#they just need to be more organized and not fear big teams because they are HUGE best volleyball nt of all times

[mangabacaxi]

about brazil men's volleyball

[crying-fantasies]

Rejection

"You have them on?"

"I do, I swear I have them, I just need to get this off-"

"Look me in the optics when you say that, you won't touch anything if your little freaky organic servos-!"

"I do, I do! Just, please, stop moving like that!", pleas are laced with desperation and righteous fury, one he wants to shred from your little mouth, but there is this tremor on his open armor that goes from helm to pedes when your little fingers wrapped in synthetic gloves roam on his bare protoform to take out shattered bullets, the sensation is ripping him apart between launching you out of the window and away from him or just stay still as Sideswipe looks at you both while grinning like a complete fragger or, worse, stay still and shut up before Ratchet finally snaps that wrench on his servo against his helm.

Mech, please no is what his new conscience pleads too and so he has to follow, be stiff and feel how your fingers move, shaking, finally being fast and sharp when Ratchet says your name like a stern mentor and pulling sharp fragments with the help of a little steel gadget.

He can't think of it, being totally honest it would be more like he isn't the one thinking of it but his brother, who looks with barely contained interest how you work, it's embarrassing how Sideswipe doesn't even try to cover the interest he has for you over Sunstreaker's open arm and moving like a new medic and is also dragging him in feeling the same, it's worse than his brother, since he can feel your absurd weight over him like a constant pang on the back of his processor, it's degrading, since Ratchet seem to know what is going on and can only look more tired than he already is and Sunstreaker's situation is getting worse because the last he needs is to have Ratchet asking what is going on!

But for Sideswipe things were getting back to normal, somehow.

"Hey there, Sunny! Here comes our team's best player!", Sideswipe has taken to hold you as if you were some kind of small animal or a stuffed one before letting you rest next to Sunstreaker, who frowned at you with all the fury on his massive body before directing it to his brother.

"Sides, I swear-"

"No, no, doc's order", he put you nearer to the yellow bot with a grin so wide, you wanted to throw your shoe to him, Ratchet isn't anywhere in sight but his mere name is the only thing keeping the brothers from destroying each other, "you shouldn't move, so our favorite human is here to help you rise to health again".

"Which piece of scrap metal said that?", When he gets better he will rip their arms from their frames.

"I don't know, everyone?", and obviously Sideswipe gets to ridicule him even more while pushing you nearer to his side.

You wanted to hide and escape, Sunstreaker wanted to punch his brother in the face.

But repetition makes everything fall to some routine, you're ready with your backpack full of books, homework and your reliable laptop when Sideswipe comes to pick you up and back to Sunstreaker resting body, the fear has lessened but is still very much alive, for now your best choice to avoid touching him directly is using blankets, but Sunstreaker is a high-end bot and your wallet is still bleeding from purchasing an obnoxious yellow cashmere blanket and another one of vicuna, which is made from an animal in verge of extinction just to know how expensive that one was too, that has taken most of your savings only to please him, he didn't even say thanks, just looked at it once before giving his approval with a nod, he didn't even talk or looked at you, always treating you like a nuisance he tolerated to please Sideswipe.

Before you should've looked at Sideswipe for help, but he beamed when you dragged the expensive and eye hurting piece of fabric on a big and equally eye-catching expensive bag and presented you with it to his brother and even into a zipper bag.

They were both in this, or more like Sideswipe was dragging Sunstreaker in the whole mess, like when you first meet them, and that was hell; at least the vicuna one was nice, just what you need to roll into in order to escape from any stress around.

Just like having someone, not bot, calling out your name in the Ark.

Most of the time you're next to Sideswipe, Sunstreaker too in recent days, and while it is understandable to say you should be more familiar with the other humans there has never been a real occasion to get to know them better since they apparently know one another way before your arrival.

So imagine the surprise when Hunter starts to make little conversation with you, starts to eat with you and even gives you sandwiches from who knows where because he is under extreme care after what happened the last time and totally banned from being out of the Ark like Jimmy and Verity, and everything is new because you're interacting with humans near your age range, you really are and that part of your brain which is a sociable creature is producing chemical happiness only by being in a group that recognizes your existence after so long.

It's good, fantastic, really, and you tell Sideswipe so after stopping him from picking you up one day to stay more time with the others.

You still ask to yourself if some word was rude or... Not exactly sure how to explain why he looked so down, nor why you tell Hunter no in the end and go back to Sides who is absentmindedly on his habsuit but almost jumps out of his oversized bed to greet you before asking for a favor.

Far from their shared habsuit, Sunstreaker is doing something that makes one of the most stupid but important things he has been getting ready for, moving as he can while most of his wounds are now repaired, his pride damaged beyond repair when he feels the movement on the door, there isn't much to expect when he already knows who it is, the human, well, no longer only human, Hunter, is standing just there, a bag full of the supposed essentials on his shoulder, Sunstreaker can't say anything, can't scoff at his organic nature's features that need aid of such mundane things nor can he make a joke about it.

Because he is very much headless with Hunter walking to him, is the middle of the night cycle and no one knows what they are going to do, the deal they have done.

Sunstreaker can't and will not leave his head to human supposed scientists to play with, Hunter wants to stop hearing him and, even if he denies it both ways, he feels bad for the mech.

"It was about time", Sunstreaker gets down the medbay berth room as fast and coordinate as he can in his state, is little more easy when he uses the bond to look through Hunter's eyes, guiding him in some way even if he is going to deny it later.

Hunter, already familiar with his attitude, can only sigh and get near to the mech's pedes, "sorry, I tried to say goodbye to some of the guys", well, he at least did to most of them, Jimmy and Verity seem to have catched onto something rare happening and maybe he didn't have to do it, seems that Sunstreaker hasn't even talked with his own twin about this, as for you, he only got to say bye hurriedly because you were fast to go with Sideswipe.

The thoughts pop up and it's normal, but he is already feeling the slow movement of Sunstreaker's body, if he had his head on, it would have been the same as if the guy was about to stomp on him, "If you're gonna court Side's pet do it when we get back, better to check that one out fast" he is talking alone, again, while moving around the room and expecting the next movement of the human.

Hunter's voice is sincere, like always, it's strange, because their voices are starting to sound the same and is reaching the point of it to be unnerving, to both of them, "You get that I wasn't the one initiating it or that I can't exactly stop it, right?", The mere idea makes him remember some of the most crazy and high daze induced alien movies he has ever seen on his life, of course most alien movies don't even make full sense of reason, but now that the he is a part of the real deal-

"What does that mean?" His tone is dangerous in everyway, but Hunter has learned to round those up and return back with a response, long gone are the days in where he cowardly shut his mouth against Sunstreaker.

"Means what it means, dude", he changes, his body does now, and he has a new view when Sunstreaker links them both, looking whole again in one of the windows that reflects them, Sunstreaker loves himself more than anything, but Hunter can't stop the disgusted expression in the glass and looks back at him.

"Means what you can tolerate now, I guess", there is just so much they can take from one another, or how much they can tolerate, being Hunter the holder of the almost never ending peace if it's needed, keeping Sunstreaker down, or at least to listen, is hard as it is, so imagine his surprise to the internal notifications popping in front of him when he notices you are also there, the body almost jumping backwards in order to stop any collision, looking like you just saw a ghost, a nightmare, and they don't need to ask about it.

You just saw Hunter became Sunstreaker's helm, but you can't let that show, there is only one certainty, this bot is Sunstreaker, maybe, he is looking at you with hardly covered disgust as always, but Hunter knows best and he can see every alert of their shared HUD telling him to avoid confrontation after a second passing notification gave the protocol of auto preservation to knock you out int that moment.

No matter how much Sunstreaker denies it or how much this seem surreal for Hunter, the mech cares for you, way too much.

"Sides-", you change your words, looking around, the yellow blanket that Sunstreaker likes so much on the zipper bag as always and it makes him stop on his steps, "Sideswipe told me to have a sleepover with you".

Of course the little fragger did, it doesn't seem out of sense, "Listen to me, human, I-".

"No, you listen to me", well, that's new, all this time you have cowered away, kept your mouth tightly shut and you head low everytime he said something, apparently now you're growing some courage, Sunstreaker isn't sure if he hates it or if he likes it he likes it, he likes it a lot, "Whatever is happening I don't really want to know, but", it seems like what you want to say is being held back by some kind of restraint, but you force it out when Sunstreaker is about to leave, "but please think of Sideswipe", your voice is a mere whisper, not even Red Alert would have heard it, to that much all the courage in your body sums up at it seems, and while Hunter feels bad for you Sunstreaker doesn't show the same sympathy.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Sides or you", his resolution is final, even when Hunter tries to negotiate the situation, but it's wasted time, you aren't even near the alert bottom, there is no way you can say to anybot that he is out of the medical bay or on his way to who knows where.

Still, the fire ignited on you doesn't stop, it keeps growing, "That spark isn't only yours", he is having enough of this, you acting all though, exventing, tired, and practically leaving you to whisper like a mad thing alone in your own chatting, "it's also Sideswipe's, he may say he is good alone but he needs you, you need him-", he makes a sound with his vents, like a scoff, and while Hunter can't believe Sunstreaker is really going to leave you there, embarrassed, in the verge of tears, the raise in volume do get their attention, both stop dead on their way when you really had enough, "you weren't here!", as if your daring didn't know any limits now you did shout, and Sunstreaker is almost sure at least one bot may have heard you, while he looks at the still empty corridors, "you weren't here, you didn't see him almost going into whatever equivalent you have of alien depression! You weren't here and now you must be because Sideswipe-!"

"This doesn't have anything to do with Sideswipe, this is my thing, my business and my personal matters so give me a break and go back to whatever cave you came from", he hissed back, low but the threatening of his words is still there, it doesn't stop you, there is a crazy tint on your eyes while you point a finger at him.

"You, you, you, it's always about you!", now you're full on screaming, almost shrieking, a limit being finally broken, "I don't care about you!", Hunter has to shut up before saying anything, because your words seem to have been a low blow, hate permeating all your words, "I never cared for you, I care for my friends! I care for Sides! And you are the fucking shit that comes along with him, I don't care what you do or if you go die, I would be happy if you did it alone but I don't want to lose Sides because of you!", as if your words didn't stung enough you throw the blanket to the floor and it makes the expression of the mech to darken even more by an strange feeling, "leave Hunter behind, leave your spark behind!"

For a moment it seems like Sunstreaker is trying to reach out to you, maybe to kill you by your bravery, you would expect something like that from him, either way the autobots are coming, you made as much noise as possible and your throat is raw by it, but if they can stop whatever madness he is trying to do then so be it, but, far from touching you he goes for the blanket, the stupid, obnoxious blanket.

A vain mech, even when you're insulting him, the almost hurt expression he has doesn't even matter to you now.

There is no much to expect, you can already hear the autobots come and so he does, looking at you in a way that makes you shudder, scared of him, Sunstreaker doesn't have time for this and changes to alt mode.

You don't know nothing, he want to tell you, he really does, shout it to your face, but he really can't think of it when someone else is hearing his thoughts.

There is deafening silence, partially, only the sound of his tires can be heard and is all he wants to hear, he can also see- sense what he is feeling, and Hunter feels bad for him.

"Sunstreaker-"

"Don't-", his voice is hard, low yet powerful in a way he hadn't heard so far, "don't you dare say anything, I don't need it".

He says so, and Hunter prefers to not say a word about it, don't even mentionthe now shredded yellow blanket by his transformation seams on his back seat.

[amoneki-ramblings]

Also, your 'Amon stays in the CCG and works with Haise' AU is fantastic and should have been canon. Poor Amon misses Eyepatch terribly (he still has QUESTIONS damnit!) but doesn't want to get Haise (or Akira) in trouble, so he can't really say much, but he and Haise get suspicious of the CCG being corrupted. They investigate together, but they have to be discreet and they HATE IT, the CCG is supposed to represent justice! Inner!Kaneki drops hints and nags Haise in the background constantly.

YESSSSS GOD AMON AND HAISE NOT INTERACTING IN :RE WAS SUCH A MISSED OPPORTUNITY TO ME I WAS SO GENUINELY SURPRISED WHEN THEY NEVER DID

In the context of my AU I think Amon would feel so let down by the emergence of the Quinx project. He's spent all this time investigating the CCG's suspicious sides and almost uncovered what they were really aiming to do and then it just gets. Announced, just like that. That they're putting ghoul organs in people to use as weapons. It feels wrong. Everything clicks terribly into place. But he can't say anything. And Eyepatch is gone already (or so he Thinks) It all feels anti-climatic, somehow.

Then he meets this new investigator, who shakes his hand and greets him cheerily. He's being mentored by Akira. They are to treat him as a human unless he loses control, to which they'll treat him as a ghoul. It's Eyepatch. It's Haise Sasaki. Amon has to stomach the thought of both working with him and potentially having to "erase" him if he remembers who he is. He likes Haise, even if he's different from Eyepatch, but Haise might not be around forever, for one reason or another. He's never had to kill a co-worker or friend before. (I think, similar to Akira in canon :re Amon would be assigned a big role in leading squads when the CCG has to keep Haise under control. It only makes sense, he's done significant damage to him before, in half-kakuja form no less, and managed to escape this guy even without a weapon. And he's also like, one of the Only Guys who has ever killed a ghoul with his bare hands before.) Still though, the thought of killing Haise, whether it be with a quinque through the heart or the snap of a neck, is nauseating.

