opens on one side and you can still see the table under it on the left, which is what mine defaults to. But you can set it to 'center peek' or 'full page' as well.) All my scenes have their own entry like this! Note that I've said scenes, not chapters. I decide the chapters later by combining the scenes in whatever combination feels right, which means I can often decide in advance where my chapter endings will be. This helps me consciously give most of my endings more impact than I was usually able to do when I tried to write linearly. So hopefully that gives you an idea of what I mean by writing inside the table and treating the table as a living outline. The 'Status' column is also pretty straightforward, and might require a little setup for whatever your needs are. This is another default column type Notion has which is similar to a Select but has a few more specialized features. This is how mine is set up:

(I don't actually use 'Done', idk why I left it there. Probably I should replace it with 'Posted' and use that instead of the checkmark on the far left? whatever, don't let anyone tell you I'm organized. XDD)

Pretty straightforward, it just lets me see easily what's complete and what still needs work. (You'll notice there's no status for editing, because like I mentioned in my other post, I don't ever sit down to consciously edit, I just let it happen as I reread) Obviously tailor this to your own needs! The Order column is sneakily important, because this is what makes it easy for me to keep the scenes organized. I set the Sort on the table to use the Order to keep the scene ordered chronologically. When I make the initial list of scenes I know the fic will have, I give all of them a whole number to put them in order of events. Then as I write and come up with new scene ideas, the new scenes get a number with a decimal point to put them in the spot they fit in the timeline. (you can't see it here, but some of them have a decimal three or four digits deep, lol). Technically you can drag them to the correct spot manually, but if you ever create another View in your table (you can see I have eight Views in this one, they're right under the title) it won't keep your sorting in the new View and you'll hate yourself when it jumbles all your scenes. XD (And if you get more comfortable with Notion, you probably will at some point desire to make more Views) The Part column isn't necessary, but I found that as the fic grew longer, I was naturally separating the scenes into different points along the timeline by changes in status quo, etc. (ex. "this is before they go overseas" "this is after they speak for the first time", stuff like that) in my mind. To make it easier to decide where to place new scenes in the timeline, I formalized this into Parts, which initially I named with short summaries of the current status quo, and later changed to actual titles because I decided it would be cool to actually use them in the fic itself. Since it's not in the screenshots above, here's what the dropdown for it looks like:

(I've blocked some of the titles out for spoiler reasons)

Basically I only mention the Parts thing because I found it was a useful organizational tool for me and I was naturally doing it in my head anyway. Anyway, I could keep talking about this for a really long time because I love Notion (don't get me started on how I use toggle blocks for hiding content I've edited out without deleting it) but that should be enough to get started and I should really, you know, not make this another insanely long post. XDD And if anybody is curious about how the final results look, the fic can be found here.

[mobbu-min]

☆ grandma's best friend ☆

summary: in which you’re tasked with picking up your grandma after her knitting club and can’t help but fall in love with the handsome man sat right beside her.

a/n had this in the wip hell for forever. i was going to add azul but.... i have the hardest time writing him, so maybe he'll appear in another piece. also this takes place after they have graduated from nrc!

characters trey clover, deuce spade, jack howl, silver & lilia vanrouge

tw cursing

 Despite living in the same house with your grandma since the day you were born, there were still plenty of things you didn’t know about her. And truthfully you weren't one to pry into her, what you considered, pretty mundane life. Early morning walks, baking a mountain of cookies and breads and watching soap operas weren’t really your things. 

 So not once, never in your life, did you expect that you’d be stopped dead in your tracks the moment you entered through the glass doors of your grandma’s friend's sunroom. It was supposed to be a knitting class for older women, right?

 Well, apparently your grandma decided to be super mean and not tell you about the absolute hunk that came every week. 

 You watched from the entry as he laughed along with your grandma. It was like you could hear church bells in the distance. You instantly could tell with the way your grandma and the other ladies flocked to him and talked so sweetly to him that they were absolutely smitten with him. 

 As if sensing your rising temperature, your grandma turned her head around and waved you over. “What are you doing all the way over there? Come here, sweetie.”

 You suddenly felt so shy and quickly averted your gaze. Your stomach doing backflips the closer you got. Why did you feel like you were going to explode?

 As your grandma introduced you, you peaked up at him only to freeze in place the moment your gaze caught his. And the moment his lips stretched into the prettiest, most dazzling smile you’ve ever seen, you knew you were down bad. 

 Like really bad.

Trey Clover <3

⋆ Trey Clover, the baker’s son. Everyone knew him as a kind and gentle soul. You’ve known him since you were young, going to the same elementary school as him and his feline friend, however that all you were. Simply classmates and your desire to know him outside of that was zero to none.

⋆ So safe to say, you haven’t seen him since he was a preteen and suddenly the image of a lanky, nerdy looking boy with a shy smile dispersed when you saw him.

⋆ Tall, strong and handsome, not to mention a fine looking ass. He’s definitely changed since you last saw him. And suddenly, all the older women talking about trying to hook up their daughters with the baker’s son suddenly made a lot more sense. He was the definition of husband material.

⋆ And you were determined to make him yours.

☆☆☆

“Hopefully you remember my granddaughter, I know she can blend into the crowds easily.” You grandma laughed joyfully and despite her fraile statue, the heaviness of her hands persisted causing you to stumble forwards.

Chuckling awkwardly, you smiled crookedly at Trey who smiled easily at your grandma’s antics, seemingly used to it. Placing a large, yet comforting, hand on your shoulder he steady you, “Don’t worry, Mrs. (l/n), I have a pretty strong memory.”

“Hmpf, and hopefully you keep it then, lest you end up like your grandmother over there.” Your grandma jabbed playfully at the chubby woman who glared softly in her direction.

And yet despite your best attempt to listen to the both of them bicker back and forth, the warmth sweeping through your thin sweater was enough to keep your attention on the young man. Catching your gaze, Trey’s honey eyes twinkled with curiosity, “Hey, (y/n), it’s been awhile.”

Like water hitting oil, your heart exploded into thousands of little sparks the second your name rolled off his tongue. How can one person sound so sweet? Like sugar and sprinkles and everything sweet? It was not far!

“Hehe, yeahhh.” You drawled out, your cheeks ablaze and hot to the touch. Doing your best to reign in your heart eyes, you coughed into your fist and smiled sweetly at him, “H-how have you been? Last I checked you were in dentistry school, right?”

Scratching his nape, Trey hummed, “I was, but after my dad hurt his back I came back to help with the bakery. It didn’t feel right to leave my mom to take care of the bakery, my dad and siblings all by herself.”

Ah, a family man, how nice, you cooed internally. Now, you haven’t thought of settling down anytime soon, but for him? Your ass is sat.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Trey. That sounds horrible.” You said with full sincerity, your heart aching for him. “Have you thought about going back though?”

“I’ve thought about it, but…” His gaze roamed around the room filled with elderly ladies laughing and joking around, to them greeting their partners with warm welcomes and honey eyes, until settling back to you. Mirth swam through his pretty eyes, “I kinda like it here.”

Your heart, the romantic thing it was, was set zooming into the sky and exploding into fireworks. While you knew it was merely coincidence that you just happened to be here and asked that particular question, it was all you needed to decide that whatever future Trey wanted was one you were going to be a part of.

The world can call you whatever, a romantic, a simp, you didn’t care.

Tilting your head, you smiled sweetly at him, “Yeah, I do too.”

This was going to be your happily ever after.

Deuce Spade <3

⋆ It took you a second to recognize the boy that struggled to untangle the yarn on his lap, but the moment his wide blue eyes scanned the room to see how far behind he was, you knew.

⋆ Deuce Spade, the former bad boy turned honorary magical student.

⋆ You wouldn’t say that you didn't like him, more like you don’t know him. Your paths never really crossed, with him always skipping school and all. Though you did always have a soft spot for him, afterall he would consistently turn a blind eye every time you snuck out of p.e.

⋆ And you couldn’t deny the tiny crush you had on him either. Something about his bad boy behavior that made your young nerdy heart swoon.

⋆ So who could blame you for blushing the moment he laid eyes on you.

☆☆☆

 Pretty, was the first thought that crossed your mind. Also, that he looked a lot like his mom, who you’ve tried to get with multiple times before hand. Sadly your homemade lunches and pathetic attempts at flirting did nothing to convince her to give you a chance. However it did convince her not to bill you every time she had to fix up your old beaten up car. 

 He looked a lot older too. His big bright blue eyes, a little narrower yet still glowing like the sun shining down on the sea. His soft cheeks were gone, a lot more slender and mature, yet he still maintained that youthful pink hue to the apple of his cheeks. And if you looked closely enough you could see the black ink of tattoos peeking out of his cerulean sweater. 

 You could feel your cheeks blossom into the all too familiar hue of the cherry blossoms that grew outside the windows. You hoped your makeup would mask the heat radiating off your cheeks. Clutching onto the straps of your bag, you shuffled towards your grandma, who stared at you with knowing eyes. Curses, I should have never left my diary where she could see it. 

 Just as you opened your mouth to greet your grandma, your breath hitched. It was like you were staring into the ocean, the glimmers in his eyes like clear waters. You were in awe at how a simple look from a guy you haven’t seen in ages could leave you so breathless. 

 A sharp jab to your ribs quickly ripped you out of whatever shoujo-esque moment you were having. Crumbling over, you gingerly held your side and wheezed. Your grandma, the blunt old lady she is, paid your suffering no mind and was quick to chastise you. “Goodness (y/n), have I not taught you nothing? It’s rude to stare.”

 Like a knight you’ve read about in plenty of romance novels back in your preteens and teens (even now honestly), he came to your rescue. 

 “It’s alright, I don’t mind Mrs. (l/n).” You could hear your grandma huff and turn away, probably to gossip with the other ladies. Despite her old age, her strength has yet to fail her and her elbows were, unfortunately, sharp. Yet, all that pain disappeared with a gentle touch to your shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

 Raising your head, your eyes widened at the closeness between you both. You were sure at this point your makeup did nothing to help the ever darkening color of your face. If anything it was probably being wiped off with how much you were sweating. 

 Laughing nervously, you shook your head and smiled, “Y-yeah, I’m good. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

 Amusement danced in his eyes. Rubbing at his own side, he nodded along, “Tell me about it, she sure packs a punch.” Familiarity sparkled across his features, “(y/n), right? You were a grade above me?”

 “Yup, it’s been awhile, Deuce.” Sitting in your grandma’s spot, you took one of the sweet strawberry jam cookies and popped it in your mouth.”What have you been up to lately?”

 Sitting down, Deuce hummed, “You know, uni and stuff. Studying isn’t really my forte, but I’m trying hard.”

 “Making your mom proud?” You teased softly. With how often you were over at her house, you heard plenty of stories of his recent endeavors. Not to mention, you could never get over how fondly she spoke of her only son. The type of love and proudness that was totally unique to her. 

 Sighing, Deuce ran a hand through his hair, “I sure hope so…”

 Punching his shoulders, you scoffed, “Oh, c’mon Deuce, give yourself more credit. You're practically the light of her life. No matter what happens, she’ll always be proud of you.”

 Warmth flooded his gaze at your words. Despite knowing that, it was always nice to hear it said out loud. Playing with the loose threads of his sweater, he easily turned the conversation around, “Uh, but what about you? My mom says you're at the house every week to get your car fixed.”

 “Oh, yeah…haha…” You laughed bashfully, praying to the Sevens that she didn’t mention your flirting. Placing a finger on your chin, you stared up at the ceiling, “I’ve been good. I work at the local tattoo shop as a receptionist. I’m hoping that Mr. Stevens will finally accept my portfolio, but from the looks of things…I think I’m better off trying to get an apprenticeship in the city.”

 Nodding along, Deuce grinned, “I remember you always doodling on everything. I’m surprised you didn’t try…um…professional painting? Is that a thing? Like galleries and stuff?”

 “I wanted to, but it was too expensive. Tattooing though? Pretty accessible money wise, it’s just a pain in the ass to get someone to take you under their wing.” You sighed tiredly. Shrugging your shoulders, you turned your gaze to Deuce and grinned, “I guess we’ve both been busy trying to make something of ourselves huh?”

 “Yeah, I guess we are.”

 Hearing your grandma call out your name, you knew your conversation had to come to its end. Rising up, you fixed your bag and offered Deuce a soft smile. 

 “It was nice talking to you again. I’m kinda sad it was cut short.”

 Scratching his cheek, he averted his eyes, “Well…it doesn't have too.”

 Tilting your head, you looked at him in confusion. Something warm and electric blooming in your chest. 

 Reaching into his pocket, he took out his phone and offered it to you. Smiling nervously, he stuttered, “L-let’s exchange numbers and if you aren’t too busy, let’s get some drinks sometime this week.”

 It was like thousands of angels came down from heaven at his proposal. This was everything your little preteen heart had ever wanted, and who were you to deny her?

 “That sounds like fun!”

Jack Howl <3

(reader is a wolf beastmen too!)

⋆ Muscles….

⋆ So many muscles…

⋆ You could feel your knees quiver and threaten to crumble under your weight. You’ve seen plenty of muscular people in your life, but never one with such a gentle touch as him. The way he held the croquet needle was as if he was afraid he’d break it with his full force.

⋆ To the gentle sway of his fluffy snow white tail told you everything you needed to know about him.

☆☆☆

You considered taping your own tail against your leg with how fast it wagged behind you. Don’t be fooled, you loved who you were, but you didn’t love how easy it was for others to decipher your emotions through the simple beat of your tail. And it appears that, no matter how hard you try to feign a cool and mysterious persona, everyone could see how much of a dork you were by simply looking behind you.

Your grandma stifled her own chuckles behind a wrinkled hand, “Jack, this is my granddaughter, (y/n). I hope you can both get along.”

Both of your ears perked up the moment your eyes caught his, golden like the sun surrounded by fluffy white clouds. Again, your grandma giggled and busied herself with other matters. Deciding to let fate take charge.

Nodding your head, you smiled shyly, “It’s nice to meet you, Jack. It’s not often I meet other wolf beastmen here.”

You liked to think that's why you were so excited, and certainly not because he was practically your dream guy. Oh Sevens, it felt like you were in a dream. You wished you wouldn’t wake up.

Jack nodded, his expression stoic, but much like yourself, his curiosity was clearly shown by the twitch of his ear and wag of his fluffy tail. You instantly realized he wasn’t much for talking. Typically with anyone else, you’d find it awkward, but with Jack, you found yourself at ease.

Leaning against the window frame, you gestured to his green and brick brown coasters, “I like your coasters, they're so pretty. Are they for anyone in particular?”

Shaking his head, he moved besides you, “No, it’s actually for me. I thought it would look nice underneath my cactuses.”

His voice was deep, but not too deep that made you shudder, deep and smooth like you were floating through a river. A steady beat unlike your heart. From your spot you could smell his cologne, a light sandalwood fragrance that mixed well with his natural woodsy scent.

Humming softly, you pulled your tail to your lap to prevent it from hitting him and gently ran your fingers through the soft fur, “Cactuses, huh? You must take very good care of them.”

“I do. They seem easy to care for, but they need a strict schedule to make sure they grow strong.” Jack said proudly. A smirk that sent your heart into cardiac arrest present on his clear brown skin. And then as if he suddenly remembered something, he looked down almost bashfully, “And well, some are also for my family.”

Ugh, he just keeps on getting more and more perfect! You internally squealed. Calming yourself, you asked, “That’s nice of you. Handmade things from the heart is always the best. Is that why you’re taking these classes? I typically don’t see guys like you willingly hanging out in a place like this.”

Leaning his head back, Jack thought, “I thought this would broaden my horizons. Knitting and crocheting requires patience and discipline. So in turn that would help me out when I work out.”

“Training the mind, while training the body!”

“Mh-hm.” Glancing down at you, he grinned, “I’m glad you understand. The guys in my work out group were jerks about it.”

Grinning, you gently nudged him with your elbow, “They sound like a bunch of airheads then.”

Jack chuckled under his breath. They type of laugh that would have every head turning. The type of laugh that you would hear rarely, like a special treat. The type of laugh you knew you wanted for yourself.

Right then and there, you decided you were going to do your hardest to make him yours.

Silver <3

⋆ Beautiful, stunning, angelic, you could go on.

⋆ The boy in front of you was straight out of a romance novel. The knight perhaps, judging by his build. But his face totally screams prince.

⋆ You could feel your heart racing in your chest that it was almost painful.

⋆ And dear sevens, he just smiled.

⋆ Yeah, you were screwed.

☆☆☆

“I am so sorry!” You apologized profusely, hastily taking out napkins from your bag to dap onto his soft pastel blue sweater. Searing heat painted your face. Pure embarrassment piercing your chest.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He said softly, gently prying your shaking hands away. “Things like this happen, no need to get so worked up about it.”

If this was any other instance where you weren’t fighting your demons, you would be swooning and thinking to yourself that your dreams of becoming the main character of a shoujo anime finally came true. But no, the world hates you. So you were having a difficult time not feeling bad, especially when his sweaters looked so…

Expensive… you sighed internally, trying your best not to eye the large weird shaped blob staining his chest. “Still, I am incredibly sorry. Maybe I can pay for dry cleaning?”

A smile, soft and so, so, so pretty, formed on his face. A gentle shake of head caused his silky silver hair to fall delicately across his clear glasslike skin, you weren’t sure if you were feeling awe or envy at this point. With an amused tone that held no annoyance, he reassured, “I told you it was okay, didn’t I? I’m not mad at all, so you shouldn’t feel bad.”

Then his smile fell. Looking crestfallen, he sighed, “If anything, I should apologize. Your coffee is all gone now.”

Immediately alarm bells began to ring all throughout your head. A boy as pretty and nice as him should never be sad, it said. Fix it, it demanded.

