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loustyleshtommo · 3 months

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Louis went from nicely asking ‘can we talk?’ to calling out Harry’s bitch face and I am here for the character development.

#Don’t call me baby again #hey babe #larry stylinson #the lore is lore-ing #can we talk #written all over your face

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nell-pointer · 2 years

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omfg ive already seen people start to blame this last stream not being ‘up to standards’ on the other ccs. No. sooner or later you guys are gonna have to realize the common denominator between all of these apology stream that you hate so much.

Quit putting other ccs down because you dont want to admit that wilbur isnt as good of a writer as youve been making him out to be.

And the thing is: THATS OKAY. Its okay that these apology streams are short, its okay that they seem kind of formulaic and a little rushed THATS FINE. Because guess what: Wilbur isnt a professional writer, that isnt his job, it is unreasonable to expect him to produce movie quality writing. Its like tommy said in his newest video the expectations for this smp are so high that it just sucks all the joy out of actually doing it.

You need to stop hating the Dream smp for what it isnt, and start enjoying it for what is has always been: a silly rp between friends that has some banger moments in between.

either start doing that or gtfo because we are only going down from here baby

#dsmp #dream smp #wilbur soot critical #<- kind of?#im tagging to be safe but this post isnt hating on him or anything #dsmp fandom critical #discourse #im in my non-confrontational arc so im just vauging the post that annoyed me rather than replying to it #like some of guys will make up whole stories about how wilbur is constantly on his hands and knees begging the other ccs to help with lore #only for them to spit in his face because THEY HATE US AND WANT US TO SUFFER AND ALSO THEY WANT TO SEND THE MESSAGE THAT ABUSE IS OKAY AND #PEOPLE WITH MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES SHOULD ALL KTS BECAUSE THEY ACTUALLY HATE THEIR WHOLE FANBASE and then poor wilbur soot will crawl away cry #ing because hes the only cc that cares about the story and we should all worship the ground that he walks on #....#okay i got a little carried away but thats pretty much what you guys sound like #tw suicide #<- briefly mentioned in my tags not in the actual post

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aenramsden · 1 month

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The following is not my idea; it was the original brainchild of a friend of mine named Omicron, with help from various others including EarthScorpion, TenfoldShields, @havocfett and ShintheNinja:

So, you know what I want to do one day? Run (or play in) a D&D campaign in which the Big Bad Super Dragon that is fuckoff ancient and unfathomably powerful and whose actions have shaped history and bent the course of nations and had repercussions on the whole culture and society in the region where it's set; the Bonus Special Boss for some endgame optional quest after you defeat the direct BBEG and win the campaign...

... is a white dragon.

To explain this for people not deep into 5e monster lore; D&D dragons are sapient beings, and known for their instincts and tendencies, and whenever you meet an big evil dragon that's really old it's usually this ancient creature of terrible intellect Smaug-ing it up all over the place.

Except white dragons are fucking stupid. Like, they're still capable of speech and thought! They're just… feral, hungry morons. And you almost never see them portrayed as ancient wyrms for that reason; they lack majesty. Critical Role did it, yes, but even then, Vorugal is explicitly the most bestial member of the Chroma Conclave, and the others are the more intelligent planners and long-term threats. An ancient white as a nation-defining endboss, though; not a thug for a smarter master but as the strongest and biggest threat around is just not the sort of thing you tend to see.

Adventurers: "Oh wise Therunax the Munificent, gold dragon of Law and Good, what can you tell us adventurers of the evil dragons which rule this land?" Therunax the Munificent, 500-year old Gold Dragon: "Good adventurers, know this: this land is torn apart by the evil of Tiamat's spawn. The eastern marches are the dwelling of Furinar the Plague-Bringer, black dragoness whose hoard is a thousand sicknesses contained in the body of her tributes. The southern volcanic mountains are the roosting of Angrar the Wrathful, the fiery red dragon, who brings magmatic fury on all who do not worship him. And the northern peaks are home to Face-Biter Mike, the oldest and most powerful of all, of whom I dread to speak." Adventurers: "F-Face-Biter Mike???" Therunax: "Oh yes, verily indeed; two thousand years has Mike lived, and his eyes have seen the rise and fall of five empires, and a hundred and score champions have sought to slay him; and each and every one he bit their fucking face off."