The CCG higher-ups are suspicious, obviously, because Amon is the only one who truly knows Everything about Eyepatch, and he might screw with Haise's memories. They're keeping an eye on him and make sure they don't get too close, unless Amon needs to confront Haise, since Haise, even when losing control, just can't seem to hurt him. Not really at least (if it ever does happen he feels So Guilty) ((Also sidenote but Haise probably visibly winces when he first meets Amon. His head hurts and he's not sure why. He feels melancholic and he doesn't know why. He feels a flood of relief. But he doesn't know why. He likes Amon a lot and wants to get to know him. The white-haired ghoul in his head seems particularly fixated on him, won't stop looking at him. Haise somehow knew Amon's name before he was even told what it was. He surmises that it's just because Amon is so well-known in general. (He knows, deep down, that it might be more than just that)))

Haise has small recollections of memories, but he can't tell anyone, obviously. Sometimes he has nightmares of flower fields and battles under the rain. When he and Amon get closer he tells him a little about them. "It's probably nothing" he laughs, unsure, but Amon knows what they really mean. He sees Eyepatch in Haise and it hurts terribly. He fears the chance that he'll never get to ask the questions he had, almost as much as he fears the chance that one day he suddenly will. The answers he's wanted for so long are so close that they are literally standing right next to him, yet they're so far.

As things move forward they definitely try to investigate and figure out the CCG's corrupt system together. But they have to be careful, on the outside co-workers (including Akira) make comments about how close they are and what a good team they make but within the inner-workings of the CCG they have their careful eyes on them. Maybe Akira's a little weary about it, tells Amon as such sometime and Amon says he knows (but there are things he can't tell even her.) Maybe one time Haise and Amon talk briefly, maybe after or during Haise losing control of himself and he says something and it sounds hauntingly like Eyepatch. Haise had looked at him differently during that moment. His voice sounded different. It was pained, but not in the physical sense. Maybe it wasn't Haise at all, actually.

Haise has a dream once about a man shouting asking him if he really is just a ghoul. Somehow he doesn't feel like it's for him. (But surely it means something to Kaneki Ken). Maybe, like in that comic I drew, Kaneki is incredibly relieved that Amon is alive, but also terribly jealous that all he can do is watch from the shadows LOL

Ough sorry I got SO carried away I've just been meaning to list out some of the details of my AU thoughts for AGES this has been living rent free in my mind for MONTHS it's one of my favorite thoughts Ever

It's insane, how many parallels are setup between Kaneki/Haise and Amon, yet Haise and Amon never meet once, even though Amon is foreshadowed constantly during :re. To be fair there is so much going on in :re already but still, man. Man,

[letsgetrowdy43]

Evangeline and Nico thoughts—

Au Masterlist!!

Nico and Angie have a very Golden retriever black cat type of dynamic. He's bubbly and loving, and she's more reserved and feels the need to prove herself to people in every aspect of her life.

Nico's unwavering support and affection served as a comforting presence for Angie during her first year, while her determination and quiet strength took over he was there every step of the way to create healthy goals and boundaries for herself. Together, they formed a unique combination—a duo whose contrasting qualities complement each other.

Nico falls first, but Angie falls harder in every way. He knew from the second he met her that he was in love, whether platonic or not, Nico knew that Angie would forever be a big part of his life. Whereas Angie took a lot of warming up to him, it started slow, but after being on the receiving end of his kindness she knew she was a goner for him.

Angie has a really hard time letting him in on such a personal level though, there's a big difference between the trust she gives a teammate and the trust she gives a partner and/or best friend. Luke and Jack hint at it often, Angie is a completely different person to them off ce than she is in the locker room, it's not hard to see that they view her as so much more than "one of the boys" and that's because they saw everything she put into getting to where she is today. Other people on the team never witnessed the tears and the pain that she went through in comparison to them.

It kinda hurts Nico a bit to be out of the loop of her life, but one day she just sits him down and explains it all, from the sexist interviews to the "Welcome to the NHL" video where they show her breakdown, she finally shows him just why she's constantly trying to show people that she deserves it just as much as all of the boys in the team.

Their romance is a whole other story; it was an unspoken rule of hers to not fall in love while making a name for herself in the league.

He's everyone's everything, he just has that quality that forces everyone to fall in love with him. It was hard to try and convince herself not to give in, especially since he's a teammate and the captain, and that lasts for a little over a year before she kisses him. which immediately fills her with regret.

He's smitten though, he wants Angie, he knows he wants her, and she runs away after kissing him he is immediately panicked and fearful that he just fucked everything up between them.

The second kiss is perfect though, his birthday, she gets him a gift, and he's so overwhelmed with emotions that he just kisses her right on the mouth. except this time there is no running, just her hands in his hair, a soft moan leaving her lips, and then next thing you know she is in his bed

Currently, they are playing a little game called "How long can this remain a hookup before one of us talks about labels," and to be honest neither of them knows where they could even go with this relationship knowing that it would be a frowned upon thing for the league and the organization.

I really wanna grow this au and talk about them more!! So if you have any requests or thoughts for these two please don’t be shy and leave them in my inbox!!

[heliads]

Okay

So

I think this is how you request? I’ve never requested anything before >w<

But before I do that I wanted to applaud you for all your hard work!!! You are such an amazing writer, one of favorites atm, and you definitely deserve some praise!!!

For my request, I’m not sure if you are still into Ouat or Peter Pan from the show, but I’m like, obsessed. I’ve had this soulmate idea in which Peter pan’s plan to steal the heart of the truest believer failed, so now he has to take the heart of his soulmate. This is harder for him because he doesn’t know how to love. He hates it out of fear of what it could do to him, yknow yknow? So he goes along with the plan and he captures her. He expects her to fight back but she doesn’t. In fact, she’s quite happy to give up her heart for him if it meant that she wasn’t useless. (She had no family other than her sister, who had recently died. She’s lived her whole life feeling unvaluable). Over the past few days, they get to know each other, and he starts to feel bad that he was her soulmate. Like, why does such a sweet girl have to be his??? How could she just be fine with giving up her heart, HOW COULD SHE BE FINE WITH HIM NOT LOVING HER WHEN SHE CLEARLY DESERVES ALL THE LOVE HE COULD GIVE HER?!?!

She just tells him that a soulmates job is to make their lover happy, and if this made him happy then she would gladly give him her heart. It’s not like he’s doing it just for himself anyway, he is doing it for all the lost children in the world.

After he finishes the setup necessary for the ritual, he takes his soulmate to Skull rock. By the point, Peter isn’t even sure if he wants to steal her heart anymore. Could he have fallen in love this quickly???

But she encourages him to do it, despite being frightened of it herself. Before he takes her heart, Peter asks her if she had any last words. She quietly mumbles that she loves him more to an anything. She then asks him if it will hurt, to which he responds by saying that he’ll numb the pain as much as possible.

Going against his better judgement, Peter kisses her softly as he takes her heart. She immediately passes out. Peter pan has big boy realization and can’t bring himself to kill her, so instead he puts her heart back in and kisses her in the hopes she will come back to him.

Insert fluffy ending here with more kisses!!

I am so so so sorry in advance if this is super specific or doesn’t make any sense. I’ve just had this idea stuck in my head for months and it won’t get out. Of course, you can add or change the idea to make it simpler for you to write!! Take as much time as you need and have an amazing day!!!

oh this idea >>

masterlist

Peter Pan is really out of luck. No, really. He says this about once a decade, when his latest plan for glory goes a little topsy turvy, but it’s real this time. Peter has finally caught his last break, found himself in a trap that he just can’t slip. Peter can name a fair number of people who’d be just delighted to hear that the King of Neverland has finally lost his way, but Peter himself isn’t one of them. 

That probably has to do with a little something about how he’s going to die. Peter always knew his life came with strings attached, namely the giant hourglass ticking down his last hours until he finally croaked, but for some reason he always thought that he’d be able to find his way out of it. Peter is a mastermind at exploiting loopholes, but despite all of his centuries of figuring things out in the nick of time, he may have just now met his match. 

Peter thought he had it settled when it came to the heart of the truest believer. Kidnap a kid and carve out his vital organ, that’s all it took. It should have been an easy task, too, certainly within Peter’s grasp. It’s a shame the truest believer also came with a team of die-hard do-gooders ready to tear the world apart to save their son, but who could predict something like that?

Henry Mills was Peter’s last chance, though. Or, to be specific, the last chance that Peter even remotely wanted to consider. He has explored all other opportunities, never given up hope on finding another way, but at last, he’s going to have to admit it. Peter is going to have to do the one thing he swore to always avoid. 

Peter can feel the eyes of the other Lost Boys on him now, silently waiting for him to make the inevitable call. They’ll support him in whatever choice he makes to save himself, of course; Neverland disappears when Peter dies. He’s sworn that he’ll ship them all off to safer shores should that day arrive, but no one wants that, either. The Lost Boys have always had a chance to leave, they just never took it because this life on Neverland was always preferable to anything else. 

He knows what he has to say, though. Peter has known it for a while. The one last gamble he could possibly deal, the last chance he will ever have to not die before a month is out—

His soulmate. 

This is the one option Peter was really hoping to avoid. Something about the whole soulmate affair has really bugged him all this time. Forget the odds of ever finding your soulmate when he’s immortal living on an island where no one could track him down if they dared, Peter isn’t the type of person who makes sense in the whole soulmates agenda. Peter doesn’t like weaknesses, and having someone out there who’s supposed to mean the world to you, love above all else, makes his skin crawl.

Technically, he supposes his soulmate isn’t a weakness at a time like this. In fact, his soulmate is going to be the only thing capable of making Peter strong again. See, if he wants to go on living, he can sacrifice someone else’s heart to the magic of Neverland:  that of his soulmate.

Anyone else would call it cruel. Peter is not anyone else, which is why he’s considering this. To be honest, he really hadn’t wanted to go anywhere near his soulmate, but he’s not so averse to the whole concept that he’d go into a grave rather than risk it. Peter clings to life like no one you’ve ever seen before, and he’s going to keep on doing it, soulmates be damned.

Peter can’t quite put a finger on why he has such a strong dislike of the soulmates thing. Maybe it’s because understanding the soulmate predicament would make him open to such weaknesses as love brings. Love is for fools who have nothing else to give, kids and blind men who would plunge a knife into their own chests if it meant meeting somebody who was supposedly meant for them. The only thing that Peter has ever needed in this world is his immortal youth, and if a soulmate were ever to get in the way of that, he’d take them out himself.

That’s the plan, at last. Peter doesn’t have to worry about the time it could take to track down his soulmate. He’s had his shadow keep vague tabs on them for no particular reason. He’ll tell himself it’s so he can head the other way if they ever draw near, but it’s not like that’s actually a good excuse. No one comes near Neverland unless they can avoid it or they’re one of his kind. Clearly, Peter’s soulmate would never be the type to fit in here, because soulmates are a sham. Peter refuses to believe anything else.

Still, he has to meet them, has to look them in the eyes as he carves the heart from their chest. It’ll be quick and clean, that’s all Peter needs. After that, he can live forever with another weight lifted from his shoulders. Two weaknesses removed from Peter’s world:  death and love. What more could he possibly want?

Peter actually goes to the trouble of locating his soulmate himself. This job needs to be clean, he can’t afford to have any more storybook heroes on his tail. Look how well that turned out with Henry. This is Peter’s last shot, after all; it happens without error or it doesn’t happen at all.

To his surprise, it’s relatively easy to find his soulmate. She’s walking alone at night when he finally comes to her world, trading a dimly lit house for a chilly twilight. The walls are silent, still as a grave, and the girl doesn’t look back once as she leaves. Strange.

Peter waits until she’s out of the line of sight of the house just in case, then starts following her. Once they’ve turned off of the street, Peter quickly closes the distance between them. The girl turns to stare at him, and her eyes widen. She must be feeling it too, then, the rushing feeling in her chest. Peter’s hit by it now too. He didn’t ever wonder what it would be like to meet one’s soulmate, so the reaction of being in such close quarters to the one person designed for him takes him by surprise.

Peter bites back an unwelcome smile and a rush of butterflies to his stomach. “I’m going to need you to come with me,” he says. He’s got a knife in his hand just so she gets the point. Like he said, no slip ups. Not this time.

He’s expecting a fight. That’s how Peter would react if someone approached him at night with a weapon, after all, yet for some reason his soulmate just nods. “Alright,” she replies.

Peter blinks in surprise. “Alright? I’m kidnapping you.”

“Alright,” she repeats, this time with a soft smile, “are you, though? You look really confused about it.”

“Yeah,” Peter says without thinking, “you seem like you’re not taking this seriously. Aren’t you going to try to run or something?”

The girl lifts a shoulder. “Where would I go? Besides,” she adds with a small laugh, “you’re my soulmate. That seems like a fascinating kidnapping to me.”

Peter thinks he’s gone out of his mind. “I’m going to kill you. This is not fascinating. I need your heart so I can live forever.”

His soulmate tilts her head to the side as if considering something, and then nods. “Okay.”

He must be crazy. “Why is that okay?”

The girl spreads her hands. “I have nothing. Nobody left, no family. It would be something to let someone live forever, wouldn’t it? Once you see enough death, you start to wish somebody could do it. If all it took was my heart, I think that’s a fair price. Where are we going, soulmate?”

Peter almost opens his mouth to stop her before he remembers that this is what he wants, someone willing to give up their heart so that he could live. This is actually the best possible scenario, but then why does his chest twinge with something almost like guilt when he nods and gestures towards the sky? And, upon seeing his soulmate’s face light up as she realizes that they’re to fly to Neverland, why does Peter feel like a monster for giving this girl a snapshot of all that she could have had if he hadn’t been afraid of her and taken her to his island for any reason other than sacrificing her heart?

It doesn’t matter what this girl thinks. What matters is Peter staying alive. He can focus on that, not the way the eyes of his soulmate shine with all the stars as they fly through the night air, how Peter feels more powerful than he’s ever felt before because they’re so close to each other. Y/N— he doesn’t remember asking her name, but he must have at some point because it’s now folded carefully within the depths of his memory— makes him feel strange. Better. More alive. 

It’s distracting, and Peter can’t take another distraction right now. He all but abandons her to the wilderness of the island when they touch down on Neverland, muttering something about needing to get something before disappearing again. 