Holding up your empty cup, you laughed nervously, hoping to ease his imaginary burden. “No, no! I have so much left! See!” A sad single drop touched your lip. You wanted to end it all.

Despite your pure hatred for the world right now, the boy in front of you found it funny. Or maybe he was pitying you. Either way you’re taking it as a win.

Covering your mouth with your hand, you laughed alongside him, “Maybe if I was an ant, then maybe that would have been enough.”

Clearing his throat, he gazed softly at you and held out his hand, “I’m Silver.”

Without missing a beat, you shook his hand, “(y/n). It’s nice to meet you, Silver.”

“Likewise.” Leaning against the wall, he asked, “What brings you here?”

Perking up, you swayed back and forth on the balls of your heels, “I’m here to pick up by grandma. Though she’s typically not this late.”

You spared your phone a glance. She was twenty minutes late. You would have gone in to see, but last time she scolded you big time. You weren’t really in the mood to deal with her nasty temper.

Silver nodded. “Me too. I came to get my father, but it seems like the class is running longer then expected. -sigh- I shouldn’t have fallen asleep earlier.”

“You feel asleep?” You asked with a light laugh.

Pink dusted his face and his auroral eyes stared up at the sky, “Yes. It’s a bad habit I’ve had for a long time. Anyways, I was supposed to attend today, but well…”

His bashful expression made your heart swoon. Was it possible for a angel to look any more angelic? Apparently yes, judging by the way the sun perfectly hit his features and the sudden appearances of birds and little critters.

“It happens. I was supposed to come too, but I spent too much time getting ready that my grandma left without me. Something about her having to get there early.” She has been acting so strange lately, you hoped she wasn’t getting sick.

“Odd, my father had to get here early too.” Silver hummed, remembering the way his father buzzed in excitement.

A few seconds passed by in silence. Mulling over each other words, you both began to piece together the reasons for their odd behaviors. Looking up at Silver, you gasped.

“You don’t think…”

“Perhaps…”

As if answering your questions, the doors to your grandmother’s friends sunroom burst opened. Followed by her friend’s exasperated yells and two gleeful gigglings. Spinning around the both of your gasped.

“I told you both! Next time I catch you guys kissing in my sunroom, I’m kicking you out!” She huffed.

“Ehehe, Mrs. Eliza no need to get so pent up! We were merely getting acquainted!” The small, youthful looking fae giggled. Hugging your grandmother from behind.

“Acquainted! In my sunroom?!” She gasped indignantly. Her face was hot in anger.

“You’re just mad I’m getting more action than you have in the past 30 years!” Your grandmother cackled, kissing the fae’s cheeks lovingly.

Before the older lady could lift her broom up to wack your grandmother, Silver stepped fowards with an apologetic smile, “Ms, I’m so sorry for my father’s behavior.”

Instantly her anger died down at the angelic boy. Her frown turning into a sweet smile. “Oh, you sweet boy. No need to apologize for your father. Goodness, how did that thing even raise such a sweet boy like yourself.”

Despite Silver's smile, you noticed the way his fist clenched at his side. You rose a brow at him. Ignorant to his quiet anger, she waved the two older figures off. “Just get out of here.”

Once she was outta sight, they both burst out in laughter. Holding each other up as their lungs expelled any air left. All of your grandma’s odd behavior suddenly made sense.

“What the heck?” You finally said, earning their attention. Pointing to the mischievous looking fae, you asked, “This is why you’ve been getting home late? Because you were getting…getting…”

“My freak on.” Your grandma giggled. You suddenly regretted setting up her tik tok account.

Placing at hand on Silver’s shoulder, you gagged, “Oh god, I’m going to puke.”

“Oh please, no need for your theatrics dear.” Your grandma hushed, already making her way to your car. Over her shoulder, she jabbed, “Unless your jealous that I got a boyfriend before you!”

You gasped so loud that it made Silver jump. “Grandma!”

The fae, floated towards your grandma and kissed her cheek. Rubbing her shoulders, he grinned, “Now dear, don’t be so harsh on the youngin’s. I fear it’s a common issue among them all.”

Silver bristled next to you. His cheeks heated up at his father’s remark. Romance has never been his top priority.

“Do you hear them, Silver! They’re mocking us!” You hissed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“I hear them loud and clear.” He sighed. Looking at the fae, Silver asked, “Father, I never expected to find out you were seeing someone. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

His magenta eye widened at the hurt in his son’s voice. You and your grandma looked at him quizzically. Placing a hand on Silver’s arm, you rubbed it reassuringly. And definitely not because you could feel his toned and defined muscles.

“Ah, well your old man is entitled to his secrets.” Pointing to your grandma, he added, “Like my dearest!”

“I never kept it a secret. She just never asked, Lilia.” Your grandma retorted.

All three pairs of eyes fell on you. Suddenly finding your shoes the most interesting thing in the world, you chuckled stiffly, “Well…she's not wrong…”

Shaking her head, your grandma offered joyfully, “How about a nice cup of tea and muffins to settle things out!” Then nudging, who you now know as, Lilia, she winked, “We might not be the only one’s in a relationship soon enough.”

Catching her drift, he eyed the both of you playfully, “Ohoho! Oh lovely. I’ve always wanted grandchildren.”

Confusion fluttered through your features. Looking at each other, you were suddenly very much aware of the lack of space between you both. Jumping back, you both stared at each other bashfully. Your grandma and Silver’s father’s laughter floating in the distance. Your heart drumming against your rib cage at Silver’s shy face.

Sevens, I think I’m going to die!

[bluexiao]

#his secret lover 

— just a series where you are their secret lover… but you didn’t know because you weren’t from teyvat after all! (until you have memories of him and you every time you two touch) 

CHARACTERS. self aware! Isekai! gn! Reader; Al-Haitham, Heizou, Tighnari, Scaramouche / Wanderer

THEMES. light sagau (self aware genshin au), isekai, fluff/crack, questionable but real established relationship, suggestive (light and in a few of them…), domestic (kind of inspired by several manhwas lmao), light angst on Tighnari’s?? 

NOTES. I planned for this to be a series so yep if there is anyone else you want me to cover, just hmu. 

SCARAMOUCHE / WANDERER

You have to give him all the props, he had hidden you quite well. 

Even as he was a Fatui Harbinger of a high enough ranking–for others, he was able to keep your identity a secret. Thus, the moment you opened your eyes and found yourself in the land of Teyvat without even knowing, you didn’t know about this. 

Being transported to Inazuma was one thing that did take you a whileto notice until you came face to face with the tracks to Mt. Yougou and officially got to know a Yae Miko–an individual everyone seemed to have great respect for and the fox ears and tail were ones you have never seen in a person ever–at least not one that looked so real and looked exactly like a character in a game you’ve played in! 

What Yae Miko and you talked about came in a blur because you were too much in your head, thinking about how everything suddenly made sense but didn’t at the same time. Yet you did uncover something in your identity in such a small conversation–it was that she knew you. Very well, that is. You felt that it was weird for her to suddenly come up and talk to you all of a sudden, all the more when she asked how you and your lover were–you almost let out a “Who in the world is my lover-Wait, I have one?!” but you managed to shut yourself up and said that you two were doing alright. Biggest mistake of your life. 

The moment you saw Scaramouche, you didn’t even recognize him. He wore such different clothes that you barely had the time to stare and get a grip, not until he was right in front of you–actually, he marched right in front of you. 

“Wash that stupid look on your face, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

For a moment, you were dumbfounded over the fact that he looked exactly like Scaramouche but not at all–was it the clothes? Or was it the soft look on his face that he kept on for a few seconds until he wipes it off—and you didn’t even have much time to respond before he adds on. 

“And that fox is acting weirdly, did you say anything to her? Don’t tell me you slipped up and told her that you’re seeing me,” he sends you a look and your mind goes in spirals all the more. 

You’re seeing who now?! 

Seeing as you haven’t answered him yet and you were merely staring at him, this time, a different expression comes across his face, disappearing as fast as it had appeared. 

“What in the world has gotten into you?” his voice turns softer this time, “is something wrong?” 

He will actually end up pulling you aside and interrogating you for what had happened. That is! Until you remembered everything! The moment he held your hand, every single memory you have had with him came rushing in and you became dizzy that he will suddenly decide to just take you home. 

You now came to recall everything that had occurred and everything fell into place, only now, you had memories of your memories in your real life–or was it really real??—back on Earth whilst having memories of your life in Teyvat. You remember receiving secret letters from Scaramouche and hearing all about his plans, and it momentarily stopped only to receive one yesterday, stating that he would come back home finally. 

You still weren’t sure if you would tell him this is a game… but what is the use though? You haven’t gone through this timeline as well…

“Kuni… I lived two lives.” For some reason, it didn’t sit well for you to keep anything from him–it seems so wrong, so…weird. A month ago, he was just a character in a game you were playing for quite some time and now, he was here, right in front of you. 

His lips were on your cheek as he takes a breath and the air hits your skin, tickling you ever so slightly. 

“Is that so?” you couldn’t tell if he was taking you seriously or not, even more so when you felt him encircle his hands on your waist and pull you closer to his face, where you could meet his eyes that narrowed and the corners of his lips quirk up, “then have you kissed someone else in your other life? Other than me?” 

You heard the slight pause in between his questions and felt him lean closer to you. “Do they kiss you as good as I do?” 

Actually, he meant to ask if you loved someone else other than him or not, but no, he can’t let you think of someone else when you have him right beside you. And besides… if you had another life, then that means he has nothing to worry about in this life… right? 

That thought haunts him every night. 

AL-HAITHAM

Being in a relationship with The Scribe is a big thing already. And all the more so with a person like him. 

After all, it is not so much of a secret that he does bear a good appearance, albeit his personality, he was someone who was particularly popular to ladies and men alike. Maybe for different reasons but most were the same. 

For you, one look at him and you could tell that everyone was right–he really was attractive, but no one would have the guts to come near him with his presence alone. You were only getting used to being transported into this world when you came across the Akademiya and he so suddenly passed by you. You couldn’t stop yourself from admitting that eye contact with him sent shivers down your spine and made you momentarily freeze in place. Even more so when he oh-so conveniently greeted you with a small smirk. 

“Good morning, Y/n,” it was a ghost of a smile–it almost seemed like it was just a sight only for you. 

Only, it was the truth, and you found out about it when you opened the door to your “home” and saw the face of the person that almost made you have a heart attack just moments ago. 

“Oh-I mean, hi! Uhm-” you struggled to formulate anything else from your mouth that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. You wanted to ask him why he was at your door when he chuckled right at you. When you openly stared at him, however, you could see his brow suddenly raise in confusion. 

“Y/n… as far as I like the attention and seeing your flustered face, I am not that much interested in holding a staring contest against you at the door to our home,” he clearly was caught off guard as he clears his throat and looks away, “your home… pardon me for forgetting.” 

He will definitely feel like something had happened to make you act quite weirdly, but he would not come up with a conclusion so suddenly, however, as he is beginning to gather up his observations, you eventually return back to “normal”, where you don’t freeze up whenever he shows up in front of you, or whenever he tries to lean in for a kiss, or any other physical intimacy that you seem to stutter about. 

Actually, for him, it did feel like you were back in your past self–easily getting flustered or embarrassed. For you, though, the memories that the “Teyvat You” had accumulated slowly but surely came to you each day you spent with Al-Haitham, almost too calculative that you felt like everything that had happened seemed to be much more real than the “Earth You”. 

And because of this, you begin to open up to your lover about your experience and decided to ask for his opinion. With all the time you had spent with him, you became much more comfortable with having to talk to him without stuttering and enough for you to tell the truth of your identity–but not enough to tell him that this world is merely inside a game. Fortunately, he would not be able to figure this out as this is something very unpresidential. 

“Are you saying that another soul… but it’s still you… entered this body, and now you have memories of you here, as well as you back in your world,” he did not seem to end it in a question, more like a demand for you to tell him more or for you to explain it to him clearly without having a hard time to do so yourself–he could not really blame you… it is not such a “normal” occurrence that even he wouldn’t be able to explain himself if it had happened to him, not that he would be as inaccurate as you are. 

He does try to help you uncover the truth and adjust well! After all, he is quite thirsty for knowledge (as much as you were to hi-) and there would be no things left unturned, especially considering that it was about you. 

He does find it odd whenever you do a couple of things that you did not use to do—such as say a couple of words that are not in Teyvat’s vocabulary, from what he knows of—but he eventually grows accustomed to them, just as quick as you become accustomed to this “new life”—or it wasn’t really. 

He does ask you a couple of questions (a LOT) about how your life was in the other world. You tell him of all the technologies and inventions you came to know and well you should not be that much surprised if he ends up covering them for his research or whatever. So do make sure to keep some of that knowledge to yourself! 

TIGHNARI

The moment you wake, you found yourself lying in the middle of the forest, all alone, yet surrounded by mushrooms that you knew for sure you had never seen before. 

They had brighter shades, compared to the ones you normally eat, which means-

“Are they poisonous? Or worse…” you mutter to yourself, horrified as you look at each of the mushrooms. Then everything turns black. 

When you wake again, you were greeted by a different view–a hut, precisely… or it seems like it. You had a familiar feeling set in once you looked around you, however, but as soon as you heard the slightest bit of movement, you instinctively closed your eyes, pretending to be asleep. 

“No point trying to act like you’re still unconscious, Y/n, you may open your eyes.” 

The voice—it felt too familiar that even if you wanted to pretend a little bit more, you couldn’t help but be curious–why was it even familiar when-

Your jaw fell and your mouth hang open as soon as you came face to face with him–a man with long ears (fox ears? What are they-A fennec? Why does he look like… someone…) and his sense of fashion being… quite an eh- 

“Huh? What is it? Is there something on my face?” 

Now that you had heard his voice again, you came to realize that he does sound like the same person he looks very much alike to–Tighnari from that game you’ve played. 

What in the- 

“I must be dreaming right now, aren’t I?”

He sends a look at you and with crossed arms, says, “If you were, I can say I’m quite flattered to have you dream about me, but you are not dreaming so my gratitude is rather useless.” 

And as he casually tries to check your temperature and your vitals, his touch makes you jump with a sudden “memory” that you two apparently had… of the times he took care of you after you appear to have been either injured or came across some weird mushrooms–which also seems to be the case this time around. 

“What is it? Did it hurt when I touched you?” He does notice this and does not hesitate to ask you, but with all that was happening, you failed to notice the concerned look in his eyes but it did not stop the pressure that was building in your chest—so you lied. “No… I’m fine, just a bit jumpy… ‘s all.” 

He may raise a brow at this but he brushes it off, and in the end, you might not be able to say the truth to him because… well, you didn’t have a chance! Every time you try to do so, it’s either he holds your hand or you hold his and a memory pops up and everything in your plan gets messed up! 

He’s sort of a physical lover. You wouldn’t be able to believe it either, especially since you didn’t really know much about him until you came here and realized that it actually makes a lot of sense for him to be so. 

He initiates a lot of it too! So much so that whenever you feel his tail wrap around your arm or your waist or him trying to request of you to pet his ears… you feel a little guilty somehow. 

In the end, you were keeping something from him… and you still haven’t told it yet. 

HEIZOU

You had just woken up and minutes later, you were stuck in a rather… awkward conversation. 

“Are you saying… I’m in Teyvat?! And you’re Heizou?!” 

The boy in front of you has a furrowed brow as he crosses his arms over your chest, “Hm? Where else should you be except for here? Right beside me?” he grins at the momentary victory of having to come up with a way to try and fluster you, but apparently, this time, it wasn’t working. 

He, above most of the others, would figure it out immediately–well, not the entire story, no. He will be able to deduce that you must hae forgotten a piece or two (or maybe even all) of your memory and in turn, makes you very confused as to where you were and who is he–I mean, how could you even forget who he is? He courted you for so long and now he will have to go through that all over again? 

You don’t remember everything as fast as his interrogation skills, however, and he will begin to question you before you even get to have your “memories” back, and when you do, you were already finished telling him of your life back in Earth and it seems you might have slipped that Teyvat is inside a game called Genshin Impact, which is how Heizou came into the conclusion of the truth. 

You really wouldn’t be able to hide anything from this man because he knows his way around interrogation that even if you try to lie, it will only be for your demise. Well, it does seem like he wasn’t taking you seriously, but hey, at least he wasn’t being awkward about it now… or maybe he’s just REALLY not taking you seriously. 

Anyway, it was a kiss that eventually makes you remember—not everything, but at least something. 

“This is not gonna do… you act, speak, and look exactly like Y/n, and yet-“

“But my name is really Y/n! And… I think I remember something.” 

“So you were able to recall something after our lips touched,” he brings a hand on his chin, contemplating, as you feel your face heat up. 

“If you put it that way…” 

“Then should we do it more? Kissing, I mean.” 

“Sure, I-wait… what?”

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!<3

taglist on the reblogs!

[campbell-rose]

Alastor Redesign

Omg there’s like over 70 people following me – guys I'm o///O flattered and flabbergasted. 

Anyway, onto today’s main event, Alastor. I hate Alastor’s og design, I hate his twig waist and his shoulder pads and the way you can’t see his antlers next to his ears, and his bow tie ugh viv please and his HAIR what even is that??? Not even mentioning that nothing about his design is really like a focal point. There’s no one thing that’s particularly interesting. At least before this he had that cathedral window looking cross on his undershirt that I found interesting. Nothing about his says he’s from the 1930’s other than dialogue. 