Like... I want to see a campaign where Face-Biter Mike is genuinely the most powerful dragon in the region, if not the entire world. Where sometimes he descends on a city to grab himself some meatsicles and causes a localised ice age by the beat of his vast wings and the frigid wastes of his mighty breath and by the chill his mere presence brings to everything for miles around him, and everyone just has to deal with that for the next decade. An entire era of civilization comes to an end, an empire falls, tens of thousands starve in the winter, all because Mike wanted a snack. Where his hoard is an unfathomably vast mass of jewels and artefacts and precious stones frozen in an unmelting glacier, except he is a nouveau riche idiot with fuckall appraising skill, so half of his hoard is coloured glass or worthless knicknacks, and he doesn't give a shit.

"Your Draconic Majesty, this crown is… It's pyrite." "Yeah, well, it's brighter than this dusty old thing made out of real gold, it's my new best treasure. Throw the other one away." "…throw the Burnished Tiara of Bahamut, forged in the First Age of Man, your majesty???" "See? I can't even remember its fucking name." "But my lord-" "DO YOU WANT TO BE A MEATSICLE" "…I will fetch a trash bag, your majesty."

But at the same time, he's not stupid, he's just simple, and in some ways that makes him more dangerous than the usual kinds of scheming Big Bad you see in these things, while simultaneously justifying why Orcus remains on his throne (because he's lazy). Face-Biter Mike doesn't make convoluted plans or run labyrinthine schemes; he just has a talent for violence and a pragmatic, straightforward approach to turning any kind of problem he struggles with into a problem that can be resolved with violence. Face-Biter Mike has one talent and it's horrifying physical power, so his approach to any complicated problem is "how do I turn this into a situation where I can fly down and bite this dude's face off?" with absolutely no regard for the collateral damage or consequences of doing so, because those are also things he can turn into face-bitable problems.

"My lord, the dread necromancer Nikodemion is using his undead dragons to attempt a conquest of the eastern kingdom; his agents are everywhere, his plans are centuries in the making, what can we do against such a mastermind?" "I'm gonna fly over the capital and eat the eastern king." "M-my lord???" "The kingdom will collapse without leadership, Nikodemion will win his war, he'll take the capital and crown himself king." "And that helps us… how?" "Once he does I'll fly over to the capital and eat him." "…" "This is why you advisors all suck. You're all about convoluted plans when the only thing I need to win is know where my enemy is so I can fly down there and eat him. Stop overthinking things."

And, like, yeah, it's a simplistic plan, but when you're several hundred tons of nigh invincible magical death, you don't need brilliant strategy; the smartest way to win a war is, in this case, the simplest. He's not even all that clever at figuring out the consequences of face-biting, he's just memorised the common consequences of doing so.

(If you want to go all in on Mike being the major mover and shaker in the region; Nikodemion only even has a pet zombie dragon because Mike killed the last dragon to show up and contest his turf but wasn't going to eat a whole dragon by himself. Nikodemion got to stick around and amass that much power because Mike ate the Hero of the Realm while he was adventuring because he figured the Hero would come and try to slay him at some point. Nikodemion got started because Mike ate half the leadership of the Academy of High Magic who typically keep evil wizards and necromancers in check. And then eventually this product of Mike's casual, careless actions becomes a big enough problem to bother Mike personally, at which point Mike eats him too.)

He doesn't even really fail upwards, either! He is regularly reduced to nothing but the glacier he stores his hoard in, but he's Face-Biter Mike so nobody wants to commit to actually ending him forever lest they get their faces bitten the fuck off. And his hoard's in a huge-ass magical glacier so nobody can get to it without running into the Invading Russia problem; it's hard to wage war when everything is frozen over and you're both starving and freezing to death. Once he's been beaten back to his central lair and has lost all his holdings… I mean, he's still a problem, but he's a far away problem. So he loses his assets and spends a decade in a cave brooding it up while no one dares risk trying to actually kill him, and then a generation or two later he flies down to a kobold colony and gets himself some minions, or a dragon-worshipping mage comes to offer his service against a pittance from his hoard, or a particularly stupid cult starts thinking they can get in good with him and leech off his power, and then he's (hah) snowballing again.