To her credit, Y/N seems surprisingly good at navigating this strange new world. She finds her way to the Lost Boys’ camp within a few minutes, and by the time Peter plucks up the courage to head there as well, she’s already locked in conversation with a few of the boys. Even Felix is nodding along. Some unwelcome voice in the back of Peter’s head tells him that she fits into Neverland so well for a reason, but he refuses to listen. 

After all, Y/N is only here temporarily. She knows it, too, which just makes Peter’s unsettled surprise grow more intense. She doesn’t try to run or flee her fate in any way. Instead, she asks Peter questions about the magic of Neverland, what it would be like when her heart has been traded in and everything is as it should be. After some initial hesitation, Peter talks. He talks more than he thinks he has to anyone else, and comes away from every conversation feeling a surprising lightness in his chest. 

A couple of days pass after his soulmate arrives on Neverland, and Peter begins to realize that if he wants to get through this at all, he’s going to have to plan the ritual sooner rather than later. Already, something almost like guilt is pricking at the edges of his consciousness, making Peter wonder if this is really something he could do. To tear the still-beating heart out of Y/N’s chest, even with her explicit permission, seems somehow so wrong that even Peter with all his centuries of depravity feels like he’s missing something. 

It will come, though. This will pass. Peter has the Lost Boys depending on him. Peter himself knows nothing about death, that grand adventure that he has yet to experience, and he plans on keeping his demise to the distant future, if it ever does happen at all. He has to kill Y/N, even if it feels like he’s killing himself in turn. 

The hour arrives at last, Peter makes sure of it. He takes Y/N’s hand and they fly to Skull Rock, out of the judging eyes of the other Lost Boys. Those that were so keen on him finding any way to live now seem less sure of Peter Pan’s divine right to never fail. Peter isn’t sure of it either. 

The only one who’s sure of anything is Y/N. She watches him with those same bright eyes as Peter reminds himself of words to spells. He had wondered if her quiet strength would desert her when the moment of her actual death arrived, but she remains just as brave as ever. That marks her as better than Peter, he supposes. 

At last, when he can push it off no longer, Peter turns to her again.

“It’s time,” he murmurs. 

Y/N nods once. “It’s okay.”

How like her, to absolve him of this last guilt. He doesn’t deserve this. Maybe this is why Peter has avoided the topic of soulmates all this time— he wasn’t afraid of a weakness but the knowledge that he would never be good enough for anyone. Especially not a soulmate like Y/N. 

Peter squares his shoulders, reaches for her. “Is there anything you want to say? You know, before–”

He stops himself before the treacherous words come out. Before he kills her. Before he rips her heart out of her chest, ending the life of the one good person in his life, the one person he had been sent to love and instead ended up murdering just so he could have more years of empty life.

Y/N flinches slightly, and Peter realizes that she actually is terrified despite her calm front. “I don’t know,” she whispers, “Maybe that I love you. More than anything. If this is what it’s like to have a soulmate, to feel like this, I’m glad I got it.”

Peter must have reacted strongly, because she holds up a hand to stop Peter’s response. “I know it’s bad timing, but I wanted to say it once. You have to do this, Peter. Not just for you but all of the Lost Boys, everyone you haven’t saved yet. Promise me, won’t you? Promise me you’ll find all the kids who need you. You’ll have all the time in the world to do it. Bring them home.”

“I promise,” Peter says hollowly.

Y/N jerks her head up and down, a trembling acceptance. “Alright, then.” She eyes him cautiously. “Do you think it’ll hurt?”

Yes, he wants to say. “I’ll try to make any pain as little as possible.” He owes her that much.

Y/N flashes him a quick smile that neither of them believe. “Do it.”

Peter stares at her, and before he can stop himself, he leans forward slightly and kisses her. It is a mistake in anyone’s book, but Peter can’t help it. It goes against his better judgment, his limited common sense, but it also gives him a rush from head to toe that he could not explain if he tried.

Y/N’s eyes are shut, which makes it easier. Peter plucks her heart from her chest as easily as if it were a single emerald leaf from a tree. Instantly, Y/N crumples to the ground. Peter looks at her body in a tangle of limbs on the floor of the cave, and he knows. He can’t do this. It is the only thing that will save his life, and it is too great a price to pay.

Within a second, Peter puts Y/N’s heart back in her chest. She still doesn’t stir, and Peter finds himself swept away on a tide of fear, utterly wracked with the horror that maybe he was too late, that his realization took just too long to come about. He kisses her again in the hopes that it might do something, anything. He’s heard that soulmates are supposed to have a special kind of magic in them; if the stories were true, if there is anything left to Y/N and Peter, let it go all to her. Let her wake up. Please.

Y/N lets out a shuddering gasp and sits up. Peter’s breath leaves him in a rush and he clutches her to him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as if she’s giving him strength instead of the other way around.

“You’re alright,” he says weakly. It’s as much to reassure him as her.

Y/N shakes her head against his chest. “Didn’t it work? It should have worked, Peter.”

Peter pulls away briefly, unwillingly, so he can look at her again. He doesn’t know how much time he has left now, but he’d gladly spend the rest of them just watching the sun set in her eyes. “I couldn’t do it. I can’t kill you, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes widen. “No. No, you had to do this. You’re going to die.”

He lifts a shoulder. “I’ve lived a long time. You deserve your shot at life, just like me.”

Y/N opens her mouth to argue against this, and then she falls silent. Peter furrows his brow, confused at her sudden hesitation, and then he realizes that the entire room seems to be glowing. He turns around to see what Y/N’s looking at, and then he sees it and loses the ability to function.

The hourglass is glowing. As Peter watches, all of the grains that had been steadily collecting at the bottom fly up to the top, and this time, they stay there. Even after Peter waits, they refuse to fall. For some reason, he is no longer capable of dying, at least not through the steady progress of time that had once marked his centuries.

It must be the soulmate thing. It’s the only thing Peter can think of, that something must have come of the bond between him and Y/N. It’s funny, isn’t it, that Peter has spent all of this time running from the mere mention of a soulmate and now she’s the one to save his life?

He faces her once more, and this time, he lets himself smile back at her. “I think we’re alright.”

She laughs. Peter thinks he could listen to the sound on repeat for days at a time. “I think we’re more than alright, actually.”

For once, Peter does not have any cause to fear. He has his life, but more than that, he has his love. Love is not something to shun or hide, it makes him strong. He holds out a hand for Y/N and helps her up. They have a new life to lead, hundreds of thousands of lifetimes until time itself ceases to function. Peter thinks it’s just about enough time to get started.

requested by @hinayugi, i hope you enjoy!

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie, @w1shes43, @lost-ender

[tetitous]

I wrote a lot, and not everything at the same time, but like brain got too full of Wakfu so yeah, thoughts time. I tried organizing it chonologically.

I wonder if Ruel will end up going back to Arpagone eventually, to me it seems like he decided he was done with her for good. That seems crazy but at the same time I'm pretty sure she did the most toxic thing you can do to an Enutrof. I mean, they haven't been together for a long time, I kind of wish they did talk to each other, set the records straight and left it there, but I'm okay with what happened too. Also good for Arapgone on finding something that makes her feel worthwhile by helping others.

Ruel really said the real treasure was the son we got along the way in the end, and he was so right for that.

Yugo getting the shit kicked out of him because Iops seem to have face blindness is some real comedy, the lightness in the whole scene really helped me feel that Yugo was still very much him. And given how heavy anything about the antagonists is that felt warranted, that made me feel very good. He's very chill though. Retrospectively I think it confirms what a lot of people like me may have been thinking, that Yugo was generally very tense due to body dysmorphia on top of everything else. Good for him.

I'm going to be real, Pin calling for Flopin got me so hard. I said "oh no" out loud.

Eva went full big sister mode upon seeing Yugo ;-;. I always loved their bond, it's at the center of one of, if not the best solo episode of the whole show, s2 ep 16, so the fact that it never weakens has me in a chokehold. I see the little gestures and I think "oh, they're family", with them it's all in the little gestures.

Yugo recieveing a big iop group hug and going :> was so cute. Kind of surprised Goultard also was part of it but Yugo deserves all the hugs so I absolutely am taking it.

Yugo telling Eliatrope to do something or fuck off and being the only one to manage to get her to do something has to be one of the biggest nat 20 on persuasion of all time. She's coming back to deliver the kids once things are safe though, right? And without the eye thingies right? Right?

No more Brakmar? Damn, that feels weird.

King Osamodas can take my fists, the way he just refuses to listen to Amalia and is barely willing to do the same to Armand given the nature of the invasion is really irritating.

The joy of Ad upon seeing Yugo still alive ;v;

Little interesting parallel of Yugo and Eliatrope both using the same force field technique. Not sure if it means anything, but I know it felt relevant to me.

Amalia going "are we about to kiss rn" and Yugo going "nah babe there's a war that'll leave a bad taste. Promise I'm hyping up my game for later though" was perfect. I got scared that they would kiss at that moment because it didn't feel right, but at the same time you cannot tell me they wouldn't want to soo damn bad.

Ad and Armand's eyes turning purple upon using the Eliasphere, huh...

Oh so Dathura is still there and places herself as a last defense for the Tree of Life, interesting but like, she just disappeared in the meantime? Well it's not her story I guess we didn't need to know, but still.

Joris asking Yugo if he knows what he's doing. Joris, he knows about as much as usual, he's just doing his best but thanks for making sure.

The way Eva and Tristepin react to their family being put in danger is interesting to me. Pinpin will jump to their rescue, but he's the one moving, that makes sense to him. Eva is, and has always been, the type to stay in place at the face of danger, whether out of fear or stubborness, so she asks for Pinpin to be the one to move away from the danger, but she won't move. Their dynamic is precious.

I'm curious about Pinpin's hair... burning? What's going on there?

Armand's sacrifice was powerful, he wasn’t a great prince, but he was an amazing King.

Joris! Joris! Joris! Joris! Imma hype that little man. Him and Yugo making the Team Blue Shorties (well, not so much anymore) was great. Team Demigods was also pretty damn cool.

Aurora is building a very bad rep for the Osamodas Kingdom by flying away, but I undertand the pain she must have felt at the moment. Her father still was treating their countries' alliance as something purely strategic, but she loved him. To her that meant something, and Amalia's simple movement of rejection while under intense distress and grief was enough for her to decide to listen to her father and not to fight by everyone's side.

Actually Eva IS very much the one to get people to move. She gets Amalia back up too.

Yugo turning Oropo's words against Toross is interesting. Wonder if it has any weird implications for the future. Maybe not though, maybe Yugo has been warned enough, he's not the type to enjoy the feeling that comes with being extremely powerful too much after all. The Eliacube freaked him out, the 6 Dofus made him scared the whole time and the consequences sucked, and the Eliasphere can litteraly cause his death. I think if anyone can hold that much power, that would be him (or Joris, Joris looks like he can be trusted with pretty much anything)

Big nope on Toross for trying to make Nora his bride. Nopenopenopenopenope go away. I'm surprised Yugo managed to keep a straight face, because I think I would have just gone for the throat.

Also imagine being a walking talking pan flag and people still assume you're straight.

There are definetly implications that Toross is the one being responsible for the disappearance of the gods. If he can tell the difference between the strengh of a god and that of a demi-god, that means he fought both, and won.

Nora going from forcing herself to be distrustful of Yugo to believing him fully did warm my heart. The short time they spent together doesn't mean they aren’t family.

What do you mean Pinpin never told Eva he loved her??? What??? Really?!?!

Efrim's pain and Nora's love are such a beautiful contrast I feel so much for them I'm not sure I have the words for it.

Flopin is developing his hearing, glad that in a way he didn't miss the wedding.

Btw totally unrelated but Yugo carrying Goultard bridal style during the final fight was NOT on my bingo list.

In the end, Toross' pain and loneliness are eternal, and there litteraly no saving him from his own personal hell. In a lot of ways his story is similar to Qilby's, but the one thing that separates them is the choice: Qilby could still choose to stop hurting his own in service of himself, Toross condemned everyone, including himself, and he can do nothing about it anymore.

Are Nora and Efrim stuck wherever they are together for all of eternity or are their Wakfu going back to their Dofus?

Omg. A wedding. My dude it all happened too fast, the worldwide political chaos that's going to ensue, I'm here for it.

I feel like they did originally want to show us the transition from the Era of Wakfu to Waven but they ended up focusing more on the characters, and that's a very good thing, that allows for Yugo to have a truly, undeniable win thanks not just to being overpowered, due to the main antagonist somehow being worse, but also thanks to the power of friendship and plus if affinity.

Overall those last 3 episodes I was hyped the whole way, and it's crazy because I don't think I felt a feeling that strong so regularly for an entire hour. I write that part about an hour after having watched everything and I still haven't come down, but now I'm having a bit of a feeling like I'm about to cry in the back. That means season 4 of Wakfu was even more amazing than everything I hoped for, because when I'm hoped for something there typically always is that empty feeling. Not here. I'm very, very happy.

The ending really feels like there's more, so I'm happy to know that there will be a manga.

[thyluvcupix]

Sakuatsu fic recs!

im very picky on what i label to be a 'good fic' most of the ones are amazing but only a few will get bookmarkerd by me and here they are! My ao3 acc that has many more book marks mostly nsfw i diddnt put here

1

A liar's truth 49k words

okay this one is just breathtaking? if you havent read this pls do i cried sm😭

summary:

In which Sakusa Kiyoomi is raised to believe that gay people go to hell but then takes one look at Miya Atsumu and thinks, then why the hell did God make them so fucking hot?

2

I'll see you in court, motherfucker 2k words

its short and funny def worth a read if you wanna giggle

Summary:

“You’re still a fraud. You’re—you’re a scammer, is what you are. I don’t know how you convinced the hospital administration that you’re my husband, or that we even have a relationship, but I have—” Fuck, what’s the word? “Lawyers,” Kiyoomi says triumphantly, “I have lawyers, and if you’re trying to con me for some ulterior motive, I’ll have you know—” “Oh my god, Omi,” Miya says, sounding equal parts exasperated and horribly fond. “How can you be so cute?”