I wanted him to be in greyscale because that’s the coolest aesthetic, and colored photos weren’t a thing until way after the 30s. Recently I saw jjk, and Jogo’s teeth threw me because at some points I thought he was just straight up toothless. But then when I started this design, that colored tooth look spoke to me. Initially his teeth were yellow to look gross like he never brushes them, but then I was like ‘ayo wait, he’s literally a cannibal’, thus his vibrant red teeth to really pop against his greyscale. Initially his undershirt was white, but I feel like that was too much contrast and white is typically innocence, so by instead having a deep red it shows he’s just straight up bloodthirsty underneath his formal appearance. I also considered it being black, but then he looked like a pastor, and I wasn’t too much of a fan of it. The idea of the red on his design is that it leads your eye down his design to take it all in, with his face being the focus. I gave him glasses because I like the way it obscures his eyes a bit and I imagine they do the anime thing where they glow and hide his eyes. I liked Viv’s idea of sinners having marks where they died, and I slicked his hair back to show it off very prominently. His antlers are larger, I gave him cute lil deer ears. Also, under his suit he is lowkey buff. I feel like a serial killer should at least look physically capable of taking someone down not whatever the fuck viv’s nasty twig men can do. Like, in that comic with the cute sheep girl, when Alastor goes demon mode his body looks so snappable I just wanna like grab his waist in my hands and break it like a twig. I also tried to keep his design simple as if this were for animation, I know pinstripes are complicated and so are antlers but other than that I tried to keep his design basic. 

If I were to rewrite him based solely on the pilot, I honestly wouldn’t change a thing. Alastor is a decent character, his voice actor gives him life, the radio filter is cool, and nothing he did made me want to break my screen (ANGELDUST). The only thing I'd change would be his position in hell. Like, viv’s hell is so wack and I hate it, she’s got the princes, then the goetia and the overlords and then sinners and blah blah, it’s a lot to keep track of, not even mentioning the rings and circles thing. I think Alastor should have had dealings with hell as a human, maybe he routinely did sacrifices or something, and he made a deal with the archdemon Alastor and when he died like... uuhhhhhhh. Maybe through connections he’s gained more power? Idk, I just know I hate the idea of his dying and then having like the bestest most powerful demon powers despite not being hellborn. It’s got this mary sue stench. I’ll figure it out, maybe, who knows. 

I’m not gonna start rewriting since there’s nothing to go off of and alter yet, so that’s gonna have to wait until the show actually drops before anything concrete happens lol. 

Also the sheep girl is a sinner that reoccurs in the show now so sorry I don’t make the rules, you can’t give me a cute sheep girl and try to take her away, I’m gonna redesign her and shove her into the plot as someone looking for redemption at the hotel

[waokevale]

The Overlapped AU [Aka Superhumans disguisted as Dinner Theater workers]

The Owners

The Managers (Engineer & the HR person)

The Waiters

The Security

The Performers (Wes is mostly on cleaning duty though)

The Kitchen staff (the others are usually tasked to help, though very few are actually trusted at all times to be there)

The Bartender and the Host

The Dishwashers

The Clerk & The Supplier

So this AU came to me upon a dream, and I just had to make it real...

The synopsis below:

The event of April 17th 1906 does happen, however instead of Charlie and Maxwell being kidnapped into the Constant, the Constant overlaps with the real world and spreads itself onto Earth.

Charlie and Maxwell in the process become corrupted and have to hide away temporarily. Both of them soon began to hear strange voices, source of which neither is quite sure, telling them, compelling them to hide the corruption's effect from the publicity, for the time being.

They come to a mutual realization they have to fix this mess somehow and hunt down any and all corrupted by the tome, by any means necessary.

(Maxwell still has codex umbra, but it is sealed shut for the time being until he's sure it won't spread more if Their influence. )

But the corruption didn't just appear out of nowhere, it's been leaking way long before Maxwell found the Codex, if to a less prominent extent.

Thus, in few years passing, they form a Dinner Theater, a rather inconspicuous establishment from the first glance. Very quickly they began "hiring" employees, which in reality means tracking down and blackmailing those who have been corrupted but not fully lost themselves to its effects, in order to hunt those who had.

Winona was against the idea at first, as she found out. But seeing the effects of corruption first hand, she quickly had a change of heart and integrated herself into Charlie's new environment.

Eventually they gathered a rather generous amount of people. Once a person's proven to be trustworthy to a point, they're give higher positions in the company.

However those who aren't, are likely to be shunned or "fired" which...you could probably guess what that means.

Many of these people gradually come to terms with the reality of their situation and accept their newfound purpose, being thankful that at least they still have a roof over their head and a warm meal, instead of being viewed as monsters or outcasts to the greater society.

(Wilson though, can't quite accept this notion. He keeps claiming that "this is just a big misunderstanding, I'm just a normal guy!" Yet the truth could be far from it.)

When Maxwell and Charlie hear of the danger looming, they immediately inform their "staff" of the matter. Those who are more experienced in combat come along to face whatever opponent may cross them, while those who aren't, stay behind, to be an additional aid or a medic in case the battle gets too intense.

Whenever any suspicion arises in the town about the shady business going on in that particular building, the two owners alongside their employees practically gaslight anyone and everyone into believing they're but the most regular entertainment center.

The characters who have either willingly or unwillingly lost their humanity, mostly in the physical sense, are given special devices constructed of Thulecite and bits of nightmare fuel (made by Winona, Wicker and the main two), which effectively hide away their true identity, or surpress the effects of their ailment.

There's also a few other people important to this story, especially the One, which even Charlie and Maxwell refer to as "The Boss", though what many most recent hires don't know, is that there's someone who's in a position much higher than the owners themselves, controlling their every move.

Correlating to that, another person, or rather, a set of people per se, working for a much different cause. Though most of them are "people" in only a visual sense of the word.

And while, there might be someone inside the well-known around town diner, who just might be more than what appears on the surface, literally and metaphorically this time.

__________

If you're interested to learn more about this AU, do let me know. If you have any questions, I'm happy to hear and answer them!

[lullaebies]

HII your jaehaera x aegon iii has taken over my brain like OMGGG him & jaehaera >>>> but my request (if your still taking them) is how team green and black see how Aegon iii is infatuated/fixated/in love with Jaehaera. it's moments like Aegon talking to his brothers until he suddenly goes silent, his eyes tracking Jaehaera who's passing by. Or Jaehaera dancing with another man and his jealousy. No matter the situation the way he looks at her is the same. Gentle and tender but intense. Like I need this man to be a devout simp 😩🫡

a/n: thank you so much love!! they have genuinely took over my brain i'm so happy i'm not alone in this lmaoo. now i didn't really have time to write the past few days sadly (which is why other reqs are still pending - sorry guys!), but for this request i actually had something in my drafts that fit to it. i am writing a chaptered fic au for jaehaegon (...and jaehaerys/viserys ii lol) and i've been testing writing interactions for them to get the vibe i want... it changed a lot since then, but this was one of the test fics. i hope you will enjoy it! this is viserys ii pov, but there are lots of mentions to other characters.

It is deep into the night’s feast when he notices Aegon playing with the ruby ring upon his pinky. 

Well. Viserys supposes the more proper word is fiddle, though his brother is hardly a restless man. He is far more fitting into the description of rigid, filling the black of his doublets with broad shoulders of deliberate posture and a sense of responsibility.

Or at least so he had been, until their estranged family had come for a visit. Their uncle and aunt had come out of the woodworks that had been Oldtown to request to build a Keep to the west of it. That had been for their son, who had nothing to inherit, as it stands. Viserys’s mother had allowed them to make their case, his father had allowed them to see his smirks, but nothing yet had been set in stone.

It is an art, to convince those who never planned on being convinced. While Prince Aegon the Elder and Princess Helaena had been mostly unsuccessful in their endeavours, their daughter Jaehaera, had entered the court with prideful flare to her step and an ever-determined gaze. One could not say she had charmed his mother and father, but Viserys thinks they had hardly been the ones she had her mind on setting her claws in.

Instead, his own brother, usually so clear-headed and mindful, had his dark purple gaze almost unwaveringly on her. A genuine fool, he thinks. Viserys does not know what the witch has done to make him so dim-witted, but gods be good, she had known her plays. 

While her twin and younger brother had sat nearby him at the table for the better of the event, Jaehaera had entered the feast late, much after everyone’s introductions. The announcement of her arrival had music forced to a stop, setting the majority of eyes to the entrance. 

A lady pleasing on the eyes would steal a man’s thought, that is evident with his own brother, but a lady with strong enough wit would steal a man’s mind. And as music restarted with the appearance of her smile, and men flocked by her for a dance,  Aegon could not be more obvious he had not been at peace, drinking vintage he had prior declared abhorrent.

In truth, Aegon the Younger paralleled Aegon the Elder with the sudden swallow of drinks. And while his brother had been staunchly, unabashedly, moronically staring at Jaehaera, her father had been dead on Aegon the Younger himself, looking just about ready to toss his goblet at him. 

The atmosphere from her brothers hadn’t been much better. Sitting between Jaehaerys and Aegon the Younger, Viserys had felt a proper wall of separation. The man beside him may have known he needed to keep quiet if he wanted to get his damned Keep, but he had been looking at his brother with intense scrutiny for days now.

Little Maelor on the other hand had the gall to laugh while remaining within his mask of an innocent lamb. And when he next does, it is at the same time Viserys wishes to sink into his chair and disappear into it from embarrassment. 

Some golden-haired man had invited Jaehaera to a dance. Not an unexpected occurrence; dancing does happen in feasts. But while his brother had attempted to busy himself with playing with his food like a child, he lifted his head again when the dance ended - only to see said man holding onto Jaehaera’s gem earrings while speaking to her in proximity that is questionable — and there, his brother had to stand. Literally.

Jaehaera looked towards Aegon in the eye then, as everyone else did, but within capturing her gaze, his mouth had become voiceless despite it being opened ajar.

And he stood there uncomfortably, unable to even cuss the man whose offense he stood up against to begin with. As if he’s going to make a fucking toast, or something. I cannot believe this. Baela had told him and Jace alike that she thinks they may be ought to bind their brother to some post to prevent him from acting up. Jace, kind crown-prince he is, completely dismissed it, but now looking at him, he thinks he too just realized their sister had been right. 

Meanwhile mother looked properly frazzled herself, sharing a look with his father that had been so pointed, even King Consort Daemon himself realized he had to give a damn. “Continue the music,” his mother had told the musicians not far away from them, while father had gestured to Aegon to come his way, and now.

Whatever point words their father had decided to rebuke Aegon with, his brother had received them with properly flushed cheeks, should it be from the embarrassment, or the drinking, of whatever blood that didn’t manage to make it to his brain.

Aegon had soon left the table for the grand floor, finding himself some girl to dance with instead. A daughter of one of their loyal courtiers, he believes. Viserys releases a sigh of relief when he sees that. Perhaps now his blood pressure can calm. 

His cousin — Jaehaerys, that is — seems to release a lousy scoff. 

Viserys turns to him with a frown. “You have something to say?” 

Viserys will admit; he is defensive of his brother, as foolish as he may have acted these days. He would not hear giggles or scoffs at him. Jaehaerys, on his part, is unfazed, staring yet still on the floor, and at the dance that has partners swapping left and right. 

“There is little to say in this situation, no?” Jaehaerys answers. “Even little that can be done, or prevented, don’t you agree?”

Viserys doesn’t bother acting the fool, but his cousin better not either. “On your side, mayhaps,” he answers. “Your sister will lose you your Keep if this continues, you know this?” 

Jaehaerys eyes grow daggered, and he lowers his voice. “There isn’t going to be any damn Keep given from your parents, even if my own ones’ grovel,” he says cutthroat. Viserys stares at him. He knows well enough, huh? “Don’t assume me stupid. Nor should you assume my sister stupid. This had been a losing game since arrival, for the lot of my family… but she’ll cut her losses even in the most futile of dances.” 

When Viserys looks back at the dance floor, their siblings are dancing together. Viserys licks his lips. There is something there that can’t be prevented, perhaps, but also something that won’t quite be approved by all of their parents. What would it do, in the long run? Nothing. 

“And throwing herself at my brother would be cutting her losses?” he asks back, more sincere than he even planned on sounding. He even tries to pick his words carefully. “It would not do her good either, to end up seeming a… seductress.” 

Jaehaerys tsks. “No need to dance around it. I’ll say it as it is, fully and wholly — she has no plans on being your brother’s whore,” he brings a hand forward; the one with six fingers, and lays above the back of Viserys’s hand on the table. His fingers fill the spaces between his, the little extra pinky standing up purposefully. Viserys freezes for a moment, and nearly takes his hand back when Jaehaerys opens his mouth again. “It only takes one extra step to make honey from enticing, to trapping.” 

The extra finger curls against Viserys’s palm as Jaehaerys intertwined their fingers, squeezing lightly with a smile. Viserys swallows and only manages to remember to snatch away his hand when Jaehaerys’s chuckle comes along with the brush of his thumb against the side of his palm. 

What the fuck. He rises himself from his chair, needing some damn distance. Whatever the fuck his cousins have in mind, they live in their own world, as do their father and their mother. 

By the time he manages to absolve himself from the almost scorching feeling of Jaehaerys’s hand on his, the feast is over, and they all go their own ways, Viserys himself remaining rushing to his room.

The morning after, when he sees Jaehaerys’s face again, he has a look in his eye that is ever-knowing. And for a moment, he thinks in mortification it is all about him — but it is not.  It is only then, that he starts understanding what her brother truly meant the night prior.

Jaehaera is standing by her twin, smiling absentmindedly and fiddling with a ruby ring on her bony thumb, and his brother, his dear, foolish brother, stares at her with his bare fingers and doting eyes, ready only to give more.

[casino-lights]

King Alistair vs Warden Alistair discourse always seems to resurface, like all of the other character-centric discourse, with each resurgence of the dragon age fandom. fandom veterans are probably tired of this by now, but since a lot of new people are playing origins and the old arguments about players making Bad Choices in this rpg are getting rehashed, here's my two cents on this topic in particular. 

I was watching my girlfriend play through some of the early levels in origins when I suddenly had a lot of thoughts about Alistair and she encouraged me to share them. throughout his introduction and his subsequent role in Ostagar and the Wilds, we see Alistair being quick-witted and snappy with his humor, but also very focused and dutiful. we see him being (mostly) respectful and polite, but also fairly confident and surprisingly authoritative considering his behavior later in the game. Alistair is comfortable here in Ostagar, and he's comfortable as a Warden not only under Duncan's command, but also over these new recruits. he doesn't shy away from his role as a mentor, the one who's supposed to show everyone the ropes and keep them on task and on schedule. he kindly yet firmly puts Jory back on track when he stumbles, he takes charge when he finds out the Tower of Ishal has been overrun, and he displays thorough knowledge of both the plan and the original expectations of what would be found in the tower. he's also knowledgeable about Blights and some Warden history, and he takes it upon himself to inform Duncan of Morrigan and Flemeth instead of just letting the player talk like he does later on.

speaking of that scene, Duncan is a bit firm but not angry or mean when he says he tells Alistair not to focus on the fact that Morrigan and Flemeth are likely apostates. he tells Alistair in no uncertain terms that this is not his concern and he needs to return his attention to the task at hand. this is not dissimilar from the way the player can later tell Alistair that people are taking advantage of him and he needs to make sure he's standing up for himself, but I'll get into this more a bit later.

what I'm trying to get at is that when we meet Alistair, he's a little closer to his hardened self than to the chronically unserious and incompetent manchild that Morrigan, DA2 and Inquisition, and some parts of this fandom treat him as. post-Ostagar, even Alistair himself seems to see himself as some class clown who can't do anything right, and characters like Wynne enable this by treating him like an ACTUAL child. while Alistair is almost certainly young, he has already proven shortly after meeting him that he's not even remotely stupid and he can obviously take care of himself. Duncan refers to the player, Jory, and Daveth as Alistair's "charges," showing that Duncan clearly trusts Alistair with a lot of responsibility and the safety and guidance of three strangers. he is far from stupid, he's far from childish, and he's obviously a layered character.

this has been said countless times before but a big problem in every fandom is the slow reduction of characters to one or two notable traits, and Alistair is no exception. I have a theory as to why. we know Duncan's death affected him deeply, but I don't think that alone explains his sudden switch from respecting the player while continuing to guide them and share responsibility as the senior Warden to almost blindly letting them lead him around and acting like if he led for five minutes they'd all die horrible deaths because he's just that incompetent. I think that during the time the player was unconscious in Flemeth's house, Alistair experienced an offscreen breakdown where he retreated behind desperate attempts at humor and making himself seem dumber and sillier to appear less competent in the hopes that someone else would be in charge so he didn't have to. if you think back to what age he was when he last experienced such a sudden, tumultuous, confusing loss of stability, routine, community, and a father figure - Eamon sending him to the Chantry as a child - you might even consider this to be a form of partial age regression. when we see him outside Flemeth's hut, he pleads with the player to not abandon him because he doesn't know what they should do or where they should go. he hasn't had this lack of direction ever since he was sent to the Chantry because after that, they dictated his life until Duncan recruited him and then the Wardens dictated his life. he's terrified and tired and grieving, and he begs us to make the decisions and help him figure out what to do. 