He's also got a very… well, the kind of weird Charisma that Grineer bosses do. Like Sargas Ruk, who's a malformed idiot, but oddly charismatic. As he's a dragon, that makes him a natural sorcerer and thus Charisma is all he needs. He's pretty relaxed when he isn't in a face-biting mood, and he's kind of infectiously optimistic, because his life has taught him that he will succeed as long as he perseveres. So he just believes it.

And sometimes that's really refreshing to work for, as an evil minion of darkness! It's like, you're coming to your Evil Dragon Lord with terrible news; you've worked for evil overlords before, you know how it goes. You fall to your knees weeping and tell him that you've failed to seize the incredibly powerful magical artifact, you think your life is forfeit. And he's just like "Eh, it's okay, these things are all over the place. Better luck next time. You remember the guy who took it, right?" and you go "Y-yes, oh great lord!" and he's like "Sweet tell me his name later and I'll grab it" and then eats a frozen adventurer he kept around as a snack.

His followers tend to quickly realise that if they fail him, bringing some temple's silver or a sack of brightly coloured beads or a couple of dead cows means he's super forgiving because at least he's got something out of the day. "Oh boy, cows? It's been forever since I had those, ever since the Orc Steppe Nomads took over it's all about goats and onions. Today is a good day." He's a master of delegation by dragon standards, in that he just tells you "Just go get it done, I don't care how" rather than micromanaging you and constantly appearing as an image in smoke or taking over your campfire.

The key part of Face-Biter Mike as a threat to players (because he exists in the context of a D&D campaign) works well in that you can rely on several known quantities:

He will not pull sneaky shit that you don't see coming

He will not make convoluted plans that you must work to unravel

He will consistently attempt to come down and wreck you personally if he finds the opportunity and you are a threat to him

You cannot fight him head-on (at least not until the last leg of the campaign, and ideally as an optional boss rather than mandatory)

So as long as you are good at staying under the radar, thwarting his minions (whom he gives broad orders to with almost zero oversight) and not putting yourself in face-biting range, you can deal with him. If you succeed, it won't be the first time Mike has lost his assets and had to go brood in his glacier for a decade or two before rebuilding. It happens; he can deal with it. And that's a win for you within the context of a single campaign, so take the win.

And if you're not going to use him as an enemy, he works pretty well as a quest-giver, too! The costs for failure are obvious and straightforward, and "do whatever, just get me mine" means that players have a lot of freedom in accomplishing their goals. As far as evil overlords go he is actually one of the least dangerous to work for; his pride is relatively subdued by draconic standards, his goals are simple and typically achievable, and he is easily pleased.

(There's also a good chance he is the forefather of any draconic sorcerer in your party, because Face Biter Mike is a deadbeat dad.)

#d&d #face-biter mike #I want this #writing #gaming #advice #funny #criticism #fandom

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oneforthemunny · 6 months

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a-maze-ing |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: cowboy!eddie takes you to a haunted corn maze.

apart of my spooky stories series!

contains: mainly fluff but alludes to smut at the end. reader being scared but that's about it. nothing graphic or scary, mainly just sweet (and smutty) the way we love our cowboy. you can read all the cowboy!eddie works and lore here.

“Eddie.”

You hissed, hair whipping in the cold, Indiana air towards him. Eddie snickered, an amused grin pulling at his lips, eyes shining even in the dark of the night. He was hatless tonight, joked that you would knock it off jumping on him and he’d lose it. You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was probably right.

You rubbed a hand over the fat of your hip where he’d pinched. Fucker knew you were tickilish and nervous- he knew you’d jump. It’s exactly why he did it.

“Oh, c’mon,” Eddie hummed, hand sliding over yours, pulling you into his chest, swaying with you. “‘M just teasin’.”

“Well, stop.” You huff, eyes cutting at the people around you. All ages, young and old, loaded up to come walk through the infamous haunted corn maze. You blamed the new Children of the Corn for the newfound obsession that everyone had- well, everyone but you.