A pleasant side effect of being down one vestigial organ is forgetting the existence of your hot Olympic athlete husband

3

The 28 post cards you left me 8k words

Honestly, if i ever break up with someone this is exactly what i want from them? Like omg?? pls send me post cards, Super cute

Summary:

Atsumu takes texting your ex to a new level by sending Sakusa postcards in Animal Crossing instead.

4

The art of the thrist trap 4k words

naughty naughty, but other than that this fic is so funny? like ask ur brother how to rizz someone up

Summary:

“Samu, I’ve got a big problem.”

“Here we fuckin’ go. What is it this time?”

Atsumu needs to think strategically about how he’s going to phrase this. One wrong word and Osamu will hang up on him and Atsumu will be forced to wade through the hell of his own mind by himself.

“I jerked off to one of my teammates.”

Osamu hangs up.

5

Problem 5k words

super cute sleepy omi is something else

Summary:

Atsumu has a problem— somehow, he finds every version of Sakusa Kiyoomi adorable.

In which Atsumu realizes that Sakusa Kiyoomi gets very quiet and very adorable when he's tired. Things simply go downhill from there.

6

Take me where the music aint to loud 2k words

Protetive sakusa>>

Summary:

Winning against the Adlers must have meant something of a great deal to Sakusa, as usually he wouldn’t even consider going out with the rest of his team after the game.

Yet, here he is, in a somewhat crowded club, wearing a black button up shirt rolled up around his wrists and sweating a little under the bright lights.

Atsumu thinks he looks beautiful.

He wanders over to where Sakusa is standing with Meian, hoping that tonight, with a little bit of influence from alcohol, he might be able to get more conversation out of him than he can usually get outside of practice.

But of course, Atsumu can’t have anything good, ever. Because, blocking the way is his ex-boyfriend.

--

or; atsumu runs into his ex in the club, and sakusa has to rescue him

7

ROAD RAGE 2k words

This is funny on so many levels poor atsumu he fears for his life

Summary:

For a man who preaches at any given opportunity about the importance of good self-care practices, Sakusa certainly displays an astounding lack of self-preservation when behind the wheel.

Sakusa Kiyoomi has a driver’s license. Sakusa Kiyoomi cannot drive.

The two are not mutually exclusive.

8

The ascent to love (or descent) 3k words

Im always a sucker for hurt/comfort and this fic gives me that, its also funny as well so its a win-win type thing

Summary:

Stuck in an elevator with his boyfriend after a fight, Sakusa Kiyoomi couldn't think of anything worse. Working through their issues?  Maybe he could think of one thing.

9

Take me home 10k words

i just cannont stress how good this is, like its soul healing on so may levels gosh

Summary:

Turns out, Miya Atsumu never did a good thing in his life – his love was one-sided. And so, he was running away, hoping to meet some friendly people, take a bunch of pretty pictures and get over Kita Shinsuke.

In which Miya Atsumu is an exchange student in Italy, and Sakusa Kiyoomi is the only one knowing Japanese, forced to take care of the new student.

10

Hope is the thing with feathers 10k words

Two dummies taking care of some birds is honestly to good

Summary:

Kiyoomi wakes to Miya banging on his door, yelling words that put the fear of god in him.

“Omi-kun, get out here, we’re gonna be fathers.”

11

In the stars 1k words

In all honesty it made me think of the other side of love i never thought about

Summary:

Miya Atsumu is a romantic. He always had been. He believes in soulmates and destiny and true love in the stars. Sakusa Kiyoomi believes none of that.

My ao3↵

[insomniphic]

💕VALENTINES DAY IS A WEEK AWAY!💕

So guess what?! :D

I’ll be posting daily One-Shots of Narry in very Valentine scenarios for 7 days!

None of these are canon! They’re just cool “what if’s” since Narry is probably doomed to be forever lonely 😔.

Anyways~

DAY 1: Crowded Places

Narry participated in a party once; in our current timeline he might have already joined more than four, perhaps none, but ONE was enough to realize his hatred towards crowded places, of every kind. “Hatred”? No. Not really. Maybe it’s discomfort. Maybe fear.

The music is the latest hit of this year, so was the next, and the following. The taste was generic — made to entertain most of the crowd because of how trendy it is — so it was no surprise that everyone was still moving their bodies to a rhythm that matched their hearts more than the beat. Narry wished there was more variety so he could test his memory… Perhaps he could just list out the pitch, the notes, maybe the specific riffs to the bass that carried the harmony.

An arm brushes against his. A sandal comes close to stepping on his black loafers. Hair slashes across his back. An empty plastic cup tips and touches against his chest.

He really needs to stop closing his eyes, these sensations were becoming more intense without his vision and it was making him shudder when he isn’t even feeling cold.

While pursing his thin lips, the brunette tilts his head down and cracks both of his eyes open, looking straight at his feet. There’s about a two step radius that he could shuffle around in. (Disregarding the shoulders that nudged past that small border.) He made sure to straighten his body like a rod, taking less space to give himself, and others, more room.

It’s alright, Narry, just listen to the music. The music is loud, this room is big. It’s alright, Narry, just listen to the echo of the music. If the music echoes, then the room is spacious; it’s big.

“Oh my goood, have you heard what Juliet just did to her new boyfrieend?~” A random girl slurred out, her eyes hazy as she pressed herself closer to her other female companion, trying to be more audible in the crowd.

Narry blinks, his brows furrowing. Music, Narry, music. “You know how to dance, huh?” A man with a buzz-cut hair chuckled as he swayed along with a some blonde woman. The duo was too close for his liking; it’s almost as if those words were directed to him.

“Hahaha! Yeaaah!” The other squeaked, her face flushed and hair a mess from all the grooving, “I was in the dance team when I was in high school!” She grinned suddenly throwing her hands up, ultimately hitting against Narry’s arm without her knowledge.

Narry writhed as he began to inch away from them. He steps out of the center of his small safe space, and it led him into bumping against another stranger. And like a game of Pong, he bumped into another as he apologized. Where’s the music? Narry’s eyes whirled around, looking for safety. Why can’t I hear it?! Where is it?!

…Screw the music. Screw the size of the room. It’s too cramped here— WHY is he here?

“Narry!” The man jumped — not out of fear, but more in relief.

Music. He’s hearing the music.

“Narry! Oh god, what are you doing here?!” Narry’s lover pushed through the wall of people, concern driven all over their face. Before Narry could even reply, they were already taking action. “Common, let’s get you out of here!” They yelled over the crowd.

The yellow eyed man kept himself close behind them. He’s usually much more… organized than this. Thankfully enough, he felt all of the tension release as he stumbled slightly on random rubbish that’s been tossed on the hard tiles of the club. He’s usually much more autonomous than this. When finally reached the door — he forgot there was one (he’s usually a lot more aware than this) — he pries his eyes away from the textured ground and then up at the moon, the stars, his lover. Suddenly, his head was clear.

“Gosh…” Narry groaned, lowering his head into his hands, “I’m usually a lot more… normal than this.” He shuddered, his shoulders sinking slightly.

“Narry, you are being normal.” His hands are stuffy. Music. Listen for the music. “You’re just overstimulated, alright?” he looks up from his hands. He hears the echo of their voice. It’s spacious; the world is big. “Don’t bash yourself for that.” They smiled, clearly hazy from the fun he probably just pulled them away from, but they seemed clear in the head enough to mean what they’re saying.

Once he nodded, the other sighed, running a hand through their hair as they looked down the empty sidewalk and streets before glancing back. “Why are you here, Narry? I thought you said you’ll just stay at home for tonight,” they frowned slightly with concern.

Why? Why… Narry was quiet for a moment, the most knowledgeable being in the world seemingly forgotten. “Oh— uh…” his hands naturally ran down to touch his pocket, feeling the contour of his cellular device. Right. “I wanted to pick you up,” he mumbled, “You texted me a while ago, saying that your friends left earlier while you guys were at the pub, and I didn’t want you to go back with an Uber — and by yourself. I came — brought the car — and thought I could find you easily if I go inside myself instead of waiting. And—“ he paused, “I got stuck.”

His lover chuckled, before they reached down and took his gloved hands into theirs. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Narry… thank you.” They gave him a closed eyed smile, and Narry couldn’t help but reciprocate, albeit a bit shy because of the earlier predicament.

“Are you good for a hug?” They widened their arms for him, and Narry paused.

Of course he couldn’t say “no”. And with a small hum of encouragement, he bent himself down and enveloped themselves into each other’s warmth.

The hug was tight; it gave him no space to move, and the entirety of the hug were just sensations he wouldn’t usually agree to. And yet… he didn’t mind it.

Narry has a fear towards crowded places, but his only exception only ever seemed to be their comfort.

===

Next—>

[cyberdragoninfinity]

I'd love to know what the other Barians are up to in the college AU!

YESSS like i said when i was talkin about Vector, I rly wanna properly draw all these guys sometime this year, theyve been bumping around my brain for Months now. some tidbits about the other guys:

Shark/Nasch: MISTAH TRANS MASC HE/THEY OF ALL TIME. Has a really dense Carrd covered in sea predator gifs and dA stamps. I thiiink I assigned him Pursuing a Marine Biology degree, naturally--he spends a lot of time at the aquarium wishing he worked there (he works at a country club currently. he drives golf carts to go pick up errant golf balls. his little nametag says 'Reginald'.) Does really well in his classes but is becoming. a Little Bit Burned Out trying to deal with them And work And whatever bullshit his current and ex-roommates are entangling him in. Vector stole his Ikea blahaj plush and tied it to a ceiling fan. Frequents Not-Lawrence State University's esteemed Smogon Club (usually because Yuma begs and begs for him to come,) and runs a nasty Walking Wake led Monotype team.

Rio: I NEED TO DECIDE ON HER MAJOR WAHHH Atmospheric Science would be kind of insane... invested interest in meteorology and winter events. I know she's dabbled in a bunch of campus sports and ice skates at a very skilled level, probably is banking on maybe doing that professionally if she can qualify. She's also buddies with Alexis! :3 Works at a bougie gelato place not far from the country club Shark works at so sometimes she will come bother him on her break. Has a modest interest in birding and sometimes meets up with the town Birding Group. All in all just likes being active and stylish and is closing in on a date with Miss Anna Kaboom~ lord dont get me started on butchfemme annario i aint got no brakes

Girag and Alito: THE BESTIES. THE ROOMIES OF ALL TIME. They actually live in the same apartment complex as Primo and Claus so they hang out and shoot the shit sometimes. Alito I feel is majoring in something like English, he's not super attached to it, what he really is banking on is a boxing career (whether or not that pans out for him remains to be seen.) He goes and spars at a local gym frequently! Girag is a history major with a focus on feudal Japan and he's also a furry. The boys' r/malelivingspaces ass apartment is a haven for the other Emperors if they dont want to be in the Nightmare House for a hot minute. Don't mind the giant knockoff red panda squishmallow taking up half their couch. Also Ponta is still there he's still a little spirit guy that Girag is nebulously aware of but Alito isn't.

Mizar: OH MIZAR..... one of my favorite zexals in the College AUverse tbh. my failwoman. Tentatively out transfem overdramatic fake blond trying out she/they pronouns for the first time. Has a big expensive gaming desktop that lights up (it looks vaguely like Tachyon Dragon lol) and uses it primarily to get into heated furry drama online and write extensive papers and lab reports for her Physics degree, usually while under some degree of white knuckle meltdown stress. She and Dumon were dating for a while but broke up and truth be told Mizar's still got a couple hangups about it. Gets into a LONG, STUPID beef with Kite over their fursona designs "being too similar" that culminates in them having a brawl on the roof of a hotel mid furry-convention. Yes they were both in fursuits. No you can't tell anyone you saw Kite in a fursuit keep you voice down shh!!!!!!! They end up having some kind of t4t qpr-ish situationship i think. not avoiding the mizakai allegations i fear HDFHSFGF

Dumon: WHO UP STUDYING THEY MEDIEVAL TEXTS. god. I love college AU Dumon. little library dyke. dweeb he/him butch kind of sort of dating clark's Paula From Earthbound and they are having In Depth discussions about a podcast they just listened to. Medieval lit major who knows more about knights than you ever will in your entire life. He was born in Utah. Organizes the finances of the Barian Rental House and takes it all dead seriously and Vector still owes like three months of back rent and he kind of wants to strangle him over it. Type of guy who spends all day at the campus coffee shop nursing the same matcha latte for five hours. Mizar is his best friend and they still hang out post-break up and they're both just kind of constantly putting up with Vector's bullshit. i mean all the Barians are but STILL.

Shark, Rio, Dumon, and Vector also all have the distinction of having known each other when they were kids, before they all moved off on their separate ways (until reconnecting in college) As you can imagine, Vector and Shark's playground wars would get. Violent. 🥴 Dumon has had a bit of a crush on Shark since they met but has absolutely never disclosed this. Because I think it is funny.