Morrigan gives him some shit for being quiet and sad, and he snaps at her, but otherwise we don't see a lot of that confidence and willingness to stand up for himself after this. I don't often play a character who is openly mean to any of their companions, so I don't really take any of the more dismissive dialogue options toward Alistair, but he's obviously hiding behind his humor and trying to make himself seem insignificant. in one line he even jokes that he'd hide behind his shield instead of his humor but the player would see him behind it. I think he really does just wish he could hide and grieve on his own and wait for someone else to give him a purpose again, and I think that if we actually saw the process of this breakdown from his more comfortable, confident, capable self into the Alistair we get post-Ostagar and pre-Goldanna, fewer people might be coddling Alistair and enabling this unhealthy coping mechanism. I wish the dialogue options to harden him were a bit kinder, but as we saw, Duncan was willing to tell it to Alistair straight up, and maybe that's the directness he needed from the player too. maybe Alistair needed to be told in no uncertain terms, by someone he respects and trusts, that most people he interacts with have some kind of ulterior motive and he needs to be more aware of this and stand up for himself and his beliefs. once he understands this, we can see him shift from reluctantly taking on the role of king because you and Eamon think it would be best to taking on the role of king because he understands it would be best.

bioware basically canonized this firmer, more responsible version of Alistair in their comics and even during some parts of Inquisition. we know King Alistair is their canon, but even though he shows some uncertainty about his ability to be King, we don't see any unwillingness. yet bioware also made the unfathomable decision to simultaneously show Alistair being a confident, capable king and then immediately fuck that growth up by having him look like a bumbling idiot who still doodles on royal documents at the fair age of thirty-something and still doesn't know how dictating a letter works after ten years of ruling Ferelden. they somehow invalidated both of his paths in origins at the same time, and perhaps most frustratingly, they just won't let go of the "swooping is bad" style of writing for him. let him grow. let him be as competent and brave and determined as he is in your comics. his progress has been so inconsistent it's painful.

if it wasn't already obvious, I think the best path for Alistair as a character is to harden him and make him king. he just doesn't get to prove himself as a Warden as much as he does when he's king. he's mostly alone, he doesn't seem to have a great rapport with other Wardens outside of his renown as one of the heroes of the Blight, and he just acts tangibly sadder. this could be because of the fake Calling, sure, but if he was still joking around with us during an actual Blight, I don't see why this event would have him this drained of personality and life, especially because he knows that this is not the real Calling. his line when he's left in the Fade - "tell Morrigan... tell her I just stood there looking foolish" - is another testament to the fact that he has not grown at all from his self-deprecating humor and he still hasn't come to see himself as capable and worthy of respect. we don't get to see enough of him as king, but from what little we get he seems to be wielding his power and authority well, and he's an incredibly well-respected and well-loved king. especially with Anora or a Cousland queen at his side, he's brave, commanding, and - just like he was back in Ostagar - he seems COMFORTABLE. he knows what he's doing, he sees his worth and accepts it, and he's more than willing to be firm and tell Fiona in no uncertain terms that Ferelden will not tolerate the events in Redcliffe. he's taking command and he's leading and protecting his charges, even though they're a lot more than just three Warden recruits this time. 

on a personal note, as someone who has dealt with mental health challenges, tough love from someone I respect and trust actually really helped me and I wouldn't be where I am without the occasional "you need to snap out of it." I'm not saying it's best for all scenarios, but I have experienced this firsthand. Alistair hiding from his responsibilities because they're overwhelming and he's terrified does resonate with me, but so does him actually healing a bit more and becoming more confident when someone shows him that they know he's better than this and he just needs to act like it. 

lastly, I think it's important to clarify that I don't believe anyone is playing any rpg the Wrong Way, regardless of what bioware made canon in their comics and other external media. I also think it's stupid to try and say ANY choice or route is inherently right or wrong, and every player is entitled to their opinion and preference. choices made in role playing games are usually done for the sake of playing a role, immersing oneself, and/or exploring the game's full library of content. as I said, I personally find hardened King Alistair with Queen Cousland to be the most satisfying version of his character arc, but I don't mean any of this to shame anyone if they choose or believe otherwise. no hate is intended, so don't purposefully misunderstand or misinterpret my words. no offense is intended if you just prefer one of Alistair's storylines or character arcs over the other. full offense is intended if you're the kind of person who bullies, shades, or otherwise belittles people who don't agree with your super special headcanons because you need to be the most correct player in the fandom.

thanks to everyone who isn't one of those people for reading all this <3

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kelly Link's "Book of Love"

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/13/the-kissing-song/#wrack-and-roll

Kelly Link is one of science fiction's most important writers, a master of the short story to rank with the likes of Ted Chiang. For a decade, Kelly's friends have traded whispers that she was working on a novel – a giant novel – and the rumors were true and the novel is glorious and you will love it:

https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/book-of-love-9781804548455/

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/239722/the-book-of-love-by-kelly-link/

It's called The Book of Love and it's massive – 650 pages! It is glorious. It is tricky.

If you've read Link's short stories (which honestly, you must read), you know her signature move: a bone-dry witty delivery, used to spin tales of deceptive whimsy and quirkiness, disarming you with daffiness while she sets the hook and yanks. That's the unmistakeable, inimitable texture of a Kelly Link story: deft literary brushstrokes, painting a picture so charming and silly that you don't even notice when she cuts you without mercy.

Turns out that she can quite handily do this for hundreds of pages, and the effect only gets better when it's given space to unfold.

Hard to tell you about this one without spoilers! But I'll tell you this much. It's a story about three teenaged friends who return from death and find themselves in the music room at their high school, face to face with their mild-mannered music teacher, Mr Anabin. Anabin explains what's happened in frustratingly cryptic – and very emphatic – terms, but is interrupted when a sinister shape-shifting wolf enters the music room.

This is Bogomil, and whenever he speaks, Mr Anabin turns his back – and vice versa. Anabin and Bogomil appear to be rivals, and Bogomil may or may not have been the keeper of the land of the dead from which the three have escaped. There's also a forth, a tattered shade who's been dead so long they don't remember who they are or anything about themselves. Bogomil would like to take the four back to the deadlands, but Anabin proposes a contest and Bogomil agrees – but no one explains the contest or its rules (or even its stakes) to the four dead teenagers.

That's the wind up. The pitch that follows is flawless, a long and twisting mystery about friendship, love, queerness, rock-and-roll, stardom, parenthood, loyalty, lust and duty. There's a terrifying elder god of Lovecraftian proportions. There are ghosts upon ghosts. There are ancient grudges. There are sudden revelations that come from unexpected angles but are, in retrospect, perfectly set up.

More than anything, there are characters. It's impossible not to love Link's characters, despite (because of) their self-destructive choices and their impossible dilemmas. They are so sweet, but they are also by turns mean and spiteful and resentful, like the pinch of salt that transforms a caramel from inedible spun sugar into something that bites even as it delights.

These characters, so very likable, are often dead or at death's door, and that peril propels the story like an unstoppable locomotive. From the very start, it's clear that some of them can't survive to the end, and Link is merciless in making you root for all of them, even though this means rooting against them all. This, in turn, creates moments of toe-curling, sublime horror.

Link has built a complex machine with more moving parts than anyone has any business being able to keep track of. And yet, each of these parts meshes flawlessly with all the others. The book ends with such triumphant perfection that it lingers long after you put it down. I can't wait to read this one again.

[iskratempestmadness]

Babysitting there kid while mommy’s gone headcanons?

Okay, I'm tired of this, but I think I did it pretty well.

(what I mean by " Mature enough children" are children who have not yet grown up to be called a teenager, children who are under ten years old)

Baki:

- it is not difficult for him to handle a child, but he is still a child himself

- God, he calls his mother every 15 minutes.

"What does he like to eat? ", " Does he need a lunch nap? " , " He wants candy, can he? "and much, much more...

- but he plays with him, walks with him, in general, they have a great time

- even if Hanma leaves the child alone for a short time, he does not take his eyes off him

- however, Baki didn't keep track of him a couple of times, so the kid will tell his mom that Baki cooked for him, they played together, and then Bucky took him down from the tree

- If the child is already more or less an adult, then he goes with him to the amusement park

- in general, it seems to me that the older the child is, the more often Hanma will break the rules with him

- like, "Can't you have ice cream? Forget it, I allow it, the most important thing is not to tell your mom," "What does your mom forbid you to ride this attraction? Let's go for a ride while she's not looking." and all that sort of stuff

- he will probably fight with the kid on the console in the evening

- the older the child, the more Baki behaves like a friend with whom mom asks you not to communicate

- he just wants the child to feel that he is no longer under control and he can do whatever he wants (of course without going beyond the limits)

- but he will also teach the child something necessary

- for example, Baki can teach him how to cook some simple dishes like scrambled eggs. ( Baki is 100% good at cooking, but some of his dishes may be slightly overcooked)

- or Baki will train with the child. Of course, he will give the child less workload than himself, but such a time will be clearly more useful

Hanayama:

- he's doing surprisingly well with the kid

- he has probably already consulted with his mother about what he can and cannot do, when he goes to bed, and so on

- probably Hana doesn't have too much time to play with the child, (and he understands that his appearance to the child may seem a little frightening) so he can gut the Kizaki. - However, this does not mean that Hana shifts all her responsibilities to her assistant.

- he certainly spends time with the child and... he likes it

- constantly monitors the child or Kozaki does it, so Rhea doty can't talk about any emergency situations

- if the child is old enough, he will spend more time with him and he will... more relaxed

- break the rules? He'll just say he didn't know or forgot about it.

- probably goes to the cinema with the child. Imagine Hana lounging in an armchair eating popcorn with a child.

- Later, Kaoru will discuss with him whether he liked what he remembered, whether he liked the characters

- maybe the child will be in Hana's office a couple of times

Katsumi:

- he is one of those who is on the same wavelength as the child

- however, he will be in a difficult position if the child is small. He will probably constantly call to find out what the child likes, whether he needs a quiet hour and the like. ( he is also likely to ask Natsueh for help )

- however, he will try to play and keep an eye on the child properly. (imagine Katsumi riding a child on his back like a horse. He would have been a wonderful young father)

- but if the child is old enough... Ho, ho, they're going to have a great time.

- Break the rules? Pfffff, of course

- probably teach the child to play slot machines... It's going to be a COMPETITION.

- she'll make a bunch of stupid photos with the kid where they spend time together. (send them to the baby's mom later as a photo report of how they spent the day)

- he can (and will) obey the child in some cases. Like, "What? Do you want to go there? Come on," It's just that in some cases he doesn't know how to tell him no... Besides, he thinks it's going to be fun anyway.

Jack:

- Ohh, he's going to have a hard time

- he will postpone training and try to become a good nanny

- if the child is small, then Jack will find out from his mother what he likes, what he should be fed, and so on

- He will find out in advance so that during the departure he will not bother the child's mother.

- he will play with the child and keep a close eye on him, but still it seems to me that Jack's appearance will scare the child a little

- It will be easier for Hanma if the child is old enough

"she'll probably go on a little camping trip with him." (I think Jack has experience in this) He will teach the child everything. How to set up a tent, how to light a fire and many other things. So the child will definitely not be bored. (imagine Hanma sleeping in a sleeping bag with a child, (although with his height it will be difficult to find a suitable sleeping bag) I think it's cute)

- if it's not going to be a hike, then it will be walking in parks or riding bicycles.

- in any case, he would prefer to spend time with the kid on the street

- violation of the rules? Mmmm... Maybe... Partly... Like, " Don't you want to go to bed? okay, you have 15 more minutes"

- maybe teach the child self-defense

Retsu:

- "no problem. I'll do it"

- it's equally easy for him to treat both small children and fairly grown-up ones

- he will also discuss all the nuances with his mother before leaving

- so there's nothing to worry about, he's a great babysitter.

- the child will always be full, there will be no problems with games and the child will sleep at the appointed time ( imagine a sleeping Retsu with a book in one hand that he read to the child , and with the other he holds the child who sleeps on his chest ... Well, isn't it charming)

- if the child is old enough, it will also not be difficult for Retsu to sit with him

- he will probably walk with him in the park or train with him. He is for outdoor recreation

- however, at home he will find something to occupy the child and at home. Perhaps she will draw with him or play board games

- break the rules? Seriously?! No, he won't let the child do that.

- also sends the child's mother photos of how he spent his time and what he ate.

Shibukawa:

- Well, okay

- it's not difficult for him to sit with the kid... He thought so...

- it's really hard for him to sit with a small child

- he is nervous, but he does not show

it - however, he calls the child's mother literally every 5 minutes

- however, Shibukawa learns quickly, so he can be found playing with a child at ease or walking with him (this is a pretty peaceful picture)

- If the child is quite an adult, then it really becomes easier for him

- he will tell the child the stories of his youth and observe his reaction

- he is also very malleable to the child... Not because she can't say no to him... Because he is really interested in what a child can come up with for entertainment

- Violation of the rules? Ha, of course he wouldn't be him if he didn't do it.

- he also often makes fun of the kid

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 2 Summary: Lucien and Rhysand argue over Reader's imprisonment, only one cell is traded for another. Lucien reaches out to an unlikely alley for support in getting Reader free.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of injuries, mentions of self harm, mentions of body issues/insecurities.

A/N: I was too excited to wait the full month so here is part two a bit early! I apologize that this gets a bit dialogue heavy at the end. I may fix it later. This is going to be a long slow burn fic with a lot of angst. This will also have crossover with some of the Crescent City characters. It also probably goes without saying, but this will not follow canon past the events in HOSAB. Comment on this post if you want to be included on the tag list.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 1

Seven days. Seven days he’d been arguing and advocating for her release with Rhysand. For seven days he listened to the same rehearsed list of excuses as to why Rhys wouldn’t budge in his decision.

“You and I both know that the gate to Velaris was sealed with blood magic. Only those whose blood is linked to the seal can pass through, which she shouldn’t have been able to do. On top of that we don’t know what world she came from. I’m not risking the lives of my family-my court, which includes you- on what equates to no more than a hunch.”  

While the High Lord’s statements were reasonable and valid points, his insistence she remained confined in that dark and dank cell was not. Lucien hastily made his way down the main steps that lead into the catacombs, thoughts of his last spat with Rhysand swirling in his mind.

“Why do you care so much about what happens to this woman?” Rhys had questioned. Lucien had asked himself the same thing; but how could he say that it was less about her and more about what she represented? That when he saw her cowering form in the corner of that cell, images of Feyre, Elain, and Jesminda flashed through his mind. He had failed the two sisters. He had failed his first love. He would sooner have the Cauldron blast him from existence should he fail to protect another innocent female. He’d kept his composure standing in Rhysand’s office at the River House long enough. A simmering rage permeated the space as the raven-haired male stared him down. A silent challenge in the already tense atmosphere.

“How can you stand your own hypocrisy?” He seethed, “You sit there thinking of yourself so high and mighty, yet a simple human frightens you? You allowed Feyre into Velaris the second week she spent with you. You allowed Bryce into your home within minutes of her crashing into our world. Yet this human…this woman scares you so much you have her imprisoned in one of the most dangerous areas of your court?”

“ENOUGH!” Rhysand bellowed, his own violet orbs simmered with rage. Lucien felt his flames rise up and encircle his palms. Rhysand’s High Lord command held no sway so he continued.

“Are you that much of a coward that you could not have just asked her a few simple questions? You couldn’t have just looked into her-”

“I could not enter her mind!” Rhys’ breaths were ragged. “Something is protecting that mortal, and it is strong enough to keep me out. So long as those shields of hers remain impenetrable I cannot trust her. I must keep my mate and child safe.” Lucien scoffed, his fire dwindled. “Which is not something I can say I see you doing for your own.”  

Lucien could still feel the cracking of bone and cartilage of Rhys’ nose as it connected with his fist. The argument surly would have resulted in them demolishing the entirety of the business wing had Azriel’s arrival not stopped the two males in their tracks. The Shadowsinger’s haggard appearance set them both on edge, but his words allowed Lucien to breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m done with this Rhys. I cannot keep hur- I cannot do this… she knows nothing.” The High Lord merely looked between the Emissary and the Spymaster. Expression relaxed and revealing nothing, even as blood dripped over his lips.

“Bring her up to the Moonstone Palace,” the commanded was towards his brother, “Since Lucien is so smitten with the woman he shall remain with her there for the time being.”

Lucien soon found himself outside of her cell. Only darkness and cold emanated from beyond the door. He paused his own breathing, wondering if she was even still alive. The last time he saw her, she hadn’t hesitated to slice open her own skin. Azriel wasn’t far behind and pushed past Lucien to enter the room. Lucien’s breath remained caught in his throat as he took in the mangled sight of her.

You had no idea how long you’d been in the darkness of your cell. Hours had turned into days, but just how many days you weren’t sure. You had gone silent on what you assumed was the third day. You knew nothing of how you got there, and you had no idea where to begin when Azriel-who’s name you gathered early on-asked you about the world you came from. Its not like he would believe you if you said your world had no magic, at least not in the same way it was here. Then again, that was clearly an incorrect assumption on your part. And after everything that has transpired you determined that this was no dream. It was a nightmare come to life. You weren’t sure how much more your psyche could tolerate. Surely death would be better than the horrors that would plague your mind for years to come if you were allowed to live. You prayed silently to whatever deity would listen to let you die. You started as the metal hinges of the door screamed into the darkness. 

“Mother above,” The horrified yet soft baritone drifted to your ears and you strained to open your eyes. You recognized the voice and Lucien’s warm body was immediately next to yours as you dangled from the ceiling. The male made quick work of the metal shackles holding your wrists high above your head, a bright light flooding the small space making you hiss. His large hand encircled your wrist and you could feel the skin repair itself. Lucien slowly lowered your arms down.

“Her name is (Y/N),” Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if he was ashamed of the space his normal speaking voice would take up in the small cell. As if what he said would break you further. Lucien held you up, warm hands around your rib cage holding you steady. 

“(Y/N),” His testing of your name tentative, “(Y/N), my name is Lucien…I’m going to take you out of here.” His arms wrapped around you, and you could have sworn you felt your skin get warmer, the cold melting away like ice. His grip never lessened, which you were grateful for as you weren’t sure your legs could fully support your weight.