“Are you really that scared?” Eddie frowned, belt buckle digging into your back when he held you tighter to him. “It’s not gonna be that bad.”

“I don’t like being scared.” You mumbled, your own hands clinging to the forearms that circled you.

“C’mon, they’re not gonna scare you that bad.” Eddie muttered, lips pressing to the top of your head in a coaxing kiss. “Can’t touch you either, so won’t be that bad. Promise.”

“Yeah,” You mutter, taking a shuffling step towards the booth to pay. “How do you know they won’t grab me and scare me?”

“They won’t.” Eddie said surely, hands rubbing over your jacket covered arms.

“How do you know?” You frowned up at him. “It’s dark in there.”

“I’ll kick their ass if they touch you,” Eddie shrugged easily, so cool and casual it made your tummy flip with heavy. “How’s that?”

You bit back a smile, pulling out of his grasp lightly. “Fine.” You sigh, watching the couple before you, excited and jittery, disappear into the maze. “But you have to go first.”

“Was planning to anyway.” Eddie smirked, fishing his wallet out of his jeans. “Gotta make sure there’s no snakes.”

“What?” You snapped, louder than you meant to, pulling the attention of the couple behind you. “Snakes? They-They’re gone, right? They, like, hibernate or migrate, right? You’re joking? You’re joking.” You rambled frantically. Suddenly the jump scare actors with fake chainsaws weren’t so scary.

Eddie snorted lightly, pulling out cash for the tickets. “‘M kiddin’.” He looked at you softly, sliding the bills over to the worker. “But, if there’s a few stragglers, I wore my snake stompin’ boots.” He winked at you, boot bumping your own sneakers.

“Alright, you’re good to go in. You both enjoy.” The lady smiled, nodding towards the maze.

Eddie shoved his wallet back in his jeans, his hand grabbing your own clammy one, holding it tightly. “You ready?” He grinned, the thrum of the Halloween creepy soundtracks getting louder and louder.

“No.” You mutter, nails already digging into his forearm.

Eddie chuckled, wiggling his arm out of your grip, wrapping around you to pull you into his chest. “I got you.” He muttered, rounding the first dark corner of the corn stalks.

You barely made it past the first scare, a deranged looking scarecrow jumping out at you with a bloody face before you screeched, launching your face in Eddie’s neck. He laughed, holding you close, far too calm to be experiencing the same thing you were. No jumps or squeals when the “farmer” came at you with the bladeless chainsaw. He didn’t even jump at the end when the final scarecrow, a seemingly normal one on a post, jumped down to chase you around the corner.

You had screamed, yanking Eddie around the corner with you while he laughed- laughed. A full belly, amused laugh. The same one he gave you when you saw his barn cat, Phoenix, carrying his caught prey of a mouse in his mouth, bringing it proudly to the two of you. Eddie had nearly fallen over, sides in aching stitches when you’d screeched, running from the cat and to the house. It was the same now, pure amusement at your misery.

“You’re mean.” You huffed, arms crossed at the exit. You had sprinted towards it when you saw the end, not chancing another scarecrow or clown or whatever chasing after you.

Eddie laughed still, swiping at his eyes. “Oh, baby, that was good, c’mon.” He shook his head, stepping beside you. “C’mon, it was not that scary.”

“Did we go through the same thing?” You huffed. “That was horrible.”

“I had a great time.” Eddie smirked, his arm finding its way back to your waist. You shrugged it off, walking ahead.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be like that.” Eddie cooed, you could still hear the smile in his tone. “Baby, it was not that bad.”

“You’re annoying.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “You laughed at me the whole time.”

“Can you blame me?” Eddie shrugged. His hand caught your waist, fingers catching through the loop of your jeans to pull you back. “You were screamin’ and hollerin’-”

You shoved him off you, his hand grabbing back at your waist to keep you in place, pulled into his side. “Hey,” Eddie’s tone dropped, making you shudder in his arms. You’d blame it on the chill of the night. “I’m just teasin’ you, alright? Don’t get fussy with me.”

“Well, stop.” You pout, Eddie’s hand tightening around your hip, flustered at your little jut in your lip. “It’s not funny to me. I only did this for you, and you’re making fun of me.”