The funniest detail about them as a whole in college AU to me is theyre all transfer students from NLSU's sister-campus in Barian, Indiana. WOE! Midwestern be upon ye! And also the previously mentioned nightmare queer housing situation they live in under Don Thousand The Dogshit Landlord (or, well, at this point it's just Mizar, Dumon, and the Kastle twins living there. The situation has improved Somewhat after Vector got kicked out HHDFDF he still loves fucking with all of them though in true 🥕 fashion)

[darkdisrepair]

cr3e39: why imogen and laudna didn't need a one on one

this is going to be less organized but i've been thinking about imodna, and seeing a lot of people be disappointed in how little they've talked

here's a breakdown of why that might be the case, and also why i don't necessarily think it's a bad thing...

they've both been through a lot, and if one thing is certain, it's that bell's hells all have very different trauma processing methods and perspectives in general (as shown by laudna and imogen and the gnarl rock situation).

and i think, while i love great rp moments and did really want laura and marisha to act their guts out to each other, i don't think either imogen or laudna are the type of person to really want to talk things out like that?

that's more fcg's deal. and it's also clear that laudna's coping mechanisms with trauma are quiet, and reflective, and stoic, as shown by her moments of stillness with the sun tree in whitestone.

her vocal-ness with the rock was about imogen and that's why it was so loud. but with herself, laudna has always been quiet. she's always tried to put on her best face, and this is no different.

and imogen is also dealing with a lot of shit. she clearly blames herself for eshteross's death, and she's also dealing with being terrified of otohan, and her powers, and her dreams, and thinking about whether or not she should message her mother.

to be honest, i don't think she's equipped to help laudna process everything other than being there for her. i think it would be counterproductive to both of them, actually, to lean on each other because one of them would feel the need to shoulder the other's burdens and not express their own.

in this quiet, i think it's a great time for them to take in each other's presence, and reacclimate. i think there's a lot of grief and guilt surrounding how they both look at each other, and that's not an easy wound to heal.

jumping right back in would be an overload for both of them. i think it's beautiful how even without big conversations that they check on each other- imogen's how are you feeling, and marisha breathing "imogen" when the flare started, before they sorted out that laudna wasn't awake-

they still clearly care a lot about each other. but i think they're also being smart (and a little afraid of hurting the other, but that's another problem) about not overwhelming each other.

--

now, on the romance front- i've read a lot of fanfictions about imogen confessing in the immediate aftermaths of these recent episodes and while i do eat that shit up, and love every single writer who does write that, something makes me think they're not ready.

neither of them.

i don't think imogen is ready, because she is carrying a lot of responsibility, and working with a lot of unknowns about herself. i think she's scared of who she is becoming, and how she's impacting the lives around her.

i think she's terribly guilty, and i think she has a lot of self-loathing. it's interesting- the more imogen's powers grow, i think the less she trusts herself.

she's lost a lot of her sense of self, because she's pushed around so much by the circumstances of the world- and that does not make a good romantic partner-

if they were to get together now, i think subconsciously, imogen would be treating laudna as a way to fear herself less, to hate herself less, to tell her who she is.

and that's not healthy.

on the flip side- i don't think laudna is in a romantic headspace at all. she's said as much about yu- which to me suggests she's on the ace spectrum, at least- and she's just died.

and she also has a lot of guilt about all the time and effort the team put into getting her back- and so i don't think her perspective on a relationship with imogen would be right, either- i think she would feel like she was taking up too much of imogen's bandwith.

"you have bigger things to worry about than me" is something i can imagine laudna thinking, on that front, even if imogen did confess.

laudna seems to not really see herself as her own person, yet. she sees herself as a factor in everyone else's lives, but i don't think she's really lived for herself yet.

where imogen has so much magical power that she's lost her sense of self, laudna doesn't have enough empowerment mentally.

if either of them confessed, i think it would be for the wrong reasons- desperation, time pressure- and i don't think, if they got together now, that they would last until the end of the campaign.

so- do i always watch FOR marisha and laura moments? maybe. but i also think the way things are unfolding make for a healthier dynamic, in the long run.

[fa1rytunes]

home, noun: someone's or something's place of origin, or the place where a person feels they belong.

Diluc came back from his three years of wandering, and he did not tell Jean.

pairing: diluc/jean

rating: explicit

> NO MINORS ALLOWED, NOTSFW CONTENT

wordcount: 6.5k

tags: modern au, bar owner diluc x policewoman jean, childhood friends jean and diluc, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, soft smut, emotional smut

ao3 link: here

notes: written for Ceryna

Diluc closes his eyes and counts to three.

When he looks again, she’s still sitting there, all the way to the back of the dimly lit club. She’s still obstinately there, neither ghost nor illusion. She has her pale blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, blazer and pants combo with a light-coloured blouse underneath, unchanged from when he last saw her. A mojito is right in front of her, barely touched.

She hasn’t seen him. And even if she had, it wouldn’t matter, because the fact of the matter is, she hasn’t acknowledged him. He’s not sure he wants her to.

She doesn’t know he’s back in town, or so he thinks. It’s better if she doesn’t know—it would be a distraction she doesn’t need, not now that she’s the Acting Commissioner of the Favonius Metropolitan Police. That’s what Diluc would rather tell himself. It’s easier than to admit he fears something broke between them on the day he left, three years ago.

She’s not here for him, in any case. She stares at her phone’s screen while pointedly ignoring Lisa’s babbling at her side.

Why should he care that she hasn’t looked his way yet? Why should he?

The music is too loud, and yet something louder than the bass thrums inside of him.

☆ — ☆ — ☆

Lisa pleaded for Jean to follow her to a new bar in town. Jean followed.

It’s not that there was any event truly worth celebrating. Today’s operation merely dug a dent in the organization they’ve been trying to take down, the Fatui crime family. But hey, a dent is better than a setback, and if it can help Lisa and the team’s morale… Jean knows she should be here with her team, and yet, she also knows that there’s a press conference tomorrow at the police station to officially announce the arrest of the Eleventh Harbinger, in a joint operation with the Liyue Qixing. Her mind wanders around in circles as she thinks about that press conference, and about her speech, more than anything else.

“Oh, come on, Jean, darling, you need to let loose a bit!” Lisa exclaims as she slides a mojito on a coaster towards her.

Jean takes a sip for Lisa, and puts her glass down with no intent of picking it up again. Lisa needs this night out more than Jean does. Lisa can always use another break; and so Jean swallows down her sourness, and tries to pretend she’s not about to delete the third draft of her speech, hurriedly typed in the notes app of her phone, because the noise in this club keeps the words from making sense in her head, nevermind on that pesky page.

This shouldn’t be her job, this is not the part she’s good at. This is the part Varka is good at. Pretending everything is going great. Padding mediocre results with piles of euphemisms the press gobbles right up, and making them sound believable for the public, too; emphasizing their play into the big catch just enough so that the population has renewed faith in their police force, but not so much that the Liyue Qixing complain afterwards.

Jean sighs and shoves her phone into the hidden inner pocket of her blazer.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she half-yells at Lisa.

Lisa barely hears her, she’s way too busy chatting up the mint-haired forensics technician she’s been flirting with over the last few weeks.

Jean spots the toilet sign all the way to the back of the room, near the bar. Great.

There are too many bodies between here and there. While Jean painstakingly makes her way through the crowd, the music seems to get louder, and more obnoxious with each step.

There are several shelves lined up behind the counter, with colorful and less colorful bottles of alcohol lined up on them.

And there is also a man with stark red hair tied up in a ponytail.

Jean stops a dozen feet before the counter.

“You’re back?” she asks, voice a punched-out whisper, impossible to hear over the music.

She stays there like a deer in the headlights. Diluc was supposed to be miles and miles away, somewhere in Snezhnaya, or perhaps in Natlan or Sumeru. How is he back? How did she not know?

“Jean?” Diluc asks, loud enough to be heard over the music.

His voice jolts her awake. She takes a few steps forward.

“H-hi, I didn’t know you were back,” she exclaims. Music beats follow, and then she says, “Since when?”

“A few months ago,” he replies. “I just bought this bar.” His voice sounds hollow, almost robotic, practiced. It’s not the first time he answers this question.

“Ah, I see, I’m glad for you.” She gets closer to the bar, but doesn’t hop onto one of the free stools.

“I heard you’ve been made Commander. You have my congratulations.”

“Acting Commander,” Jean corrects, avoiding Diluc’s gaze. “Varka went undercover.”

“The Commissioner, going undercover? That is… unexpected.”

“He insisted on it.” Jean’s eyes bounce around the counter and the bar shelves behind it, landing anywhere but on Diluc’s gaze. “Look, I’m sorry but I don’t really have time to catch up, but text me and we’ll go grab a coffee, alright?”

Jean shuffles on her feet, rubbing her elbows. She doesn’t intend on replying to Diluc’s text, if there’s one. He probably doesn’t even intend on texting her; if he intended to, he would’ve done it weeks ago. Jean can easily guess why he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not after what the police did to him, did to his dad after his death at the hands of the Fatui. He must truly detest her, now that she represents the organization he hates the most after his father’s murderers.

She turns back before hearing his answer. Maybe he yells ‘okay’, maybe he yells something else; in any case, the music swallows his words, and soon Jean is back at the table where Lisa is no more, having abandoned it in favor of the dance floor. She picks up her coat and waves goodbye to Lisa from a distance, but doesn’t look to make sure she’s been acknowledged. Lisa will understand; Jean had only accepted to follow her to the club halfheartedly.

The outside of the club is cold and wet and dripping. The air eats through the flimsy layer of Jean’s coat, and bites her skin with shivers and goosebumps. She takes out her phone to call a cab, regretting that she left her car at the headquarters. While it rings, she walks off to the side of the building, away from a group of noisy youngsters having a smoke break. On the other side of the phone line, the answering machine sounds as lifeless as can be. After selecting the right option from the menu, she’s answered by an older woman’s voice.

“Yes, hi, I’d like a cab for…” Jean thinks for a second too long as she tries to remember the name of the club, “Angel’s Share.”

“The one on the corner of Main Street and Kreuzlied Avenue?”

Jean looks out for a second to confirm, and replies, “Yes, that’s the one.”

“Well I don’t think I have anyone in the area right now, it might be a while.”

Jean barely has time to mumble, “Okay, no problem, have a good night,” that the operator is already hanging up.

She sighs heavily, leaning back against the cold brick wall. Holding her arms crossed over her chest, she tries to drown her thoughts into the sound of car tires on the wet pavement, and the distant guffaws of the group of friends at the entrance of the club.

For a long while, she’s left alone with ghosts from three years ago clouding her mind, and thoughts about a particular someone at the center of it all.

And many regrets.

☆ — ☆ — ☆

She came and went, staying just outside of reach.

A conversation so cold. And yet he remembers how warm she always was. Smiles like rays of sunshine, always radiant; just the right words to comfort him when blues struck.

All of this faded away like the stars when daybreak nears.

As Diluc wipes his glasses clean, he stares at where she was moments before. Her silhouette imprinted on his retina, already fading with each blink.

He pays little mind to Charles behind him, moving to and fro to serve the customers.

“Are you okay, boss?” the man asks over the music.

“Yes,” Diluc replies without even hearing the question.

(In his mind’s eye, he sees her with a book in hand, sitting on a cushion with her knees to her chest, in his family home’s attic, cornflower blue eyes devouring the lines on page after page.)

Text me and we’ll go grab a coffee, she said.

But that’s not what Diluc wants.

(He also remembers her brow covered in sweat, her punches still precise, but her arms visibly weighed down by the effort. Even with her bangs sticking to her forehead after a tough session of training, she was still pretty.)

Her eyes avoided his like a magnet with the wrong polarity. The invitation was dropped perfunctorily, an exit door to an increasingly awkward exchange of platitudes and known facts.

(He remembers that one time he almost invited her to the school dance, and not even Kaeya could keep him from ripping his ridiculous invitation letter to shreds after she was invited by someone else.)

(He remembers how beautiful she was on that day. A lone star shining in the middle of the room, making everything else vanish from his sight. She twirled in her diaphanous light blue dress, and he fell. He fell back then, and he’s still falling now.)

What Diluc wants is to get back to a point in time where everything was right side up, and he still knew how to manage his heart. Winding back time is impossible—hence why he tried to work through his grief overseas, instead of letting it consume him until he set everything and everyone close to him up in flames at the same time.

It worked, sort of. Time passed. People moved on. She moved on.

Diluc puts down his glass and lets his gaze lose itself in the crowd.

The weight in the pit of his stomach feels like it’s making him sink into the ground.

Diluc glances at Charles.

“If I leave, will you be fine for the night?” he asks.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, boss,” Charles replies.

Diluc bites his lip, holding back a sigh.

Better go home than to get lost into the murky waters of his own thoughts here, he thinks.

“Okay, Charles, see you tomorrow,” he says, throwing his towel on a drying rack and heading through the door behind the bar.

He grabs his leather jacket and an umbrella, and walks through the back exit.

Outside are cold, bright streetlights, and dampness that seeps through one’s skin. Diluc looks left and right before crossing the street to find his parked car.

Actually, he stops at ‘left’. And then hesitates.

“Hi,” he finally says.

Jean has that look again in her eyes. A look Diluc never wanted to see. She takes a second too long before replying, “Hi, I… I’m waiting for a cab.”

Leaning against the brick wall, she hugs herself tightly to guard her body against the cold.

“I can give you a lift if you want,” Diluc says.

“No, it’s fine, I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Jean replies with a stiff smile.

“Up to you.” He shrugs and leans next to her.

“Were you not leaving?” Jean asks, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“I’ll hold you company. You’re here, and so am I.”

“I see…” Silence. A car passes by. “How was your trip?” she asks.

“Lonely.” More silence. Another car. “There were people everywhere, but no one to talk to.”

The silence is thick and gooey. It drips in sparse, heavy drops in the space between their words.

Then, a light pitter-patter rises as rain starts up again. Diluc opens his umbrella and scoots closer, offering it up to Jean with an interrogative look. She replies by scooting closer in kind, which Diluc greets by averting her gaze, fighting the sensation of heat puffing up in his chest.

“Did you see some nice landscapes on your journey?” she asks.

A perch.

“Yeah, I hiked a lot.”

“You did? I thought you much preferred horseback riding,” Jean says, quirking up an eyebrow.

“It’s different,” he replies with a shrug. “What about you? How is it to be Acting Commissioner?”

She sighs. “Tiring. I barely have a moment to myself. But it’s rewarding.” She replaces a strand of hair behind her ear, and looks at Diluc. “I’ve missed you too, you know,” she confesses. “I thought you wouldn’t really want to see me again after… after your father…”

“It’s okay,” he cuts her off, but still patently looking ahead of himself instead of at her. “I’m over it. I still don’t like the police, and I have no intention of joining the force again. But… You’ll always be special to me, Jean.”