“Do you feel safe enough to come with me?”  You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move your head in agreement. Couldn’t specify that you felt safe with him. You could only muster enough strength to cling to the front of his shirt, hoping it conveyed your trust towards him and him alone. Your eyes burned with tears. He shushed you as one of his hands rubbed up and down your spine. A footstep echoed in the chamber, and then you felt Azriel’s shadows attempt to wend their way over your bare feet. Your flinch was followed by a low warning growl, one that you felt more than heard.

“Follow me,” Azriel’s swallow was audible.

“Can you walk?” Lucien’s hand lowered to your waist, pushing you back far enough so he could meet your eyes. They felt swollen and your vision was unfocused and hazy, but you tried to keep them open so he could see that you would try your best. You shifted your weight back onto your heels and slowly slid your right foot in front of you. A lightning like bolt of pain traveled up your leg. Air harshly sucked into your lungs.

“I’ve got you,” his voice was reassuring as he continued to support most of your weigh in his arms. You took another step forward. Then another and another. His hands never faltered from their place on your torso as he moved himself to walk behind you. Ready and poised to keep you balanced and catch you should you fall. “Good girl,” he praised, “Let’s get you cleaned up so I can heal you yeah?”

The walk up from the catacombs to the palace proper was brutal. Your legs burned from the muscle strain and you were regretting not accepting help from Lucien while you bathed. However, the last thing you wanted was to have anyone see you naked. Lucien had helped enough with getting the large sunken in bathtub filled. The scent of vanilla and lavender contrasted with the grime and dirt that filled your lungs for the last week. You had specifically asked for the water to be scalding, wanting it to burn away the memory of everything that had been done to you in the dark. The deep cold that laced your bones was finally seeping out in the hot water. A soft knock rapped on the stone archway leading into the bathing chamber. Unable to move your neck freely you covered your chest and turned to face the male. He walked over to the bench set near the tub, a bundle of cream-colored fabric in his arms. Unless it was a bedsheet you doubted that any clothing he found would fit you. Then again, magic existed so its possible that the fabric could be altered instantly. He sat on the bench and set the garment next to the towel that awaited you.

“Are you certain that I can’t be of assistance?” He looked beyond you towards the open windows that overlooked the absolutely stunning expanse of wilderness below the palace. A darkened city jutting out from the base of the mountains the only thing that disrupted the sight. You were thankful for Lucien’s offer. Truly you were, and despite the feeling-knowing- that you could trust the male, your self-conscious nature surrounding your body was too strong.

“I-” You cleared your throat of the gravel you were certain had lodged itself inside from screaming against the rocky surface of your cell, “I’m good.” The vibration of your vocal chords felt like sandpaper as they rubbed together. He looked at you then and reflexively you squeezed your arms tighter around yourself; gripping your elbows as you dipped down into the water until everything below your neck was submerged. You were grateful for the tub size making you look small. It could easily fit two full grown adults and deep enough to reach your waist when you stood to full height. It almost reminded you more of a jacuzzi rather than a bathtub.

“Then I’ll leave you to bathe in peace,” He stood and clasped his hands behind his back, “I’ll be in the room just beyond these arches. Just call our if you need anything. I’m here to ensure that you’re taken care of.” You nodded your understanding and turned towards the side of the tub lined with soaps and lotions, his foot steps retreating against the stone tiles. While you had difficulty with your range of motion, you managed to rid yourself of the dirt, grime, and dried blood from your skin. Your hair felt silky, soft, and light compared to the heavy oily mats from not washing it for a week. You had also found a razor nearby and took the opportunity to shave, savoring the feeling that you were becoming a person again. Drying off was easier with the relaxed muscles. The vanilla scented lotion felt like heaven as it penetrated your dry skin. You surmised that the bath had really only removed one layer of nightmares as you scanned your form in the mirror on the opposite wall. Your eyes first saw the plethora of cuts in every size cover the expanse of both your arms, shoulders, and collar bone from the dagger-Truth Teller-that Azriel had used during your interrogation. Next you took in the dark red and purple bruise on the left side of your jaw. The discoloration spanning from the joint below your ear to your chin. It was a miracle that he hadn’t knocked any of your teeth out or broken your jaw from the force he hit you with. Eyes trailing further down you saw a second healing bruise, its blue-green hue spanning the length of your ribs on the right side of your body. Laying down on your side was going to prove difficult still. Finally, your eyes landed on the only injury that you yourself were responsible for. The shadows had played too many tricks on your mind, too many whispers promising to break you. The psychological and emotional pain was worse than the physical injuries and honestly became too much for your soul. Something in you broke. You still couldn’t figure out exactly how you managed to grab Truth Teller from him, too focused on plunging the black blade into your left inner thigh and dragging it along the flesh. You couldn’t reach your throat, so you had been aiming for the next major artery you knew of in the hopes that you’d bleed out fast, but Azriel was quick. His attempt to get the blade back from you pushed it away from where it would do the most damage. That was the last day that Azriel brought any form of weapon with him, and the last day he put his hands on you. Rhysand had only managed to stop the bleeding, but a large and deep jagged slice remained. Had you paid more attention you may not have doubted the guilt that lined his features as he worked to heal you. You didn’t want this to be real. You still held out hope that if you somehow managed to end your life you’d wake up on the cold concrete of the path leading up to your front door. You didn’t belong here.

You shook the memories from your mind and picked up the fabric on the bench. You expected the intrusive thoughts and nightmares, but you didn’t think that they would be plaguing you so immediately. You slipped on the airy cotton tank top and loose-fitting matching shorts. You were indeed surprised they fit as well as they did, let alone fit at all. Your bare feet padded along the cool stone floor and entered the massive bedchamber. The room encapsulated a warmth with its cream and ivory base colors. Splashes of blues, teals, and turquoise giving it a calming effect.  The dark cherry wood of the four-poster bedframe provided an interesting accent color adding to the space. Lucien sat on an ivory colored couch that faced a white marbled fireplace. Sadly, the flames did nothing to help illuminate the space and only seemed to cast heavier shadows. You glanced around the room again and noticed that the bedsheets had been turned down for you, for whenever you were ready to sleep. But you knew you wouldn’t be able to get any real rest with your injuries being what they were. Rhysand had only stopped the bleeding in your thigh. He did nothing for the other injuries. So, Lucien stated he would heal those for you. Carefully walking over, you sat your self on the couch, keeping enough space for another person to sit between you and the crimson haired male. He turned towards you with a slight smile that quickly faltered as he took in your appearance. He moved closer towards you and examined every inch of your skin. His one real eye held no warmth even as a flame seemed to ignite the iris. He took your chin in his hand to get a better look at the bruise on your jaw. His touch was gentle, but even you could tell that the male was furious with what he saw.

“I had hoped some of this had been dirt,” He turned your head to the side, a finger tracing down along the side of your neck. A metallic scent permeated the air as the hand cupped the left side of your face, covering nearly the entire bruise. His gaze slowly traveled down to your shoulders and the cuts that littered and marred the skin of your arms and shoulders. The skin warmed and tingled under his gentle caress. His eyes paused at your torso, no words needed to understand that he wanted to see the injury to your ribs. You carefully gathered the material and lifted as high as your stiff shoulder and neck muscles would allow. His fingers traced the outline of the mark, and you cringed at the touch of his hands moving your fat rolls out of the way so his palms could lay flat against the skin. Embarrassment colored your cheeks. Lucien continued his healing wordlessly. He motioned for you to stand, grasping your calf and propping your leg on the cushion of the couch. Your inner thigh completely exposed to him allowing the full extent of your wound to be seen. You watched as skin healed almost instantly. His gaze then shifted to the healed scars on your upper thigh, near the junction where it met your hip. “Um…y-you can leave those,” you brought your leg back down to stand before the male, “Thank you Lucien.”

“You’re most welcome,” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. You started to pick at your already blunt nails, a nervous habit you used to ground yourself. You glanced around the room for the third time, almost not believing that you were no longer in the cold and dark. The white walls and bedding opened up the space.

“Is…is that for me?” You pointed over towards the massive bed covered in decorative pillows. Lucien’s red hair swayed with the movement of his head as he followed your gesture.

“The bed is for you,” He stood and walked over to the small bedside table to the left of the headboard, “As is this sleeping draft.” He picked up a deep cobalt vial, giving it a slight shake before setting it back down. You hummed and nodded, but didn’t move from your spot in front of the couch. It went without saying that the potion would be needed after what you experienced over the past week. And you would only feel guilty if you woke him in the middle of the night.

“There’s water for you as well,” His voice softened as he noticed your hesitation. You chewed on your lower lip. The sun was still up, but you didn’t know how its position revealed the time of day. Depending on the time of year and how far north, or south, on the planet you were, you estimated it could be anywhere from 3pm to 9pm. You supposed it didn’t really matter as sleep was sleep and you’d likely remain unconscious for several hours, Gods willing at least.

“I will be in the room next to yours,” He pointed over to a door opposite from the entrance to the bathing chamber, “If you need anything, anything at all you come to me. We’ll get you some food in the morning.” You nodded again as your eyes started to water. You didn’t want to be left alone, but you also didn’t want to take up his time more than you already were. So, wordlessly you forced your feet to move and made your way over to the bed. You crawled in under the blankets that had been moved aside. You grabbed the vial from the bedside table and uncorked the stopper. The scent of chamomile, lavender, and something unknown wafted to you. Before you gave yourself time to reconsider you downed half the contents and set it back down. Lucien was patiently waiting at the door and smiled his first genuine smile towards you.

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

“Goodnight Lucien.”

Lucien had answered all your questions, to the best of his ability, during your first day in the Moonstone Palace. He filled you in on the basics of the Night Court and Prythian. For each bit of information he provided about the land or himself, you matched it. He also informed you that while here, Rhysand insisted that you work on finding any potential information of your world and how to get back to it in the texts that he sent. A new stack of books was brought into the small library within the palace every morning. So far, your hours of reading yielded no results. Then again, you could only read a fraction of the texts given to you. Most were in languages that you couldn’t even begin to understand. Still you scanned the tombs for any words that even looked remotely similar to names of places within your universe. Sadly, all you could find was information related to a Midgard, which was frustratingly NOT the same as the mortal realm described in Norse mythology. Lucien then explained that they had already received visitors from this Midgard that were set to return to Prythian soon. You had gathered that one of them was Bryce, but you’d not been given names for anyone else.

In addition to the books you had also been gifted a small wardrobe filled with clothing in your size. It had been awkward when the half wraiths appeared to measure you. But you were provided with some simple dresses, pants, shirts, and under clothes. Nothing fancy, which you were grateful for. Lucien explained the clothes were an apology gift from Rhysand. You told Lucien that if the High Lord was truly sorry he could at least express as much to your face. You couldn’t complain in the grand scheme of things. Rhysand wasn’t obligated to house, feed, or clothe you. He could have easily dumped you in the Mortal Lands, leaving you to fend for yourself. Although, Lucien stated that he knew of two people that would have taken you into their care. Regardless, you did as Rhysand bid, reading for hours day after day and never asked for anything in particular.

Another two weeks went by and you and Lucien developed a little routine. Breakfast followed by hours of research. Then lunch and various exercises and tests to determine if you held any sort of latent magic. Lucien explained that his initial assessment of you that first day showed nothing, but that didn’t mean you were completely without power. Truth be told you felt he was keeping something from you. Then came dinner, after which you were free to spend your time however you wished. Mostly you spent time on the veranda studying the night sky, letting the wind caress your face and hair. There was one night you swore you heard voices held within the breeze. A song encouraging you that you would find peace again. In your world the night time hours used to provide a comfort, but here there was nothing familiar about the constellations that dotted the dark sky above. Instead, the lack of familiarity just made you feel all the more alone. It wasn’t that Lucien wasn’t good company, you just felt bad that he was stuck with you. He tried really hard to get you to relax and fall into the playful banter he likely needed to survive his own punishment. While he never said as much, you had gathered that his babysitting duty was linked to your release and apology from the High Lord. Lucien made your days easy, filled with witty remarks and a warmth that felt natural. An easy friendship had definitely taken root.

However, the nights were hard. You already suffered from extreme insomnia without the added fear of night terrors. So, your sleep cycle was suffering greatly. The first two nights were dream less thanks to whatever Lucien had given you. But the third night resulted in his bursting through the doors of your bedroom at the sound of your screams. As much as you hated yourself for feeling weak, you begged him to stay in the room. He obliged, of course, and slept on the couch. His presence helped slightly. It didn’t chase away the nightmares, but it did make the darkness that permeated the night more tolerable. You had never been fearful of the night before, having even preferred it to the hustle and bustle of the day. You had always the quite of the night to bring you a comforting serenity. But since your time in the cell…you insisted on a fire in the hearth and the faelights to remain lit, believing the light would chase away the shadows that plagued your dreams.

You felt bad forcing Lucien to sleep on the couch. But you also didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable if you offered to share your bed with him. He told you about his mate, Elain, and you felt even worse that your arrival took him away from her. Even if he explained that their relationship wasn’t what would be expected between mates after nearly 4 years of being in each other’s lives. So, you kept the offer to yourself.

Today started out like any other. Lucien and you sat down to a breakfast of eggs, toast and jam with orange juice. You never really cared for tea and coffee appeared to not be available in Prythian if your companion’s confusion was anything to go by. The only difference today were the two additional place settings.

“Are we expecting visitors?” You asked. You immediately wanted to kick yourself for asking what was an obvious question.

“Yes,” Lucien answered, pouring a cup of tea for himself, “I’ve asked some people to come and meet you. As much as I enjoy our time together, it seems that the High Lord still needs convincing that you should not be kept in a cell.”

“I’m not in a cell,” You countered. However, you didn’t miss the fact that his glare told you that your new cell was just a lavish one.

“Our guests may be able to help me make a stronger case for you to be able to move freely about the court, if not Prythian as a whole.” You pondered who he would have contacted. To your understanding, not many members of the High Lord’s “Inner Circle” particularly cared for the emissary. There was also no way that members from another court would be able to hold any sway over the inner workings of the Night Court.

“So, what do they need to know about me?” You asked, spiking the yoke of your egg. In the time spent with Lucien you were able to be yourself for the most part. You held back on your swearing, meme related jokes, and slang, but tested out your sarcasm and dry humor. One of the main things you were worried about was how to speak with others. While you had manners, you had no formal etiquette training. Something that Lucien found utterly hilarious when you asked for clarification on how to address him.

“Relax, its an informal introduction,” His gentle smile reassured you, “Just be the sweet girl that I’ve come to know.” His smile widened. You gave him a doubtful look, tucking your lips into a thin line to suppress a laugh. He batted his irritatingly long eyelashes and the two of you broke out into a fit of laughter. While you weren’t cold or bitchy by any means, you also weren’t a sweet and demure woman either. No, Lucien quickly pointed out that you had a fire within you…at least on your good days. The laughter was cut short by the sound of a thud in front of you on the stone patio. Your eyes immediately tracked the large bat like wings and you stood from your seat. Metal and glass clanged against the stone as your thighs hit the lip of the table. Your chair knocked to the ground, causing you to nearly trip as you backed towards the metal railing. Blood rushed in your ears and your vision started to tunnel. Lucien was next to you in an instant.

“Hey. Hey," He gripped your right shoulder to keep you steady, “Shh, it’s okay. It's not him. You’re safe.” Your gaze remained fixed on the unknown winged male that looked on with worry etching his features.

“See what you did,” the voice of the female he’d been carrying was distant in your ears. Lucien’s other hand cupped your face, forcing you to turn towards him.

“Eyes on me (Y/N),” He encouraged, “Breathe. There you go.” Your eyes focused on his features; the jagged scar-raised and tight, the deep reds sprinkled amongst the warm honey brown iris. Your breath evened out, and you covered the hand on your cheek with one of your own to let the red head know you were okay. You took another breath and released Lucien. However, his hand remained on your shoulder. You turned back to the couple that stood on the opposite side of the space. At first glance, the winged male held features that you noted were similar to Azriel in regards to skin, hair, and eye color. Although, Azriel’s held more flecks of green than the honey gold of the male before you. The unnamed male was taller and broader, his shoulder-length hair softly jostled in the breeze. Your eyes wandered over to the female that was with him. Her striking blue-grey eyes would have reminded you of steel had it not been for the soft sadness that shown in them at your display. You hadn’t expected to react in the manner you did. Your heart still hammered in your chest. You cleared your throat and smoothed down the front of the simple sage green dress you wore.

“I-I must apologize,” You started, “I guess I…sorry.” You wrung your hands together and looked at your feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the female spoke up, "It’s this idiot’s fault. We should have given you a warning.” You nodded slightly in acknowledgment. Lucien’s hand trailed down your arm to your hand. He gave it a quick and gentle squeeze before he bent down to pick up the chair you’d knocked over in your haste to get away.

“(Y/N),” He motioned for you to sit back down, “This is Cassian, the General of the Night Court’s Illyrian army, and Nesta Archeron, Valkyrie, sister to the High Lady and fellow emissary.” Lucien gestured to each as they took their own seats across from yours.

“It’s nice to meet you,” You reached across the table, your hand extended to shake theirs. When neither returned to gesture you pulled back. “Sorry, I’m used to hand shakes as a form of greeting in my world.”

“So, you are from another world?” Cassian asked, scooping some eggs onto a plate and handing it to Nesta.

“Yes, we call it Earth,” you searched the table for a spare fork, yours having fallen to the ground. When you couldn’t find one, Lucien handed you his. You raised your eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged and began to spread a blackberry jam on his toast. “And before you ask, there is no magic, at least not the same as what you’re familiar with. Also, creatures such as fairies-the Fae- shapeshifters, vampires, mermaids, nymphs, and so on - are all non-existent. Just stories that have been reduced to myths.” The two regarded you closely, listening to your spiel. When they didn’t say anything you continued, too nervous to allow silence.