“Then, why didn’t you tell me you were back in town? We could have…” Halfway between a scolding and a protest, Jean stops on her tracks when she realizes this is not what Diluc needs.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Diluc says. It’s a lie. He knows, and she knows, but he lets it stand in as the truth for the time being.

“You wouldn’t have been a bother,” Jean replies.

Her hand slides on his arm holding up the umbrella, giving a gentle squeeze at his wrist.

Their gazes cross. Diluc gulps. He missed that.

He missed the placid blue shade of her eyes, the light crinkle at the corner when she smiles…

He lets out a short sigh, focusing his gaze on the street in front of them again.

“I didn’t know how you…” he starts, but the words stay stuck in his throat.

“I don’t mind if you hate the police, Diluc. As long as you don’t hate me,” Jean says, scooting another step closer.

Diluc frowns lightly, takes in a deep breath, and looks at Jean at his side. Her arm is against his, her shoulder a couple of inches below his. She smiles at him; his breath hitches in his chest.

“I could never hate you,” he replies.

“I suppose you asked Kaeya not to tell me…”

“I wasn’t…” He trails off and sighs. “I wasn’t ready. I owe you an apology for how I left. I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay. I know you were mad, you were not thinking straight. I didn’t take it personal.” Jean gives his wrist another squeeze.

The words he said, screamed at Varka that day will always stay in his memory. Corrupt cowards, he called them, bastards, the lot of you! he screamed at the top of his lungs, red eyes sore and fists balled tight, his heart beating like a thousand drums.

He caught Jean’s silhouette from the corner of his eye, her gaze misted with tears, as he stormed out of Varka’s office. On that day, he went straight home, packed a few sets of clothes and minimal toiletries, and caught the first flight he could find at the Thousand Winds Airport.

He woke up the next morning in Snezhnaya, and didn’t come back to Mondstadt until he wore his grief, anger, and hurt thin along with the soles of his boots.

Until he could close his eyes in the evening with the relative confidence that he wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night, heart thundering in his chest, sweat dripping down his back, after the scene of his father’s death replayed itself once again behind his closed eyelids.

“You’re too conciliatory,” he lets out, the shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I am.”

A taxi car rolls down slowly down the street in front of them with the window down, the driver visibly looking for a patron. Jean only follows it with her eyes, silent at Diluc’s side. The cab finally stops in front of the bar.

“Isn’t this the cab you were waiting for?” Diluc asks.

“Yes,” Jean says. She looks up at him with a smile to melt the snow off the peaks of Dragonspine. She sighs, and then, she continues, “But I have some catching up to do.”

Oh.

Diluc could swear his heart skipped a beat.

He clears his throat, hoping to keep his voice steady as he replies, “Does that mean you’re taking my offer?”

Jean chuckles. “Of course it does, dummy. Where’s your car?”

☆ — ☆ — ☆

Diluc is quite proud of his little red GT86.

He’s much prouder of it now that Jean sits in the passenger side, window cracked open, as the humid early fall has turned almost warm on their skin.

After three whole years…

At some point, he was unsure if he’d come back to Mondstadt at all. He contemplated settling somewhere in Fontaine, opening up a small importation business for alcohol and spirits.

He couldn’t be more glad to have bailed on that plan than he is now.

Streetlights streak Jean’s face, revealing the subtle smile dancing across her lips.

“Do you remember when we were still at the police academy? That one time, when you and Kaeya pranked me right before the last year’s finals,” she asks, voice airy.

Diluc huffs. “Yes, I could not forget your reaction either. I thought you’d impale me with your eyes.”

“I actually thought it was funny…” She chuckles. “I suppose I was too proud to admit it.”

“I have no merit. It was Kaeya’s idea—and besides, I wouldn’t have had the patience to wrap every item in your locker with the wrapping paper if he hadn’t been goading me along.”

Jean laughs more. Diluc holds it back.

“I’m not surprised… He was the truly mischievous one, you were only a bad boy when he was around…” she says.

“Oh, I have my bad sides even when he’s not there… I’m just more private about them than he is.”

“Like what?” There’s an amused twinkle in Jean’s gaze as she side-eyes Diluc.

Diluc clicks his tongue. “You really want to know?”

“Kinda.”

They glide along the highway exit ramp, and then the car stops at the traffic light. Diluc taps the wheel with his fingers, lips pinched thin. He shakes his head, and finally caves in.

“I started smoking,” he admits.

“You, smoking?” Jean exclaims in disbelief. “You, who would lift your nose whenever someone was smoking nearby back in high school?”

Diluc lets out a wry chuckle as he takes a left at the green light. “It reminded me of Dad, while I was out there… I’m already trying to quit, but it’s harder than I imagined.”

He thinks of Kaeya, who picked up the habit right out of middle school, and got many earfuls from their dad because of it. Diluc used to hate it, how the smell of tobacco clung to his clothes whenever he spent too much time in his dad’s office or with Kaeya. Now, the brothers sometimes light up Pall Malls together behind the bar after closing time, and Diluc’s nose has stopped picking up the scent.

Perhaps, even today, Kaeya is still reeling him in. He’s undoubtedly made it harder to quit, in any case.

“I see,” Jean simply says.

“How do you cope with being Acting Commissioner? I was under the impression you much preferred working in Varka’s shadow…”

Jean takes a deep breath before replying. “It’s…complicated. I like being in charge of things, it makes it easier to know what’s actually happening in the precincts. However, when Varka was there, I had more time to go on the field and see the issues with my own eyes. He did most of the paperwork and the public speaking, even if I helped him with it sometimes, which left me much more time to be hands on. I just find it hard to take the pulse of the people when I barely have the time to walk a beat in the neighbourhood… And…I don’t absolutely detest having to take care of the public speaking, but it’s really not my forte. In short…yes, I much preferred working in Varka’s shadow.” She sighs. “But… It is what it is.”

“Have you talked about this to anyone?” Diluc asks, concern forming a pucker between his brows.

“I’ve…mentioned it to Lisa and Kaeya. I’m pretty sure they know,” Jean replies. “If you were still in the force, you’d be the Acting Commissioner, you know that, right?”

Diluc scoffs. “I probably hate public speaking as much as you do… Besides, people love you because you’re great at what you do, you do it with pride and integrity. This is what the city needs in a Commissioner.”

He feels Jean’s warm hand over his elbow, giving a gentle squeeze.

“You’re too kind…” she says, cheeks tickled pink as she tries to hide her embarrassment. “You’d have as much pride and integrity in that role as I do, if it wasn’t for…you know…”

“It’s difficult to have faith and pride in an organization that allowed someone with as little of it as Eroch to rise through the ranks,” Diluc replies, his glacial tone betraying how much resentment he still harbours towards the man.

A bitter smile paints itself on Jean’s lips, and she gives another squeeze to his elbow. “I promise you, I’ll do my best to make sure it never happens again,” she says.

Another traffic light turns red, and Diluc looks at Jean, an intensity she has seldom seen in his eyes permeating his ruby gaze.

“I don’t want you to bear the responsibility of other people’s mistakes,” he says. “You can do your best as Acting Commissioner, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything for Varka’s laissez-faire attitude and lack of diligence. You had nothing to do—”

“Diluc, it’s fine,” Jean cuts off. “I’m… I suppose I am promising you this because of what you went through, but I am promising it because… I don’t think anyone else should go through that.” She sighs.

The light turns green, Diluc takes a right into a residential street with sparsely placed streetlights. He keeps his eyes peeled for the number of Jean’s small townhouse.

He still remembers helping her move in, along with Kaeya, Lisa, and her mom. Barbara came, too, but she was there more moral support than practical help. The smile Jean had on her face on that day, as she waved them goodbye, is still vividly imprinted in Diluc’s memory. It didn’t take her long at all to make the seemingly impersonal, anonymous house look like it was always meant to be her home.

The downside to that townhouse is that it’s pretty much identical to all the houses in this street, and Diluc isn’t quite sure if the number is 464 or 484. It could even be something completely different. However, as the numbers increase in twos on his left side, crawling their way up the 400s, he recognizes the set of fairy lights hanging in the living room window.

“4-6-0…” he mumbles, slowing down the car. “That’s your number, right?”

“Oh, you remembered? Yes, it’s 460.”

Diluc keeps this win for himself, and turns off the ignition in Jean’s driveway.

“So, I suppose this is it?” he asks.

“Want to take me to my door? It’s more homey for a goodbye than a car, you know,” Jean says, and Diluc blinks in surprise.

“Okay, sure,” he replies after a second of hesitation.

He follows her to her porch. She turns to face him under the warm glow of the light, her hair rich golden, and her eyes more mesmerizing than the ocean on a clear spring day.

He doesn’t know how she does it. How she looks more beautiful today, with sleepless nights creasing dark circles under her eyes, exhaustion pulling her shoulders down, than she did right after they graduated from the police academy. Breathtaking is the only word on his mind, and truly his breath is sucked away when she starts talking, for he knows this night is coming to an end, and he was afforded but a tiny little fragment of time in her company.

“Thanks for taking me home, Diluc,” she says, and his name on her tongue would be the sweetest thing if only he knew it was to say something other than a goodbye.

“You’re welcome, it was good catching up,” he replies in a flat tone, avoiding her gaze. “I’d still be down for that coffee, if you’re—”

His words are cut short by a tug on the collar of his jacket, and warm lips colliding with his—but it barely lasts an instant, and the next Jean is staring at him wide-eyed, face flushed down to her neck, stuttering.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s…it’s just that I…” she mumbles.

And Diluc would swear his brain just short-circuited, but he can’t allow himself to let this slip out of his grasp. Not after all the years he secretly prayed for this to happen, not after how many times he kept his thoughts to himself because he knew it wasn’t appropriate…

What matters is that his upside-down world has just been knocked right side up. He stares it in the eyes as he closes the space between their lips again, and for a moment, in his mind, nothing exists but the softness of her lips against his.

And then it’s Diluc’s turn to stare at Jean wide-eyed, the words for a reply gone like dandelion seeds in the wind.

“A-are you okay?” she stutters.

Diluc clears his throat, and replies, “I’m just… Why now, and not three years ago?”

Jean’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of crimson than Diluc ever thought possible, and he could swear he can hear the faint rhythmic thumps of her pulse from where he stands.

Jean gulps. “I didn’t want to date a coworker,” she mumbles, “and I… I didn’t want to risk making things awkward between us if you didn’t feel the same.”

���Ah.” And then a silence. “I’m sorry, it’s only that I’m…”

“Not interested in relationships? That’s okay, I—”

“No, on the contrary. I…” He gulps, words still slipping out of his grasp. “I didn’t consider the possibility that you might be into me, is all.”

“Ah.” Jean rubs her arms as she tries to decide on what she wants to say. “Well, I’m… I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.” Crickets somewhere in the bushes fill the few seconds of awkward silence that follow.

“Hey, Jean?” Diluc’s voice is soft as it pulls Jean out of her stupor. “Can I kiss you again?”

☆ — ☆ — ☆

The inside of Jean’s home smells like clean linen and freshly baked bread, but it barely registers in Diluc’s mind; all he smells is the bouquet of wildflowers nestled in the crook of Jean’s neck, as his lips trace the curve of it down to her clavicle.

She bends around his touch, letting his hands mould into her shape to commit all of the previously forbidden curves into a precious place of his memory. She chases his touch, placing his hands on the small of her back when he lets go, pressing her body tighter against his as she noses his hair.

He started exploring her with the taste of her lips, but then he stopped in her entryway to look at how rays of moonlight caught on the strands of her hair, like so many specks of stardust.

Something unknown quivers deep in the pit of his stomach. Part fear, part reverence; he doesn’t know where one stops and the other starts.

Unhurried, he follows behind her as she leads him up the stairs, into her bedroom, and it smells so distinctly of her that it feels, somehow, more intimate than having her lips against his. She turns to pull him to her bed, slipping his jacket off his shoulders as she kisses him again, softly, almost hesitant. Diluc lets her show him the way, hands like butterfly wings against her flushed skin, a question which seeks no answer.

And yet it is asked, just by the way Diluc’s eyes seek Jean’s crystalline gaze every time their lips part; and like a prayer it is answered, in hushed breaths fanning his temple, eager hands stripping her own blazer off her shoulders, and he’s the one who ends up slowing her down.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” he whispers.

“Why not?” Jean asks, troubled by his question.

Good question. Diluc may have imagined a moment like this before, an ephemeral fantasy fading in the sunrise; but a part of him still hesitates, conscious of how much Jean always wants to do what’s right, and conscious also that there’s no right or wrong in a relationship, there’s no protocol, no procedure, no manual.

Conscious, then, that he wants Jean to do nothing but what she truly wants.

And conscious, also, that stating it like this would absolutely make it come across as an instruction.

“We have all the time in the world,” he finally says.

Jean smiles. “I know.”

☆ — ☆ — ☆

He wakes up with the sunrise streaking her skin with golden ribbons. She’s curled up against him; he shuts his eyes again to cling onto her soft warmth, hoping to delay, if only for a minute, his inevitable departure. He nuzzles into her hair, hoping the movement doesn’t wake her up.

She sleeps soundly, slow breaths forming the sole disturbance to the stillness of the room.

I love you, he almost told her, after she laid down facing him, still naked and short of breath. “I love you,” Jean said first, and then she chuckled.

He stared at her, astonished.

And then he chuckled as well, embarrassed at his own obliviousness.

She does not need him. But she wants him to be there. She wants him to press his lips along the nape of her neck, the feeling of his rough hands stroking against her smooth skin, she wants everything that is beautiful about him, but also wants the sadness that lingers into the deepest, darkest corners of his heart. She wants all of that, and perhaps more.

Perhaps she wants to let him carve himself a space inside of her, one where he may find refuge from all the cold, cold harshness of the world every once in a while. Perhaps it’s him who needs her; perhaps he only put off letting her know that he was back, not because he wanted to shield her, but because he wanted to shield himself from the hurt and disappointment, would she not want to see him again.