“I’m not sure how I got here. There are stories of humans traveling through portals into the realm of the Fae or other worlds, but they are simply stories. Ones made to keep children out of trouble or explain natural occurrences. All prior to finding scientific explanation, of course. Like the changing of the seasons,” You realized you were now rambling, “or fairy rings-rings of flowers or more often mushrooms…” The three non-humans stared at you.

“Don’t Lu,” you warned as the corner of the male’s full lips ticked up, “Yes, I talk when I’m nervous. Yes, I’m nervous because I really don’t know how I got here. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t understand why…I just…want to go home.” Lucien took your hand in his again, his grip reassuring and comforting.

“That’s what we’re all working on,” He assured, “There is a library that, should we manage to convince Rhys-”

“Wait, she can’t leave here?” Nesta interrupted, her eyes blazed. Cassian tensed in his seat and gave Nesta a warning glance. It was clear that not everyone knew of your predicament.

“She’s restricted to the East Wing of the palace,” Lucien clarified, “There are barriers up that she can’t pass through. Just like what Tamlin did with your sister.” If Nesta had been upset before, she looked down right lethal now. Of course, Lucien had filled in you in on what transpired with Feyre and his former home in the Spring Court. Cassian cleared his throat, his gaze falling to the other male.

“What is it you need from us exactly?” He looked to you, seemingly trying to figure out why you posed such a threat that you required to be locked away.

“I need your voice in your High Lord’s ear. I have no magic, and we’ve tried various ways to test that out.”

“Which you’re welcome to see,” Lucien interrupted.

“Yes. I don’t really know how to use a weapon, nor do I have much interest in doing so. And, as I already mentioned, up until a month ago I firmly believed that yo-the Fae were not real.”

“What did my brother say his reasoning was for holding her here?” The question was directed towards the other male.

“He can’t enter her mind.” Cassian’s surprise was not well hidden, “He believes that something or someone is guarding her-” It was your turn to interrupt your friend.

“If I was being guarded or protected, then whatever was responsible has already failed me,” Your voice was soft. A silence fell across the table, and most of the food had grown cold. You didn’t know what else to do or say to convince the General and the Valkyrie of your innocence. All they had to go on was your and Lucien’s word. Even if you were to demonstrate the exercise that Lucien put you through each afternoon with no results, how would they believe that you weren’t just pretending. A ruse to fool them. You desperately tried to quell the pinpricks of tears behind your eyes. You feared that if Lucien’s efforts failed you’d be sent back to the catacombs or worse left to rot on that-

“(Y/N),” Nesta’s clear and calm voice cut through your thoughts, “I’d like to hear more about where you’re from.” You nodded.

“What would you like to know specifically?”

“Let’s start with you. Your family, your up brining.” She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed comfortably in her lap. You swallowed and nodded again.

“I can do that.” You spent the next few hours pouring every detail of your life to the trio. Most information Lucien already knew, some he didn’t. You talked about your family and your friends. You briefly talked about your work and academic studies in music. This caught the oldest Archeron’s attention, which launched a discussion regarding your dissertation topic. The two males excused themselves as you continued to talk with Nesta. The topic changed to books and Nesta promising to bring you some of the spicier romance novels that she found to enjoy the most on her next visit; to which you were grateful as you desperately needed a reprieve from only reading books provided by Rhysand. Cassian and Lucien eventually returned as you made a raunchy joke that had you and the female High Fae laughing loudly.

“It’s time to go Nes,” Cassian set his hand on her shoulder. He looked to you and smiled. The expression was genuine. After spending the few hours you did with the male, you had concluded that he was much less frightening than the other Illyrian. At least for the time being, that is. Nesta rose from her seat and joined her mate.

“I will speak with my sister,” She told you, her features hard with determination, “It’s not right that you’re kept any where against your will when you’ve done nothing to justify imprisonment.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, “I hope to see you both again soon. I’m certain this fool is getting tired of having to entertain me.” You gave the male a wicked teasing grin. Cassian let out a booming laugh as ‘your fool’ placed his hand to his chest in mock offense.

“And here I thought you loved my company,” He stated. You laughed as you stood to join him at the patio entrance.

“Yeah, yeah,” You brushed him off, the smile still plastered to your face. The two of you said your goodbyes and watched as the guests flew off in the distance.

“I think that went rather well,” you looked to Lucien, “Don’t you?”

“Yes, it did,” He held his arm out for you to take, “Cassian agreed to speak to Rhys. He said that he and Nesta would allow you to stay in their home or at least help you get in and out of the library.” You hummed in response as you slipped your arm around his. Your mind wandered, and you felt lighter than you had since you’d been here. He walked you to your room and began prepping the couch to be his makeshift bed for the evening. The sun was quickly setting, and you hadn’t noticed that you spent the entire day talking. You paused near the entrance to the bathing chamber.

“Lu?” he hummed, looking up at you while shaking out the quilt. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course, sweet girl,” You rolled your eyes at the term of endearment.

“That’s sticking now isn’t it?” His russet eye brightened with mischief.

“Now that I know it irks you, yes.” You leveled a glare at his to which he just laughed. You huffed a breath.

“If you’re just going to be mean, you can leave,” You stuck your tongue out at him as you made your way into the bathing room. He continued to laugh as he excused himself to his own rooms. When he returned, you were already snuggled in your bed, breathing deep and steady.

Next: Part 3

Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower

[gold-rhine]

What the guard dogs are for

There are some things you never want to hear your secret years-long crush saying, such as “I’m getting married,” “I think we should stay friends” or “I’m the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity.” Wriothesley’s very bad, no good day of trying to unravel conspiracy theories, fumbling a tea party with Chief Justice and learning Teyvat’s ancient history and vishap lore from the leading expert lector.

Genre: angst and misinformation campaign

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley, Enjou

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing even remotely sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, brief mention of self-harm, and Enjou doing same thing he does in canon, which is not quite gaslighting? Anyway, let me know if you feel any other warnings need to be added.

Chapters: 1 out of 2. Wordcount: ~8k

With his morning tea, Wriothesley riffled through the reports as usual. Nothing was marked urgent, so he started with the most boring part, - the official ones. The production numbers, coupon consumption statistics, everything is prepared for Neuvillette’s upcoming inspection, which was mostly a formality, but he would want it to go as smoothly as possible. 

Reports from the surface informants. Traveler stirring up a ruckus with the research institute… Well, about time, that pit couldn’t go on forever pretending that massive explosions are just a part of science routine. 

Next, creatures called “vishaps” appeared recently in Erinnyes Forest. These vishaps are apparently a lesser form of dragons, and connected to Liyue vishaps, also lizard-like creatures, though in Liyue they are aligned with geo, not hydro. Non-hostile to humans, aside from one accident. But in that one they fought back against the hunters sent by nobles to capture them as novelty pets. So the only regrettable part was that they didn’t get the nobles, only their lackeys. For shame. 

Next, there are gangs with new lingo going around, which generally was a good thing to pay attention to as they usually ended up in Meropide. Wriothesley frowned, reading the lingo translations, as he suddenly felt old. “Trendy Zaytun Peach” was something he’d got called for taking it up the ass a lot in his days, but now it’s a hip and cool nickname with the youngsters. 

Informal internal reports. Victims of beret society are rehabilitating fine, preparations for the wedding are underway. Good. Albert, a new guy from the shop, is sending him tea. Quite good tea at that. Obviously a bribe attempt, though he didn’t ask for anything as of yet, so it was basically free. Everything was fair in love and bribes as far as Wriothesley was concerned. You could throw everything at the feet of your beloved as to the feet of your targeted bureaucrat, and receive nothing and you would have no claim to complain. Now, the fact he wouldn’t take it into account when making decisions about their proposals, and sometimes would even consider it a negative, was a different matter altogether. 

He perked up reading the last report. There was a new conspiracy, whose agenda was not very clear, as they were more careful than the others, but the gist was something against Neuvillette, so Wriothesley was tracking it for some time. It was hard to get anything concrete though, as they were pretty good at keeping a low profile, but now apparently one of the members by the name of Jacque got into the Fortress on unrelated charges, and he was reportedly not the brightest shank on the block. 

Wriothesley made the arrangements. 

Half an hour later, he happened to stroll by when Jacque was being beaten up by three guys in the shadowy corner. 

“Hey, what’s going on here? Leave him alone!” he said, walking up to them.

“Oh yeah?”, said one of the bullies, turning to him. “Well, make me!”

They were paid double for the pretend fight. It might have been an overkill, usually Wriothesley would go for just scaring them off without combat. Especially because anyone who’s been in the Fortess for some time or had a head on their shoulders would understand that nobody would try to openly fight the Duke outside of the fight club arena. But Jacque was as fresh as they get, allegedly stupid, and it was Wriothesley’s first chance at any info in two whole months, so he decided to make it as impressive as possible.

He went as easy on the guys as he could, they theatrically threw the fight and retreated. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling next to the guy in the corner and putting his hand on his shoulder for emphasis. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” Jacque muttered, shaking his head. 

“Why did they attack you?”

“They don’t want me to spread the truth...” Jacque said with heavy emphasis. “But uh, thanks for helping me out.” 

“No need to thank me. I feel bad enough that honest folk like yourself get picked on in MY Fortress. That’s not how I want to run my place, so it’s only natural that I stand up for you.”

It took a moment, but finally the guy gasped.

“Your fortress? Are you… the Duke?”

At least he knew what “Duke” is.

“Yeah,” Wriothesley grinned, turning up the charm. “And allow me to get you a couple of drinks to compensate for the rude welcome you’ve received so far.”

He got them to the Coupon Cafeteria, where best meals were already arranged, and generously poured alcohol into the poor guy, listening to the story of his life and misfortunes that brought him to the Fortress, nodding empathetically. He didn’t ask about Neuvillette at all, to not spook the target, trusting that he will come to this anyway, and finally his patience was rewarded. 

“You know, you’re good!” the guy said drunkenly after some time, clasping his hand on Wriothesley's shoulder, which he beared stoically, grinning with all friendliness in the world. 

“You know, they say we can’t talk to you because you’re bought by that lizard, but I think you’re a good guy. You just don’t know all the facts!”

“Which are?”

The guy leaned closer to him and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Neuvillette is an evil dragon!”

Wriothesley choked on a laughter, which was way too obvious to turn into cough even for the dunce this stupid. 

“No, you don't understand! Dragons were enemies of humanity that Celestia conquered. But they come back when killed! They reincarnate! He is a hydro dragon who was reborn in a human form so he could more easily trick us!”

Wriothesley blinked, remembering Neuvillette standing under the rain, and the old children’s song. “Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry….”

“He put our rightful archon Furina on that trial, right? No one else saw the verdict, so he pretended she was declared guilty. He forced her to abdicate and took the power for himself!”

Wriothesley realized long ago that Neuvilette, of course, was not human. It was clear to any idiot who talked to him for longer than a minute in an informal setting, not to mention a lifespan of at least five hundred years. But there were a lot of options other than “evil dragon”. There were old gods who did not receive archonhood, but instead decided to serve the archon, like Liyue’s adepti, and he always assumed Neuvillette was of the same kind. But the idea that Iudex was some kind of evil monster with a grudge against humanity was ridiculous. Especially when he showed up at the Fortress and saved the entire Fountaine and Wriothesley’s own hide from the flood.

“Really?”

“Yeah! We should restore our true archon Furina to her rightful throne!”

Furina’s insurrection? Interesting. Wouldn’t peg her for someone capable of this type of conspiracy.

“And did Furina herself give us her blessing?”

“She can’t speak publicly, as this monster threatens her.”

Hmm, inconclusive on Furina’s involvement.

He spent more time with the drunk Jacque, trying to get more details, but couldn’t get much more than unhinged ramblings on how evil the dragons are and how insidious it was for a dragon to pretend to be a human. He had to leave to prepare to Neuvillette's arrival the next day.

_____

Neuvillette stepped out of Opera Epiclese into the rain and slowed down his pace to prolong the sensation. It was a bit of what humans called guilty pleasure, as he felt guilty from inflicting rain on humans for his own pleasure. Though from his understanding, humans felt guilty because they saw this pleasure as something bad for themselves. Even if often this supposed harm made no sense to Neuvillette. Eating too much food until a human's stomach hurt was at least understandable to see as such, but he heard one of palais’ secretaries say that romance novels were her guilty pleasure. How could humans feel guilty for something as simple as reading? He stopped and asked her why she would feel guilty for reading, because melusines kept telling him that socializing with humans is very easy, you just need to ask them questions about themselves and let them talk about what they like. Well, it didn’t seem to work, as the secretary stumbled, started hyperventilating and emanated levels of panic and anxiety comparable to someone in the defendant’s chair. Sensing human emotions did not actually help Neuvillette in communicating with them, as he could not discern the reasons. He asked her if she perhaps came into possession of any cursed texts? He could generally sense the stench of corruption and there was nothing on her, but there was always a possibility that it was a curse he could not register. She panicked even more and vehemently denied. At this point he decided to give up on socializing, as it was obviously very distressing for humans, but felt obliged to tell her that if she ever did read anything she felt was cursed, to inform him. He hoped it would assuage her fear of reading. She thanked him, stuttering, and after that day avoided him at all costs. 

The rain was a compromise solution in any case. Neuvillette always felt a bit strained and uncomfortable in his body, but after obtaining full dragonhood and most of the memories of past lives, the human shape felt downright stifling. He now remembered thousands of years of being something much bigger, long coils that could easily crush the spire of Opera Epiclese. Now, when he looked at his own reflection, it was hard to comprehend that this small and ridiculous frame was actually him. In addition, all of his memories and instincts called him to be submerged in water. But even with his poor understanding of humans, he realized that seeing the Iudex floating in the river would alarm humans much more than him standing under the rain. So rain was the closest solution he could get at his position. 

He summoned rain instinctively, to be as close to engulfed in water as possible. It was a bit embarrassing that even humans noticed it and composed a rhyme, even if that rhyme was inaccurate. He didn’t cry, as vishaps didn’t cry at all and even his current human shaped body didn’t have tear ducts. The closest he could pinpoint to human experience, as he understood it, was being stressed and desire to be comforted, for which water was his best remedy.

And currently he was quite stressed, looking over the Fontaine laws in an attempt to revise them. The current system that treated justice as theater was clearly imperfect, which he realized long ago. But he never saw himself as authorized to change it, as humans were the responsibility of the archon and even without it, he was well aware he didn’t understand humans, so he knew it wasn’t his place to question the human justice system, to which he was only a temporary guest. But now, as fontanias became part of Teyvat after his decision, and so, a part of his responsibility as Teyvat’s god of life, even if the usurper tried to deny him, he couldn’t ignore the need for change any longer. The problem was that he did not understand humans any better, so it was very stressful to try and restructure their systems of governance. 

He extended a hand, catching raindrops on his palm, when he noticed a silhouette near the elevator to the Fortress, and stopped himself from visibly controlling the weather. 

Wriothesley caught his eyes and grinned, approaching him at brisk pace, umbrella over his head.

“Greetings, Monsieur.”

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley always somehow managed to make a “Monsieur” sound more impactful than Neuvillette could “Your Grace”, despite one being a noble title and another just a polite greeting. 

“Would you like to…?” Wriothesley extended his arm with an umbrella, without actually covering Neuvillette with it. In the past, as a part of playing a role of “normal human”, Neuvillette accepted such offers, though there were not many aside from Wriothesley who dared to approach him with it. But now, as he was a full-fledged dragon, at the height of his power and influence in this land, surely he could afford to discard this role? Surely he could afford to be himself at least in this?

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling and trying to sound as cordial as possible, so that Wriothesley would not think it was a slight against him personally. “Don’t take it as offense, but I actually like being under the rain.”

The Duke smiled back, shaking his head.

“No offense taken, but why didn’t you say it last time? I felt like an idiot forcing you under an umbrella.”

“Really?” Neuvillette perked up, falling in step with the human. “You could tell that I…”

“Hated it? Yeah, for sure.”

“....prefered not to have an umbrella.”

Wriothesley let out a low, guttural bark of laughter that somehow got to the dragon despite him not being interested in humans in general.

“Not only I could tell I disturbed you, but I had to walk on the flowerbed to get to you, and then I trailed dirt in the Palais while everyone here glared at me for the audacity. Meanwhile you walked on the same dirt, but stayed pristine!”

“I’m sorry for…”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

Neuvillette met the greyish blue eyes of thawed ice directly and sensed that he was truly not bothered, which didn’t make much sense. But Wriothesley was one of the very few humans who was not scared in the dragon’s presence. He was, probably, the only one who emanated only positive emotions at their meetings. Neuvillette mostly encountered negative reactions in his daily life at the trials, so he could not tell apart which positive feelings exactly that he read from Wriothesley due to the lack of exposure. But perhaps…

“I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome at the Palais,” Neuvillette said after a short pause.

Wriothesley grinned with a careless shrug.

“Then I will be there, even if the rest of your bureaucrats make faces. As I said, don’t worry.”

Neuvilette frowned, but didn’t see much point in pressing this further. After a confrontation with Navia, the dragon realized that his lack of understanding of humans hindered him, instead of making him truly impartial. Especially now that he was de facto in charge of the entire Fontaine government. And practice showed that only direct interaction with humans could give valuable experience, as watching from the Iudex seat did not allow him a nuanced understanding. 

So perhaps, if Wriothesley was a rare human who was not scared of him, and he proved rational and trustworthy in the years they knew each other, Neuvillette could confide in his true nature and maybe ask for advice in understanding humanity?

“Perhaps staying for some tea would make up for this past offense?”

Wriothesley stumbled for a moment.

“Seriously?” He sounded as casual and ironic as usual, but the surprised burst of positive emotions from him was bright and obvious. “After all these years you finally decided to deign my humble office with your presence?”