Ignorant of his inner turmoil, she turns around in his arms, and lands a soft kiss on his forehead. And then another one, on the edge of his brow. And a third, on his eyelid, and a fourth on the bridge of his nose, and another on the tip, and then, finally, one on his lips, perhaps even softer than the others.

Her hand on his cheek is a touch of sunshine on a warm summer day.

She kisses him again, she lets him kiss back, lets him take all the time he needs to discover her once more.

Did he forget parts of her during his three years away? Or is he now learning what kind of person she became while he was struggling to clumsily put back together the pieces of him that fell apart?

His hands slowly map out her curves, languid in their exploration. His fingers dance on her skin, his thumbs drawing circles on her thighs leisurely. His gaze dives into cornflower blue, breaths enraptured by the sight of her as she straddles his hips.

“Make love to me again,” she asks, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Diluc asks back.

Jean bites her lip, in that adorable, almost impish way he’s very seldom seen since their childhood, while glancing at the clock on her nightstand. She raises her gaze to the ceiling as she takes a second to think, before smiling wider.

“I’ll be just fine,” she says. “The press conference is at noon.”

She shuts up further protests with her lips on Diluc’s, her body slowly rocking, the remnants of her perfume and the smell of her hair all around him, and all he wants is to get drunk on the feeling as it submerges him. His hands rise to her hips, following the outline of curves and dips up to the soft mounds of her breasts. He cups them, palming them up to thumb her nipples, and she responds with a low huff, grinding down firmer against him.

“Please,” she whispers against his lips.

He makes her gasp as he tumbles over her. “Jean, trust me, I don’t need you to beg,” he replies.

His hardness is already visible between his thighs, under his briefs, but Diluc has other things in mind. The evening before was slow at first, and then rushed as the exhilaration took hold. This morning is different.

He leans down to kiss her on the lips, slowly, and then he follows the line of her jaw, all the way up to her ear, where grazes her earlobe with his teeth, sending a wave of shivers down whole body. In her neck, he tastes the salty traces of sweat from the day before still on her skin, the faint smell of almonds and wild chicories and anise and windwheel asters still clinging right where he presses his lips. She trembles under his touch, bated breath full of anticipation, eyes misted with need.

Diluc makes her wait. Gently placing her hands near her head on the pillow, he then descends, following the lines of her body down to her clavicles, and then even lower, locking eyes with her as he takes one of her nipples in his mouth and drags his tongue across the pink nub. Jean shivers, expectant, as he repeats the motion once, twice, before moving lower, his lips leaving heated kisses along the path down to her stomach, and spreading more shivers on her skin like ripples on water.

She gasps when his lips reach the line of her panties, and again when he hooks a finger under the waistband. Pliant, she lets him slip it down her thighs and off her legs.

Diluc doesn’t let her have a second of respite. His hands smooth down the inside of her thighs, and she lets them fall open, rolling her hips to give him access to the apex of her legs. Jean keeps her hands up on the pillow, letting him have his way with her—and he doesn’t disappoint.

He teases her with hot lips trailing down the soft skin inside her thigh, hands sliding around her legs as he flicks his tongue on her clit. She tenses up, letting out a low whine, hands grappling at the pillowcase; he licks again, more intently, observing how her eyes crinkle shut and her chest heaves a half-held back sigh of pleasure. He draws his tongue more intently against her folds, intentionally winding her up inch by inch. Her head rolls back into her pillow, her breaths grow more heated, more raspy. Diluc keeps going, driving his tongue into her folds, teasing, prodding, until she moans his name in a punched-out sigh, until her voice cracks in all the right places, until her body tenses up and relaxes to his will.

Jean’s hands grapple his hair in an attempt to find purchase as she slips away, but there is no stopping him from keeling her over. It didn’t take Diluc long to learn the signs that she’s starting to come apart, and so he wears her out intently, lapping her arousal, a finger sliding inside of her and curling inside.

Before long, she’s right where he wants her.

A whine of incomprehension punctuates his gesture as he sits on his knees between her legs, but then Jean is the one begging, angling herself to better receive him.

In a single motion, she greets him, guiding him into her depths without hesitation, and soon he’s the one coming apart at the seams. Her body like an ocean, her eyes like the vastest expanse of sky, he loses himself into all of it—and nonetheless her smell, her taste, her voice, all of it brings him to shore.

She moves with him, leading him to thrust in at a languid pace, and soon he can feel her legs stiffening around his hips, her breaths strained, her whimpers barely choked whispers; he takes the lead in her stead, then, bringing her all the way to the edge, little by little.

At a crawling pace, he keeps her climbing, until he can feel her all around him, until she rewards him with a long, shuddering moan.

“Oh, Diluc!” she lets out.

And while she comes on his cock, he still doesn’t let up, instead picking up pace, leaning over her to nuzzle in the sweat-slicked crook of her neck. She almost keens into his neck, nails digging in the skin of his shoulders, encouraging him further into the motion. He buries himself into her, again and again, teeth grazing her skin, fingers grasping at the sheets to steady himself, as the pleasure takes him apart and makes him whole again in the same gesture. Soon, it’s his turn to start bursting at the seams, his moans raspy as they keep catching into his throat, his voice fraying as he whispers Jean’s name into her ear. Her hand cups his cheek, beckoning him to look into her eyes, right as he reaches the peak.

He kisses her. He kisses her, and he spills inside, and then he kisses her more.

And he kisses her again.

And again. Until Jean stops him, resting her forehead on his with a smile dancing on her lips.

And then he says it.

“I love you too,” he says.

It escapes him; a snowdrop, piercing the veil of winter.

The moment lasts. Something of the warmth of Jean’s body against his bleeds into his core. He lets the feeling grow until it engulfs him.

☆ — ☆ — ☆

At noon, Jean faces a wall of cold stares, harsh lights, and sound.

Half past that, she faces someone special.

A coffee cup in his hand, he says in a sly tone, “I thought you could use a cup.”

Jean chuckles. “Or four, really.”

Arm snaking around Diluc’s, she takes in his company the break Lisa wishes she’d taken the day before.

If Jean turned back, she’d catch a flash of Lisa’s emerald eyes from the precinct’s second story window, and she’d undoubtedly make out the smirk on her lips.

☆ — ☆ — ☆

If you liked this work, give it a Kudos on Ao3, leave a comment, leave a reply, let me know about it! Your feedback matters a lot to me!

[dallina17]

Angelic Vogue wedding headcanons?

Cute cute cute! Thank you for the ask!!

I don't think that Velvette would have thought that much about getting married. Not because she had something against it, or doesn't want to be with Emily, she just doesn't see it as something necessary.

At this point, Emily and Velvette would have dated for many years already. They live together in their own house. They know each other perfectly, their quirks, their embarrassing habits, their fears, their dreams. Velvette is basically another daughter to Lucifer and a sister to Vaggie and Charlie (and a family member to the rest of the hotel). Emily gets along well with Vox and he is always there for her. Emily and Velvette are deeply in love and don't have any intention of breaking up. They are practically married.

Emily knows that Velvette isn't that interested in a wedding. Unlike her, Velvette didn't grow up hearing stories about big weddings, with songs, and a beautiful ceremony. Unlike her, Velvette has not officiated wedding ceremonies, dreaming, looking forward to the day she would have her own. And this is hell, wedding ceremonies are not common either. So is something that she just left aside.

When Velvette asked her about it, to see if that is something she wanted, Emily always said that it was not something to worry about, because she accepted that now things were different and honestly, a wedding was something childish and one of the things she should stop thinking about. And because Velvette didn't see it as necessary, she didn't insist.

Until one day they attend a wedding (Chaggie? Stolitz? HuskerDust?) and Emily, even thou she is happy the whole ceremony, when she comes back home with Velvette she feels... strange. As if something is missing. And she can't sleep that night.

So Velvette wakes up and asks her what is going on. And Emily tells her. How she dreamed about getting married in Heaven, and how she thought it was something she didn't want anymore... but maybe she was wrong? Maybe she was lying to herself? Maybe, deep down, she still wanted it? And she knows it is a ceremony and their lives practically won't change because they are basically a married couple already. But still...

And Velvette, being so practical, is just like... "Okay. Then let's get married. Have our own ceremony.t"

Emily will be like "Wait? Are you serious? You don't care a lot about weddings" and Velvette like "Yes, but you do, and I want you to have this dream come true so... let's get fucking married!"

It has to be the weirdest way to ask someone to marry you, but Emily says YES and hugs her amazing girlfriend, giving her a lot of kisses.

And that easy... it's time to prepare a wedding!

Honestly, the Hotel gang would be like... FINALLY! WE HAVE LIKE 50 BOOKS WITH IDEAS AND PLANS FOR YOUR WEDDING NOW CHOOSE WHICH DO YOU LIKE THE MOST!!! (not literally but basically yes)

Lucifer and Alastor would have a huge fight about who is going to take Emily to the altar (Both will do it, as Emily requested, so no need to fight but they are BABIES)

As a matter of fact, it would be Chaggie's wedding 2.0, because Lucifer and Alastor would constantly be fighting for how to organize the wedding. They think they know better than the other what the girls want. But that was expected.

What wasn't expected, was that the fights would become thousands of times worse when Vox arrives. Because of course, no one but Vox is going to take Velvette to the altar and FIGHT HIM FOR IT.

So we will have Vox's point of view, Alastor's point of view, and Lucifer's point of view, the three of them fighting about how the wedding should be like. And even Alastor and Lucifer teaming up to shush Vox.

But of course, it is just for fun and these three idiots being.... idiots. Angelic Vogue has the last word.

They decide to make something big... but intimate. With only their family and closest friends. Which are more on Emily's side than Velvette's. Even some friends of Heaven will be there, because I think that by this point, it will be more common for Heaven to visit Hell and vice-versa. So Pentious, Saint Peter, and Molly will be there. Maybe even Sera and Lute, depending on what terms they are. Ah, and some of the sins like Bee and Ozzie too. The Goetia, like Stolas and Octavia. And Blitz, Loona, Moxxie, Millie, etc, Emily is friends practically with everyone.

Vaggie would be in charge of the decorations and cleaning alongside Niffty.

Angel is in charge of the invitations. He also helps Cherry organize the party (with some help from auntie Bee)

Vox is in charge of the music, and delivering the invitations.

Alastor and Husk would be in charge of the food and drinks.

Pentious would come from Heaven sometime before the wedding, to help with everything he can.

As for Velvette and Emily? They just make sure that the wedding is exactly as they want, but they let everyone help them make it. Charlie is the one directing them. She already manages a hotel and she organized her own wedding! Piece of cake! (It isn't because Luci, Al, and Vox are a mess)

The only thing that Velvette doesn't allow anyone else to do is the dresses for her and Emily. She designs alongside Emily some special, matching dresses for the occasion, and she stitches them, with Emily alongside her at every moment. Singing. Telling her a story. Talking. Or just laying her head on Velvette's knees or shoulder.

They agreed to not have a bachelorette party. Instead, they decided to spend the day together. Emily takes Velvette flying to the clouds. And they talk, cuddling each other, whispering soft things to the other, caressing each other hair, talking about their life, how they met, and what they want from since then, until they fall asleep.

The ceremony would be in a crystal room and will be something very elegant. With a lot of flowers (especially Vrieseas), fireworks, water fountains, and music.

Alastor helps Emily to get ready (who will say that a serial killer was good with hair?), while Vox helps Velvette.

I think that it would be a sweet detail if Charlie officiated the ceremony. Being the one marrying her sisters, as princess of Hell, and the one who started the bridge between Hell and Heaven.

Vaggie and Cherry would be the bridesmaids

Niffty would be the girl of the flowers. And yes, she would be throwing flowers at the guest. (Like that one Peridot scene... FLOWERS FOR YOU. FLOWERS FOR YOU)

Angel and Pentious would be the bestmen. And Pentious would be crying the whole ceremony with Angel giving him tissues at every moment.

Before leaving her on the altar, Vox would hug Velvette and tell her how proud he is of her, wishing her happiness forever.

Alastor, on the other hand, ruffles Emily's hair. Doesn't tell her anything, but his smile conveys his love for her.

When Lucifer takes Emily to the altar, he places a kiss on her forehead, like he did with Charlie at her wedding. And then he places a kiss on Velvette's forehead like he did with Vaggie. A blessing, for them to be together forever, be happy, be loyal, and never split up, despite the problems that may arise.

Velvette's vows are these: "All my life I grew up believing that fame, wealth, being popular, were the most important things in the world. I spent so many years chasing them, trying to fill the hole in my heart with them. And then you came, my sapphire, and filled that hole with your words, with your sweetness, with your love. Each day since I met you, has been like a fairytale, our tale. And my sweetiebelle, I have made a lot of mistakes, but I will make them over and over again, because they led me to meet you. It is you I want, and no one else. I wanted you yesterday, I want you now, and I want you to the end of times"

Emily's vows are these: "Before meeting you, I only saw the light and the sun. Then, I met the darkness. I was afraid and lonely. And in that moment, you took my hand and became the ray of sunshine I needed. Not because you pushed the darkness away, but because you taught me how to guide through it. You were there. First than anyone. Gave me the hope I thought I had lost. And, even after all these years, you are still that light that guides me through the difficult times. There is no one in Heaven and Hell like you, Velvette. The most beautiful, brave woman I have ever met. And I am glad to give you a piece of my heart every morning, because you deserve every bit of it"

They exchange rings. But also, brooches. Emily's one has a Vriesea, and Velvette's one has feathers of a blue and black tanager bird.

When kissing, Emily takes Velvette, and they fly together, spinning around.

Then they have a party. A very fun one. Just like someone would expect from Emily and Velvette.

But, even if they spend some time with their friends and family, all they really want to do is be alone and enjoy some time together. So they leave the party pretty early. After all, who says that you can't have two honeymoons?

And yes, Emily would call Velvette "her amazing wife" at every opportunity she has.

So that is it! Sorry if it is too long, but I got excited. I hope you liked it!

[mariacallous]

Until the dramatic departure of OpenAI’s cofounder and CEO Sam Altman on Friday, Mira Murati was its chief technology officer—but you could also call her its minister of truth. In addition to heading the teams that develop tools such as ChatGPT and Dall-E, it’s been her job to make sure those products don’t mislead people, show bias, or snuff out humanity altogether.

This interview was conducted in July 2023 for WIRED’s cover story on OpenAI. It is being published today after Sam Altman’s sudden departure to provide a glimpse at the thinking of the powerful AI company’s new boss.

Steven Levy: How did you come to join OpenAI?

Mira Murati: My background is in engineering, and I worked in aerospace, automotive, VR, and AR. Both in my time at Tesla [where she shepherded the Model X], and at a VR company [Leap Motion] I was doing applications of AI in the real world. I very quickly believed that AGI would be the last and most important major technology that we built, and I wanted to be at the heart of it. Open AI was the only organization at the time that was incentivized to work on the capabilities of AI technology and also make sure that it goes well. When I joined in 2018, I began working on our supercomputing strategy and managing a couple of research teams.

What moments stand out to you as key milestones during your tenure here?

There are so many big-deal moments, it’s hard to remember. We live in the future, and we see crazy things every day. But I do remember GPT-3 being able to translate. I speak Italian, Albanian, and English. I remember just creating pair prompts of English and Italian. And all of a sudden, even though we never trained it to translate in Italian, it could do it fairly well.

You were at OpenAI early enough to be there when it changed from a pure nonprofit to reorganizing so that a for-profit entity lived inside the structure. How did you feel about that?

It was not something that was done lightly. To really understand how to make our models better and safer, you need to deploy them at scale. That costs a lot of money. It requires you to have a business plan, because your generous nonprofit donors aren't going to give billions like investors would. As far as I know, there's no other structure like this. The key thing was protecting the mission of the nonprofit.

That might be tricky since you partner so deeply with a big tech company. Do you feel your mission is aligned with Microsoft’s?

In the sense that they believe that this is our mission.

But that's not their mission.

No, that's not their mission. But it was important for the investor to actually believe that it’s our mission.

When you joined in 2018, OpenAI was mainly a research lab. While you still do research, you’re now very much a product company. Has that changed the culture?

It has definitely changed the company a lot. I feel like almost every year, there's some sort of paradigm shift where we have to reconsider how we're doing things. It is kind of like an evolution. What's more obvious now to everyone is this need for continuous adaptation in society, helping bring this technology to the world in a responsible way, and helping society adapt to this change. That wasn't necessarily obvious five years ago, when we were just doing stuff in our lab. But putting GPT-3 in an API, in working with customers and developers, helped us build this muscle of understanding the potential that the technology has to change things in the real world, often in ways that are different than what we predict.

You were involved in Dall-E. Because it outputs imagery, you had to consider different things than a text model, including who owns the images that the model draws upon. What were your fears and how successful you think you were?

Obviously, we did a ton of red-teaming. I remember it being a source of joy, levity, and fun. People came up with all these like creative, crazy prompts. We decided to make it available in labs, as an easy way for people to interact with the technology and learn about it. And also to think about policy implications and about how Dall-E can affect products and social media or other things out there. We also worked a lot with creatives, to get their input along the way, because we see it internally as a tool that really enhances creativity, as opposed to replacing it. Initially there was speculation that AI would first automate a bunch of jobs, and creativity was the area where we humans had a monopoly. But we've seen that these AI models actually have a potential to really be creative. When you see artists play with Dall-E, the outputs are really magnificent.

Since OpenAI has released its products, there have been questions about their immediate impact in things like copyright, plagiarism, and jobs. By putting things like GPT-4 in the wild, it’s almost like you’re forcing the public to deal with those issues. Was that intentional?

Definitely. It's actually very important to figure out how to bring it out there in a way that's safe and responsible, and helps people integrate it into their workflow. It’s going to change entire industries; people have compared it to electricity or the printing press. And so it's very important to start actually integrating it in every layer of society and think about things like copyright laws, privacy, governance and regulation. We have to make sure that people really experience for themselves what this technology is capable of versus reading about it in some press release, especially as the technological progress continues to be so rapid. It's futile to resist it. I think it's important to embrace it and figure out how it's going to go well.

Are you convinced that that's the optimal way to move us toward AGI?

I haven't come up with a better way than iterative deployments to figure out how you get this continuous adaptation and feedback from the real end feeding back into the technology to make it more robust to these use cases. It’s very important to do this now, while the stakes are still low. As we get closer to AGI, it's probably going to evolve again, and our deployment strategy will change as we get closer to it.

[icharchivist]

I read someone saying that they think the way Granblue handles Siete is a good indication of good writing

Usually, the second you introduce a character who is "the most powerful", that's where things get dicey. They could solve every problem in minutes, every challenge becomes a "Well, let's get the OP guy on it"

A lot of Shounen manga and anime usually play with this trope by having the super strong guy chronically be late to the big fight, so his supporting cast gets to try and fail to stop the threat, gets their moment to shine, get beaten to show how powerful the baddie of the week is and then, when all hope seems lost, the strongest guy shows up and beats them. That's honestly fair enough. But with Siete it's handled in that he tries to remain neutral and he doesn't like resolving conflicts with violence, so he's trying to be smart about it. He could break the game immediately, we've all seen his stats in blue mode in HotS and how many more HP he had to Supreme Primarch Sandalphon, but he'd prefer not to. He could have ended Ceodric immediately, but he wanted to try and reason with the guy. It feels more organic than "Oh no, he's late again" (Siete only tends to run late to Eternal meetings, after all) and I like that he's very careful with his power and genuinely try to be responsible, even if he'll still make mistakes, because he's still just human

Also, for people complaining about the Eternals not being around during any of WMTSB, I think it's likely they were all just off saving the world in other ways, in different Skydoms perhaps, since they're usually really decentralized and by the time word got out, they got back and assembled, Danchou had taken care of it. I don't think that's so difficult to believe

Rip your askbox, I ended up having Thoughts

no worries about the askbox, it was a very interesting read, and i 100% agree.

I do think that Granblue always come to balance the scales of power starting from the fact that it has a lot of otherworldy powerful creatures and characters than just "writing them out" when the plot needs stake is too difficult to follow through.

So instead of just "is x stronger than y" Granblue has to give limitations in term of morals or area of effect, and therefore exploring more themes as how to wield said power rather than just trying to make it a mathematical match.

and it especially makes Seofon's actions really interesting because he is established as the strongest skydweller in the skies and he leads a team that is supposed to stop catastrophe from happening, and instead of trying to nerf his power or make him late or absent or slacking off, they just make him so devoted to his cause that he'll try to handle things on a different angle.

I think it's interesting by the way we often discuss him that we don't really talk about how his power will manifest against which enemy, but we talk about the unsettling aspect of his manipulations and the worry of if he ever lose control, and those end up being tangible fear on part with the power he happens to have.

it's just so interesting and i 100% agree with the ask. he's such a cool character.

[its-my-whump]

Whumpril2023 – Day 28

Bedridden - Semiconscious - Light Sensitivity

TWs: hospital treatment, panic, desperation

David had been sitting at his little brothers bedside for days by now. Sammy was hospitalized on Thursday with a gunshot wound to his upper abdomen. The bullet had not only graced his intestines but also his left lobe. That was the reason for this disgusting gurgling sound while he had been fighting to breath at all. At this point he had been breathing his own blood, that had already been bottling up his lung.

Still in the ambulance they had to intubate him, because his chances of surviving even the drive to the hospital had decreased dramatically all of a sudden. When they finally made it to the casual ward, Sam was rushed into emergency surgery.

David was pacing the hallway for hours, in which he was tearing his own hair, biting his nails and cursing the whole world and this damn bitch with a nervous trigger finger in particular.

He was still on the verge of freaking out because no news of his little brothers condition had reached him, when police tried to talk to him about the unfortunate use of a firearm. He couldn't give much coherent information, but he managed to name the murdering psycho bitch, high on coke, who had done this to his brother.

Yeah, his brother! Who probably wouldn't make it. Sammy was in surgery for several hours. The hole in his stomach and his lung had to be closed, but he had already gone into hypovolaemic shock from the huge blood loss. His organs had started to shut down.

Surgeons and staff were fighting for his life, but in the end he slipped into a coma. Which was marginal better than the other opportunity of slipping into ever lasting darkness for good.

The dedicated team managed to stabilize him as good as his currant condition would allow it, but there was only so much they could do. Now it was on him to fight his way back to the living side. He was medically respirated for his body was too weak to manage breathing on his own anymore.

David had been sitting by his bedside almost fife days. His clothes were handled as evidence and he got some scrubs when he had to hand them over to the police. So there was no need to go home and change. The desperate brother had showered in the hospital for he wasn't going to leave his brother more then necessary and he couldn't bring himself to enter the apartment again. The possibility, that it could be sealed for being a crime scene doesn't even reach his attention.

The big guy had dozed off in his uncomfortable position arranging himself between the chair and his little brothers bed, leaning over to hold his hand. The hissing of the ventilator and the constant beeping of the EEG had been reassuring enough for him to get some sleep.

But something was wrong all of a sudden. David was pulled from his sleep abruptly. The cool thin hand under his own jerking. The constant sound of his brothers heart was acting out, hectically and alarmingly beeping. Davids head shot up, when the little guys whole body started to spasm violently.

Sammy eyes were open, blunt fear and panic written all over his pale face. He just woke up to the painful reality of having a tube down his throat. He was desperately trying to breath on his own, while badly distracted by the obstacle that was pushed down his windpipe making him gag. All machines by his bedside were blinking, the alarming noise indicating that the panic was overwhelming him.

The door to his room flew open. A brigade of people stormed in.

Davids relief of Sam waking up was as big and consuming, as his fear about the state he woke up to, was. He was pushed outside, finally standing lost in the hallway, trying to comprehend, if this all was a good or a bad sign.

Minutes passed, maybe hours or just mere seconds, David couldn't tell, when the staff left Sammys room one after another. The doctor tried to explain, but more than “woke up... needed to sedate... pulled the tube... needs to rest... stabile” didn't reach his attention. Relief was getting the upper hand by these words.

The big guy had dozed off again in his uncomfortable position arranging himself between the chair and his little brothers bed, leaning over to hold his hand. There was no hissing of a ventilator, when he woke this time, but still the steady and constant beeping of the EEG. So, Sammy really did wake up, it wasn't just a dream. The ventilator was gone. Sam still white like a ghost had a nasal cannula in his face and half open eyes were searching the room. A silent wail left his lips and his Adam's apple moved slowly, the look in this features showed that it was a painful movement as well.

Glazy eyes finally found Davids. A brief but tired smile rushed over his face. Sammy tried to squeeze his brothers hand, but his attempt was weak. His eyes closing again.

[trantrumsfromthevoid]

I love your headcanon about Jasper's DnD nerdiness 45 years ago 😂 How big/involved did these games get and who did he play against?

Ha ha, thank you! I'm a big ol' nerd myself so I love these kinds of "deep dive" questions.

I feel like it first started out really, really small with only one, maybe two, people from school. I'm sure Alice played one game to see "what all the fuss" was about but with her ability to see into the future, it probably wasn't fun for anyone ... except maybe Alice. I can also see Carlisle getting into it as well and they played for awhile, but then something happens at the hospital and now Jasper's without any "family" players. Edward tried but didn't understand all the "fantasy lingo" and Emmett was too easily distracted by all the "shiny things" lol. I think Jasper probably posted signs at the high school and maybe even local community college. Maybe at a few game stores back in the day, too. Possibly at a restaurant/coffee shop if he could sweet talk them into it. (Which, knowing Jasper, I'm sure he could/did.)

While I was at the tail end of the Satanic Panic and it had mostly come and gone by the time I was really aware of things, I feel like there was probably still some hesitancy from folks (mostly adults but maybe a few "straight edge" kids) regarding DnD. If I remember correctly, I think there was some "concern" with DnD being Satanic as well. So maybe there was a bit of an "underground" vibe to Jasper's club. Maybe Jasper also used his emotional manipulation to sway people or ease their fears about it, which may have helped to add more members. But I also feel like, with Jasper's ability to elevate the moods - maybe add a little bit of "cool factor" to the appeal - I think it probably caught on in popularity pretty quickly. One week there was only one or two people during the designed game time and then three weeks later you've got eight or nine kids there.

I think, just with Jasper's limited ability to hang out with a bunch of humans, it probably was never hugely popular. I also think that - with my limited DnD knowledge - you probably don't wanna have, like, forty-five people playing, either. I think at its height, there were probably maybe ten to twelve people playing at a time. And he probably broke them up into two groups of five/two groups of six. I think it was always unsaid but Jasper was the president/organizer of the DnD club so he'd be tasked with picking a time, date, seeing about available classrooms (if at school)/other locations, who'd be on teams, etc. I can see this, almost comical moment, the first time everyone gets together and Jasper doesn't bring snacks and the one human kid being like "No snacks? I'm starving!" And then Jasper has a moment of, like, "Oh, yeah ... maybe I'll have more players if I bring snacks. Human snacks. Like chips. Mental note: research snacks."

I feel like even though Jasper seems to be pretty chill, I think he'd always wanna be the Dungeon Master (DM). Like, I think that was always unspoken as well, that Jasper was the DM. I think, too, that once Jasper found "his people" they were able to play steadily for a couple of years. Or at least until the Cullen's would have to move again. By the time the internet rolled around Jasper gave the online RP community a try but it just wasn't the same. He did it, for sure, because you have all this time, you might as well use it. But it just wasn't the same for him, yk? I also think it'd be really cool if all of Jasper's "original" teammates got together once - like a DnD reunion of sorts. I feel like wigs and costumes could go a long way with the Cullen's and I'm kinda surprised SM never thought to use them. But I can definitely see Alice aging him up (and having a lot of fun in the process) so that Jasper could hang out with his high school DnD pals again and look like he was sixty years old (or however old he'd need to be).