“It’d be a completely unofficial visit, of course.”

“Sure, sure. It was never my secret plot to bribe you with a tea party, trust me, even I realize my tea is not that good.”

His voice was ironic, but for a moment Neuvillette could see his crooked grin turn into a genuine smile. So, reassured that he was not imposing, Iudex nodded and followed the human into the Fortress’ entrance.

_________

The inspection itself was mostly a formality. The Court of Fontaine technically had no direct authority over Meripode, but it provided guards and substantial resources, and so it had a right to oversee the use of these assets. The actual budgeting was done on the regular in behind the scenes reports though, as the data was not visible in the in person visit. Still, it was a time honored tradition that got Neuvilette to show up regularly.

“Take a seat. It will take me a minute to make tea.”

Neuvilette gracefully sat down on the visitor’s chair In Wriothesley office, folding his hands on the cane. He still sat with a ramrod straight back and perfect posture, but there was a certain lightness to him today, which was hard to put into words. 

“The inspection is over, yet you are still nervous.”

Wriothesley knew he had a poker face good enough to cover it, yet Neuvillette saw it anyway. He had theorized for a long time that the Iudex could sense emotions, but usually he would not acknowledge it directly like this. “I wasn't nervous about the inspection to begin with. But inviting a high and mighty Iudex himself to the tea for years and then disappointing him when he finally accepts would be a devastating faux de pas. They will mock me on the first pages of all the papers tomorrow.”

Neuvillette frowned slightly.

“I must underline that I’m not here in any official capacity, and I would hope I’m talking to Wriothesley, not the Warden or the Duke. If you agree, I would ask that we leave the titles at the door.”

“No, of course,” Wriothesley, who had fantasized about leaving titles at the door and then clothes on the floor for actual years, said quickly, frantically recalculating how he could turn the tea party to wine tasting, which best wines he had confiscated in his storage and how he could make turning on the gramophone and then maybe leaning against the edge of the table in front of Neuvillette look natural and smooth. “Absolutely. I was just joking anyway, don’t mind it.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize, I’m unfortunately prone to missing humorous intent, so I appreciate your clarification.”

With how far the Iudex went out of his way to assure people of his good intentions in informal situations, Wriothesley really didn’t understand how everyone found him so intimidating. Especially because he very often had to interact with assholes in positions of power who did try to intimidate him on purpose and the contrast was very apparent. Neuvillette projected an aura of power without really wanting to, and then tried to over-explain himself to make others feel at ease. His earnest awkwardness was something like the clumsiness of a huge beast like an elephant trying not to step on the gaggle of kittens at his feet.

“In any case, there is nothing to be nervous about. After all, tea is liquid, and it’s really hard to make liquids unpleasant. So far I think only Fonta truly managed it.” Neuvillette drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at Wriothesley. “To be frank, if crimes against water could be prosecuted, Fonta would receive life in prison.”

Wriothesley snorted. “So no sugar in your tea, I take it?”

“No, thank you,” Iudex said politely and then, after a short pause, “And to clarify, I was not serious. There is nothing wrong with people liking sugary drinks, of course. I was just making an attempt at a joke.”

He really was horrendously bad at pretending to be a human. How could anyone hear him talk and still believe he’s a scheming manipulator was beyond ridiculous.

“No, I got it. It was a good joke,” The Duke grinned, placing a teacup in front of Neuvillette and sitting down across the table with his own.

Neuvillette gave him a graceful nod with a little smile and picked up his cup, giving it a swirl before tasting.

“Hmm. Interesting. Poignant. Bitter,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head. 

Wriothesley was about to mention that this sort was not usually bitter, but Iudex continued. 

“Not by nature, but forced by circumstances. Not nearly enough water to be nourished, so it had to adapt and conserve strength, letting leaves seen as unimportant to die and concentrate on survival of the main branches. But there is not just hunger… there is a dream of rain. An ache of something not ever known, but yearned, longed for, without realizing what it is. But then…” Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. “It happened. There is a memory of luminous joy of water not gathered by mere drops, but drank in full, overwhelming, a feast after a life of fighting for scraps of morning dew. It had tasted rain at least once in the end.”

Wriothesley put his own cup down, leaning forward in disbelief.

“No way. This was a harvest from a drought year and it’s normally a mild sort, considered unusually strong in this season. How could you know this? Are you cheating?”

“You’re welcome to test me with other samples,” Neuvillette said with an air of a magnanimous ruler granting a boon and put the teacup down with a delicate clink. 

“Oh, I’m taking you up on your word, trust me,” the Duke grinned, but then paused. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he remembered how strongly Neuvillette felt about the perceived melusines conspiracy. Wriothesley had to tell him about the evil dragon idiots just to make sure he’s not thrown off balance later. That’s what the guard dogs are for, after all.

“Actually, before we move forward with testing your psychic tea reading abilities, there is something concerning official business that I think you should know. And then we can forget it completely.”

Neuvillette inclined his head with a small smile.

“There is a small group of conspirators, - and I must reiterate, it’s very small - who operate on the ridiculous idea that… uh, that you’re some kind of an evil dragon who schemed to overthrow Furina.”

Neuvillette's smile froze.

“You don’t have to worry about it, really. It’s negligibly small, and well, anyone with a working brain would not believe that you’re a monster in disguise.”

Iudex was silent for some time, not meeting Wriothesley’s eyes.

“Are melusines implicated in this?” he said finally.

“No. No, there’s no connection to them in this stupid theory.”

“Good. That's good. They do love living with humans so much.”

Wriothesley suspected that Iudex was taking things kind of out of proportion again.

“Listen, it’s really nothing…”

“No, no, I understand. It would be so unacceptably horrifying for humans to learn their ruler is a… monster.”

Neuvillette's voice wavered, but his face was impartial, strict, previous lightness gone completely. Wriothesley saw his hands tighten their grip on the handle of his cane a moment before he abruptly stood up.

“I must apologize for impropriety, but I have important business in the Palais which was inappropriate for me to neglect for so long. I must beg your leave to depart.”

Wriothesley stood up too, scraping to understand what he did wrong.

“Wait, it’s not…”

“Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley shut his mouth, the title feeling like a slap for the first time in his life. The formality and politeness somehow only made it worse. He took a deep breath and willed himself to sound calm.

“I hope you have a nice evening, Monsieur Iudex.”

Neuvillette left in what for his usual dignified pace could be considered a hurry. Wriothesley followed him without being seen, partly to make sure he doesn’t get bothered by inmates and partly on an instinct to investigate. 

At the Fortress’ entrance, he watched Neuvillette walk under the rain, lifting his head upward. The blue strands of his long hair glowed and so did his coat-tails. They extended, shining brilliant bioluminescent blue, trailing behind the Chief Justice, in a moment looking like fish’s fins, then the next - as colossal snake’s coils. Sea waves crashed against the ridge without any wind, rising high, reaching to a lonely glowing figure of Iudex. With bated breath, Wriothesley watched Neuvillette extend a hand, as if catching raindrops - and rain stopped mid-flight in the air, lingering over his palm, waves frozen cresting over the earth. The raindrops gathered in a shuddering spheres, and then stretched upwards, against all laws of gravity.  Wriothesley’s heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette closed his fist and the rain flew backwards to the skies.

Wriothesley stormed back into his office and frantically searched through the reports, pages flying about, until he found the one about vishaps. He looked at the photos, seeing similarities he would never look for before. The dark blue color of vishap’s hide was nearly identical to Neuvillette’s attire, but that was small beans, easily written off as coincidence. Their eyes, bright magenta with white vertical slice of a pupil, resembled Iudex, but there was room for debate, as his eyes were much paler, lilac merging into gentle blue instead of a bright pink, even as white vertical pupil was so similar. What really struck Wriothesley after all this, was actually the little blue feather at the side of the head of both vishaps and Neuvillette. It was identical and looked so… deliberate. It had to be chosen and placed precisely like this. 

Still, this was not enough. He needed more evidence. He needed… he needed answers.

He walked to Jacque's block as quickly as he could without alarming inmates, but when he got to the conspirator’s room, Jacque was sleeping on the bed and a man was sitting on the chair next to him, reading a book. He looked up when Wriothesley walked in and stood up, clumsily dropping the book. He was tall and gangly, had dark hair, Inazuman features and light brown eyes behind the glasses. 

“Who are you?” Wriothesley was really not in the mood for playing games.

“Well, my organization caught wind that you are interested in learning some… historical information, and our poor Jacque is really not the best source, which is why I’m here to answer any questions you have,” the man gave him a groveling smile. “You can call me Enjou.”

“Not here. In my office. Follow me.”

When they got there, Enjou whistled musingly.

“Uh, what a nice office! Must be a pretty sweet gig. I wish I had an office instead of slinking in dump ruins all the time.” He sighed theatrically. “So, I assume your main questions are on the vishap situation. I…”

“Wait,” Wriothesley said, walking up to one of his wall cabinets. “You can’t expect me to just believe you on your word.”

“Oh, of course, of course! You’re free to rough me up a bit first. Maybe a little bit of torture? But only a little bit, I’ve got a glass jaw, haha!”

Wriothesley didn’t live so long as an undisputed champion of fight club to not recognize a freak who gets off on pain. He grimaced, walking up to the table where Enjou was already trying to rifle through the papers. He stopped with an apologetic grin and put his hands up. Wriothesley put a glass vial on the table.

“Drink.”

Enjou raised his eyebrows.

“Are we dining and wining first or?...”

“It’s a truth serum,” it was a secret project of the Sumeru Akademiya, before the sages were overthrown. Dendro Archon reportedly could read the thoughts of people, and sages were trying to replicate the effect at least partially. Wriothesley came into possession of it after using his network to get the sages connected to the needed people in Fontaine institute, as Fontaine was at the cutting edge of mech technology and the sages were apparently building an artificial god. Didn’t pan out for them, but the serum worked. Wriothesley was sure of it, because he tried it on himself first.

“Oh! How exciting! How does it work? Will it perhaps burn my insides in agonizing pain if I lie?”

“Drink,” Wriothesley said through gritted teeth.

Enjou smiled and drank the vial in one shot.

“Well, nothing is burning so far, but the evening is young, haha,” he said, smacking his lips.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Why are you here?”

“Huh? What do you mean? To explain the history to you, as I said.”

“Because of the goodness of your heart? What’s your agenda? Your goal?”

Enhou cleared his throat.

“Well, first of all, I do believe in uncovering and spreading so-called “forbidden” knowledge. But with your particular case can you really question my agenda? I didn’t come to you first. You were the one who sought us out. I didn’t even want to be here! I was doing my own thing without knowing about you, to be honest! But, well, I am in an organization with some unfortunate morons who thought that recruiting a convenient idiot and then sending him into underworld prison to make sure he isn’t heard is a great plan. And then when the Warden takes note of the idiot and gets him to blabber, these same morons go, Enjou, you have to get there, because you’re a vishap expert! Ugh.” 

Enjou shook his head in seemingly sincere frustration.

“But um, yeah, I’m not trying to recruit you or anything. We know how you’ve disposed of House of Hearth agents and how you generally obstruct Fatui’s activity, and we just don't want you to do the same to us. Because we’re not your enemy! So I’m here to provide you with the necessary context to see that.”

Wriothesley drummed his fingers on the table.

“Okay. Start talking about Neuvilette and vishaps.”

“Well, Neuvilette is a Hydro Dragon, that should be obvious. To clarify, Hydro Dragon here means Hydro Dragon Sovereign, because technically all hydro vishaps are hydro dragons. If you didn’t know, which is understandable, as you’re more of a fighter type and not a bookworm like myself, haha, vishaps are primordial elemental creatures, original rulers of this land and mortal foes of humanity. Long before Archons, there were Dragon Sovereigns in charge of each element. Then there was a war with Celestia, specifics of which are not widely known, but we do know that Celestia won, dragons were largely eradicated and the huge chunks of powers of Sovereigns were taken from them and given to the Archons. Hydro Sovereign was killed.” 

Enjou made a dramatic pause, before leaning forward with a grin. “But you see, vishaps reincarnate. Neuvillette is a Hydro Sovereign reborn in a human shape. There was actually an Inazuman prophecy about it, recorded in the Byakuyakoku Collection. That Hydro Dragon will descend in a human form, and it specifically mentions a cane. This really baffles me, to be honest. How could they predict the cane? Why does he even need a cane? Surely not because of any weakness, he’s an immortal dragon, 500 years is very young for him. And the records say when Neuvilette took his position as the Iudex some 400 years ago, he already had a cane. Was he born with it? Like, had he sprung fully formed, with a cane? Did he pick it up as, I don't know, honorary agreement with a prophecy? Or were his fashion choices actually predetermined to the degree that the prophecy knew them millenia ago?”

“Get back on track,” Wriothesley growled.

“Oh, sorry. Hmm, this serum works by forcing you to spell your thoughts out loud, yes? Well, then it’s not my fault I’m even more blabbering than usual!”

Wriothesley clasped his hands together and said slowly, carefully watching Inazuman’s reaction. “Even if he is a hydro sovereign dragon, as you say, this alone does not make him evil, as your conspiracy claims.”

Enjou fixed his glasses. He really had the hands of a bookworm, no work calluses or fighting scars. But there were spots of reddened, peeling skin that looked like burns that didn’t get to fully heal before getting burned again.

“Did you miss the “mortal foe of humanity” bit? But okay, sure. This is Fontaine after all, presumption of innocence and all that. I mean, I can’t read his thoughts to tell you under oath that he’s evil, so don’t take me to court, hehe!” Enjou grinned, clearly pleased at his own joke. “But I can tell what I know and ask some questions. My first question is why, after losing a war and presumably being killed by Celestia, would an ancient dragon god want to serve a servant of Celestia? The Archon, who rules with what is actually his own power? Unless he had some sort of agenda, perhaps? And come to think of it, why would Hydro Archon put a mortal foe of humanity into a position of such institutional power?”

“Are you implying Neuvilette forced Furina to give him the position of Iudex?”

“Well, I wasn’t here!” Enjou raised his hands defensively. “But why else would he become the Iudex?”

“There are higher beings and gods serving archons in other nations. Like Liyue adepti serving Rex Lapis.”

“Morax was known as the prime of the adepti. None of them could compare with him at strength. Same with yokai and Baal in Inazuma, she was the strongest by far. It’s natural that they would accept servitude. But here…” Enjou glanced at Wriothesley with a sly smile. “If you had to make a bet on a direct fight between Neuvillette and Furina, who would you bet on? Come on, I know tales that her own court would not listen to her until the Iudex tapped his cane.”

Wriothesley couldn’t really argue with this. When the Primordial Sea started breaking out, he himself sent for Neuvillette and didn’t even think to ask the actual Archon.

“In that case, why didn’t he just kill her immediately? Why would he play the judge?”

“Well, you see, he would not get his power back from just killing her. It would just pass to the next Archon. No, the Hydro Archon had to destroy her own throne. And running out the ruler requires a long game, as you know very well yourself, You Grace.”

Wriothesley kept a calm face, but something must have given him away, as Enjou grinned predatorily.

“Next set of facts and questions. You know of the infamous Archon trial, of course? When it was revealed that fontanian people are actually oceanids, given human shape by the previous hydro archon, Egeria? And the prophecy of the flood works because Primordial Sea waters dissolve fontanians into their oceanid forms. Well, the flood actually came. Why were fontanians not dissolved?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me that.”

“Hehe, yes. It was because Neuvillette turned them into real humans with his powers of Hydro Sovereign. How generous of him, yeah? The question is, why did it take him so long? It’s been 500 years, and yet fontanians were made human only minutes before the flood.”

Despite a feeble bookworm posturing, there was a shadow of unhinged madness in his eyes, dangerous enough that in any other case Wriothesley would cut contact. But the stakes were too high right now. He needed to get all the information he could out of this lunatic.

“You might also remember that on the same trial it was proven that Furina is not a Hydro Archon. And I can tell you that the actual Archon, Focalors, was in the Oracle machine the whole time. Sorry, I’m not even trying to pronounce that full name, haha!”

The urge to punch this bastard was overwhelming, but Wriothesley kept himself in check, mostly because he could tell he was being baited into it and he didn’t want to give the piece of shit the satisfaction.

“Anyway, Neuvilette had an audience with her right after a trial, and as result she killed herself and gave him power back. You see, Hydro Archon doesn’t have the ability to turn oceanids into real humans. All of you were just… things, playing at being humans,” Enjou said with a smirk that looked more fascinated than mocking. “But Hydro Sovereign, the original god of life, does have the power to do so. And he also, conveniently, has control over the Primordial Sea, which you, Your Grace, already know as he stopped the flood in your own Fortress.”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow and Enjou smiled with a shrug.

“Again, I was not there! But I do know Hydro Sovereign controls the Primordial Sea, and that there is an entrance to the Sea in the Meripode Fortress. I also know that there was some emergency in the Fortress, where inmates were told to run as close to the surface as possible, and then Monsieur Iudex visited and the disaster was somehow avoided.”

Wriothesley frowned. 

“If he was really a mortal enemy of humanity, why wouldn’t he just let the gates of Meripode break and the flood happen right there and then? We would all be gone and he wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Instead he ran to help when I… when the Fortress called.”

“And what would that achieve? He still wouldn’t get his power back,” Enjou shrugged dismissively and then smiled, almost wistfully. 

“No, you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? And if the Archon who held my power hostage was relatively weak AND had the prophecy involving a flood of the Sea I control? Well, I’d infiltrate human society, take a position of high authority and make sure the humans not only see me as the personification of law and justice, but also respect me more than their own Archon. And when the prophecy deadline is coming up, I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.”

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out. 

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It was true, Wriothesley’s own informants reported that the Court loathed to give him a title, let alone as high as the Duke. Neuvillette was the only one who fought for him and fought hard, because usually Iudex’s one word was enough to make a decision, but here the stalemate lasted for two months. They wanted to compromise and give him the viscount, but Iudex wouldn’t budge, so in the end, they caved.

Wriothesley never asked Neuvillette for the title. Neuvillette never mentioned what he did for the Warden and never dropped anything even as close as a hint of asking anything in return.

Unless you see it as a part of centuries long game, where mundane favors didn’t matter, but being called first to the access of the Primordial Sea did.

“Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?” Enjou sensed blood in the water, like a proper shark would. “Then I would orchestrate a public court hearing to absolutely discredit the current ruler and corner the actual Archon. And when Focalors is forced to talk to me…. I would make a bargain. Saving the lives of all fontanians in exchange of getting my full power back and Focalors dying. Isn't it ironic that the dragon playing human was the one to turn human-shaped water things into actual humans?"

Enjou leaned back against his chair, grinning with satisfaction.

“And then I’d have an entire country loyal to me as a ruler, which would make a great foothold to use for attacking Celestia.”

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“You really expect me to take you on your word? You might believe it yourself, which will pass the truth serum, but the word of a lunatic is not evidence.”

“Oh, of course not! I would never expect you to take my lowly word for it. Instead, why don’t you take Monsieur Iudex’s word?”

Enjou made a dramatic gesture of spilling a heap of conches onto the table. Wriothesley raised his eyebrows, when the other man poked one of them awkwardly.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form,” a calm voice that was undoubtedly Neuvillette, said out of nowhere. “I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“This could be faked,” Wriothesley said automatically, just to argue, but his heart already fell.

“You wound me! These are his words, and I spent an entire night fishing them out for you, I’ll have you know. It’s quite hard to capture this. You’re welcome to listen to all of them and see for yourself.”

Almost against his will, Wriothesley reached out and touched one of the conches.

“…I shall fulfill my vow to judge all of The Seven in turn, even if the sky should fall and the ground give way.”

Wriothesley took an abrupt breath through his teeth. Enjou sighed and stood up.

“I think it’s better for you to listen to this alone. After, you’re welcome to reach out to us, but please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’ll see you soon, Your Grace!”

Enjou walked down the stairs, and by the time Wriothesley got to them, there was no one there. The Duke couldn’t bring himself to focus on that though. Instead, he walked up to one of the wall cabinets and took out a bottle of whiskey he was saving up as a possible gift.

He didn’t bother with the glass. He fell down into the chair in front of the conches and clenched his fingers on the bottle, icy veins springing up from under them. He took a sip and touched another conch.

“…my grievances with the usurpers have yet to be settled... They owe a debt of blood that shall not be forgotten.”

He drank, staring blindly into the distance, and listened, and the quiet words burned worse than whiskey sliding down his throat. He caught himself on a familiar thought. “This can’t be happening. This is too monstrous.” The same feverish thoughts he had when he discovered the truth about his foster parents.

As if by now he shouldn’t have learned that nothing is too monstrous in this world.

“As a survivor of the dragon race who has regained my full dragonhood, I must fulfill my oath and obligations even if it means returning all the water in the oceans back to the heavens.”

It really did sound exactly like Neuvillette. Wriothesley tried to find the lie, something that sounded fake, but not only the voice, but the cadence and word choice fit. And it sounded calm, impartial as usual too. And then there were hydro vishaps appearing in Erinnyes…

Fuck, was it really that easy to fool him? Was he really this big of a fool? He learned to distrust sweet words and warm smiles, and he was so sure that he wouldn’t get caught in the same lies ever again, even if he sacrificed his ability to love for this. But all it took was a seeming opposite, direct and harsh, too cold and intimidating to appear manipulative, but endearingly awkward just sometimes, just enough to make him believe that… That there was something true and clear in this rotten world. That he could trust in *someone*.

“Nothing will stop me from rendering judgment on each of The Seven.” 

He went through all of the recordings, frantically at first, wanting to find contradictions, then, when none were found, numbly re-listening to the few that hit the worst.

“…also the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity. “

Wasn’t it too obvious in hindsight? Why would the Iudex stake his own reputation on Wriothesley’s title? How could you not see it coming? Oh, because you thought you “deserve” it for turning this dog-fighting pit of a prison into something with a modicum of fairness? Because you thought he recognized your redemption? Gods, what are you, fucking fourteen again, did you learn nothing, why would anyone ever care about you, you naive goddamn idiot?

Soon, the bottle was somehow almost done. At this point he was running one recording on repeat, mindless and purposeless except for repeating slashes of pain, familiar rhythm like the knife on his wrists years ago.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry." Whoever had penned that rhyme, as well as the Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the Hydro Dragon all that well, considering that they thought the Hydro Dragon could cry. What did they take said Dragon for, some sort of bleeding heart who grieved for humans and the heavens alike?”

If this was true… If this was true, then Wriothesley didn’t just get fooled himself. Then he helped a monster take control of the country and potentially use it in war against heavens. 

He clenched his hand and it took him a moment to realize he broke the bottle he was holding in it. That pain from glass pieces in his palm felt small and distant now. But at last, it spurned him into action.

If this was true, he only had one shot. He’d already told Neuvillette of the dragon conspiracy, like a good little idiot eager to please. And any tyrant worth his salt would make sure to take him out after his, especially now that he outlived his purpose in giving access to Meripode vaults. He might have some time because of how oblivious he was, dismissing the conspiracy openly, but it couldn’t be long. 

He couldn’t take his time. He couldn’t hope for the better. He had to act like it’s the worst option possible. More than anything, he needed to confront Neuvillette, dragon Sovereign or not. He had to fix this, no matter the cost.

He realized he needed leverage. Brute strength was out of the question. Even before the flood, Neuvillette absolutely destroyed Fatui Harbinger in one flash, quicker than anyone in the audience could see what happened. Wriothesley would put himself against Harbringer with no hesitation, but he wasn’t an idiot. If this was how powerful Iudex was before, then after allegedly gaining his full power, there was no way Wriothesley could threaten him. No, he needed something else.

He took out the paper and wrote a note, taking care to not stain it with blood. Fortunately, he held the bottle in his left hand, so he could keep it out of the way.

“....and so confess that I, Wriothesley, Warden of the Fortress of Meripode, killed Chief Justice, Iudex Neuvillette.”

He finished the note and carefully put in his signature, then folded the paper into an envelope and closed it with his personal seal. Then he walked up to a safe, one of the hidden ones, and punched in a code. When the safe opened, he rummaged in it for a moment, until finally taking out two vials.

This was sold to him as the poison that could kill a god.

[thornswoggled]

yori is fumiki and heres why: my manifesto

or: wait, we werent all on the same page about this?

i should have written this when i first read chapter 98, but im only getting around to it now. this is less me trying to convince you, the reader, and more hoarding all my collected thoughts on why yori is absolutely fumiki, if its a red herring its a silly one, and if he isnt or if its left ambiguous forever i will eat crow. here we go:

before i start let me say most of my evidence is the way yamazaki frames him visually rather than solid "proof." comics are an artform, theres a reason things get framed the way they do, and her artistic choices in ch 98 (i feel) are meant to serve as a big blinking neon light that says "you should be feeling this way about xyz right now"

iic, there were rumblings of "the young auditor" being fumiki as far back as his introduction in ch 51 due to to his unique ability:

which is essentially a refined version of fumikis innate ability to keep fae away. we know yori is part of a "family business," and it seems appropriate that with the proper training, he would be able to freeze fae in their tracks rather than simply ward them off

unfortunately this is where "evidence" ends and "vibes" begin

chapter 51 didnt get adapted into what was otherwise a pretty faithful adaptation in season 2, and i understand why - theres a lot going on, and this chapter is fairly out of left field. but theres one other quip that got left out of season 2:

this is a one-off thought that wouldnt have been difficult to include in the anime. imo, i believe this line from ch 62 didnt get animated because we hadnt met fumiki yet like we did in the manga. now, onto more recent chapters... (under a read more because this is going to get pretty long)

chise and yoris first meeting is framed in a very purposeful way. in chapter 98, elias is preoccupied with ousting all the outsiders so that he and chise can be alone, stuck on the idea that "christmas is for family only:"

and three pages later, who do we meet?

im really struck by the way chise and yori are drawn together here. personally, i dont read this as "chise is meeting a new unimportant side character," this is "the strings of fate have pulled us miraculously back together again"

waiter! waiter! can i get an order of drifting sakura petals and sparkles with this panel? am i waxing poetic here or do you see it? the way theres no background drawn here, no other characters, even in later pages when we know elias is standing right behind chise, he doesnt get included in frame so that its just the two of them:

while im at it, can we appreciate how theyre wearing the same outfit? black pants and a hip-length dark coat/sweater with oversized pockets, a collar, and six left-sided buttons. yoris dark gloves also evoke chises cursed arm here but i dont want to risk looking like a maniac any more than i already do. i mean... dude, look at them, theyre matching

speaking of matching, lets pop back to 51 for a sec

both yori and chise have canine familiars! actually, it looks like yori might have multiple - look at all those pokeballs i mean bamboo tubes in his coat. if my memory serves, we didnt know yori was japanese at this point, but everyone assumed so because of the appearance of this familiar... which was another log on the "this might be fumiki" fire

fun fact: this little dude is almost certainly a kuda-kitsune, which were said to be kept in tubes and summoned by a soothsayer, who could use it to perform curses, or tell the past and future

and the drama with which we find out his "name":

"i bet you were expecting me to say fumiki, huh. good luck im not giving you that this early you have to work for it." as far as aliases go, "ri" could be derived from "hatori," but neither of the kanji in "fumiki" can be read as "yo," so its probably just random

after yori leaves, we get another repetition of "christmas is for family," which at this point feels like yamazaki is leading us to water and dunking our head in it:

i think its awfully convenient that ruth was absent for chises exchange with yori. do you think he would have been able to smell that theyre related? or whiffed the kuda-kitsune in his coat?

right after this, too, we get this line from elias which i have been thinking about a lot:

theres a few different ways this could be read, so im not married to any one interpretation, but it could be foreshadowing "if chise decides to pursue a relationship with her estranged family, what will i do then?" as gabriella would say, "i hate to be a third wheel"

given what we have seen of yoris aloof personality, i have to imagine there will be drama if/when the reveal is made. sadly i can picture him actually pushing chise away if she tries to reestablish a relationship with him

now! that is pretty much where my thoughts end, but i do want to share questions/doubts i have:

if yori read all of simons reports to determine he was an unfit observer, there is no way he doesnt know chises full name. i wonder whether he had any reaction to it? he may assume that its just a coincidence. i briefly wondered if the hatori name was an invention by yuuki, until i remembered that the family chise stays with in the OVA also has the same name. unless yuuki was adopted by another family like seth...? dont mind me, im going pepe silvia mode over here

have i mentioned i talked about yuuki before in another theory post? take it with a grain of salt, i already got proven wrong on one front now that jasper has been introduced

will yuuki be reintroduced if fumiki is? i desperately want chise to get that closure, but this scene from ch 42 has a sense of finality to it, a sort of "you will never get to resolve things with your father or see his side of things" stank:

... actually, now that ive mentioned the kuda-kitsune, can we look at this thing again?

another word for the kuda-kitsune is "izuna," which is read in modern japanese as "weasel." could the critter whos watching yuuki here come from the same place as yoris familiars? yuuki leaves his family immediately after this - getting summoned maybe?

okay, okay, let me stop myself here before i start looking like im ranting and raving. can we talk about the mail, please, mac? ive been dying to talk about the mail with you all day, ok? "pepe silvia," this name keeps coming up over and over again. every day pepe's mail is getting sent back to me. pepe silvia! pepe silvia! i look in the mail, and this whole box is pepe silvia!

if youre a fence-sitter, what are your thoughts? do you think we just dont have enough evidence yet? inquiring minds want to know

[12amphantasm]

People always meet you with reverence, “Father Andrew!”, they greet when you walk past, admiration heavy in their voices. They love you for how pious you are, friendly and loving, your patience and generosity.

And you love them, too. Just like the place you have stayed in for nearly twenty years, the huge complex composed of a humble yet luxurious church, the boarding school for troubled youths, the small but very warm house for the elderly, and the nearby university of theology - together known as The Hillset Private Conservatory.

God loves it all, every flower, every human, and whatever it might be that’s walking through these halls. __

The game is 18+ and meant for an adult audience.

Although the romance is strictly MxM, sexuality is relevant only for the romantic routes and the game can be played without engaging in intimate relationships, but at the expense of background information the player won’t be able to get in other ways. __

The game will be uploaded in parts, starting at least with 10k words. Planed release: Late April/early May 2024 ___

Written by a gay man, the romance is MxM only and stays true to reality, portraying genuine gay relationships, without stereotypes and harmful tropes.

“We Are God’s Most Beloved” is an old-school text-heavy interactive fiction novel and recommended to those who love reading.

Choices are meaningful instead of flavour and used only when they have an actual impact, this means there are long passages of text, which requires the reader to keep track of the story – just like they would with a novel. There is a lot to explore, attentive readers might find more game in this interactive fiction than one would expect.

The main genre is horror, even if nothing is outrageously explicit and often handled with a focus on the absurd, it contains horror-typical themes and tropes such as blood, body horror, surreal imaginary, and other commonly used elements.

In addition, mental illness, dysfunctional familial relationships, and physical assault play an important role depending on which route is chosen.

Hillset Private Conservatory, build in 1802, despite its long history, is a name few people know or have ever heard, and if one is aware of its existence, it’s rarely for good reasons.

Rumours have it that the owner was a paranoid man and the gigantic complex created solely to have a spacious cage for his family, namely his eight children, only for all of them to find an untimely death on this very property.

"It's haunted!", some say. "It's evil!", some claim.

Of course, nothing of that is true, the many teachers, counsellors, nuns, and priest can attest to that, and so would many of their students. At least a good portion of them. Maybe some, at least.

Now summer vacation has ended, and a new batch of fosterlings is about to arrive; frightened, misguided, and troubled teens in need of loving care, education, and a new chance at life.

Father Andrew, the only acting priest, will do his best, like always, to show them God’s brilliance and create a warm home out of these century old walls.

No railroading, no hand-holding

Life is full of choices, you have to make your own and live with them, ultimately missing out on certain things, or ending up utterly regretting what you did. There is no right or wrong, no road I, more or less sneakily, force you to take, choices are all equally valid and accounted for. ___

A fixed protagonist

Father Andrew is a fixed character, with his own likes, dislikes, appearance, and convictions. But how he navigates the world, how he reacts, who he becomes fond of or rather avoids, his interactions and how he lives his life, and, of course, what you learn about him, is up to you. ___

One end to rule them all

There are no bad endings or early finishes, all choices lead to the same endpoint, but how it looks like… is on you alone. ___

No stats

“We Are God’s Most Beloved” doesn’t require you to master stats, the story changes based on your choices, how you interact with the world and characters determines the options you will have, who likes or hates you, and how the story will play out. ___

Explicit - Yes or No?

You can choose to either read explicit sexual interactions or go for fade-to-black. ___

Romance

Three romantic interests are waiting to meet you, but you can play the whole story without romancing anyone, at the expense of sexual moments, additional plot-points centred around these characters, and potentially interesting background information.

No indicators are used, you have to find your own way, going by what you know about a character, evaluating the current situation, and acting accordingly.

Use the relationship stats to figure out what you did right or wrong, you have successfully entered a romantic route with a RO when the percentage reaches 50% and will deepen, or lessen, the relationship from then on.

There are no poly routes, entering one will lock you out of the others, and while you can’t lose a route once entered, how the couple ends up is based on your actions.

Keep in mind that “love” comes in many forms and players might find it worthwhile to forge bonds with other characters.

Profiles - Here

Father Andrew

Thirty-three years old, he was admitted to Hillset boarding school for troubled youths at the tender age of fourteen and hasn’t left the complex since. He’s very out of touch with the outside, basing his worldview, manners and morals on the old nuns and priests that raised him, often colliding with the new students’ modern ways. Friendly, polite and helpful, he’s easy to get along with on first glance but hard to truly get to know, which leaves him without friends and often rather lonely. __

Sister Lucia

Thirty-five years old, she’s one of the younger nuns but the strictness with which she loves doesn’t pale in comparison. She’s very fond of Father Andrew, who is her inspiration and has warped the image of how a priest should be until it became unrecognisable. Her hobbies are flower-arrangements, cooking things no one who loves their life should eat, taking care of the children in their school, and writing in her journal. __

Ẻ̶̛̬̲̀͋͑v̷̟̫̌̄͂ẻ̵͙̆̎͐l̸̨̙̠̻̜̐͌̓̂ͅͅy̵̡̲̼̔̑̾̀̀͐n̶̻̰̬͛͂͊̏̕͜͠

They might or might not be human. --

Moby

They definitely aren’t human, but God loves them anyway.

The love interests

Ryan Harris

Twenty-four years old and a student of Theology, he’s a graduate from the boarding school for troubled youths. While not overly intelligent, he’s diligent, curious, and not afraid of hardships. Father Andrew’s liturgy is his favourite part of the week and helping out something he takes pride in, as he does in his paintings that are full of creative flair and appreciated only by those with strong artistic sense. __

Connor Price

Thirty-one years old, he has been teaching English for eight years at a famous school and will do so from now on at Hillset - even if only because other schools refused to take him. He doesn’t like the enormous complex, dated appearance, long, dark halls, how everyone is just too nice, and Father Andrew, who somehow gives him the creeps. Connor spends his time reading, avoiding coworkers, and having long talks with the elderly in their care. __

?

You have to find that out on your own.