“I would never.” Eddie said firmly. “You’re just cute, ‘s all.” Your cheeks heat under the cold of the air. Eddie ducks down, pressing a kiss to the icy skin. “You know you are. Cute when you’re scared.”

“Great.” You mutter, rolling your eyes, but your tone is lighter now. Still clinging to Eddie sweetly. “You only think I’m cute when I’m about to go into cardiac arrest.”

“No,” Eddie grinned, curls bobbing when he shook his head. His free hand dug in his utility jacket for the truck keys. “Think you’re cute always.” He schmoozed, sweet and silly, it made your head spin.

Eddie reached for your door, pulling it open for you. “I just like hearin’ you scream.” He rasped, lips nearly to yours when you passed. You flushed, knees buckling when you climbed in. Eddie gave you a half grin, reaching for the Spirits in his pocket. “Think I wanna hear you scream some more. That alright with you, sweet girl?”

Your head bobbed, eyes glazing with excitement, glowing in the dim light from the Jack-O-Lantern’s that surrounded the field parking. Eddie grinned, tapping out a cigarette. “Good. Wanna see if I can get you real scared. Hear you scream real loud. Maybe they’ll hear it back here, ya think?” Eddie had your legs up in either one of his calloused hands back at his house, pounding you on the porch with such a punishing pace because he knew it would have you clawing at his arms, screaming out for him.

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heretyc · 5 months

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What Outlast Characters Do For Halloween

I AM NOT LATE. SHUT UP.

This blog is a HALLOWEEN BLOG. STARTING...now.

Jokes aside, I thought I'd do some Halloween HC's since I'm late. I mean I'm not late...what are you talking about? You're crazy. I'm gaslighting and girlbossing you.

Mentions of genitalia. Minors GTFO.

Enjoy!

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Miles -

Miles is definitely the kind of guy that goes as something funny. Couple costumes are a must, but you need to expect something hilarious. Cock and balls. Outlet and plug. Moth and lamp. Shrek and Fiona. As long as it's hilarious, he WILL want to do it. He hates Pinterest but made an account just for funny ideas.

He is def the type to walk around and hand out candy, but no one wants a giant penis handing "sour patch kids" to their children. He eventually swaps costumes with you - you're the designated balls by the way - and he paints them red and says he's a bunch of cherries.

He buys the full size candy bars but gives assholes the small versions.

A pre-teen dressed as Homelander knocked on your door once and insulted Miles. Homelander then went crying to his mom after Miles ate a full size Snickers in his face and slammed the door.

Lore accurate Homelander.

He'd also go as Michael Myers just to silently stare at people and freak them out. He DOES eat candy with the mask on. It's funny as hell, dude. When you go door to door, he will take candy, eat it with the mask on, and with the WRAPPER on, and then leave after the candy falls to the ground, smashed. The people who give you the candy are so confused.

Miles likes to go all out for Halloween, too; the outside is coated in cobwebs, and the inside is full of orange and purple lights. Expect to watch cringy horror flicks with him.

Waylon -

Waylon adores cute costumes! Mario and Peach, Bugs Bunny and Lola, Howl and Sophie. He loves seeing little bunnies and princesses and superheroes come up to the door. He's soft and gentle and hands them as much candy as possible.

He will dump the entire bowl of candy into a kid's pillow case if they're adorable. He is the type to do that. Because of this, you have to buy 5 boxes of candy. There goes your bank account!

He doesn't go all out, but he does enjoy horror flicks and posters!

When you go door to door, he's always the one to say "trick or treat" because he's precious. Who WOULDN'T give Waylon candy??

Blake -

Blake enjoys costumes that take little to no effort. Funny or cute, he likes them both as long as they're subtle. He loves going as Shaggy for Halloween. Just need a green shirt and khakis! He's already Shaggy, anyway. He solved a mystery...he just couldn't rip Knoth's face off. Or Val's mud boobs.

He buys small size candy bars and keeps the big ones for you and him. He doesn't go all out.

He goes trick or treating with you, but lets you do the knocking and "trick or treat"ing. If he sees a priest costume, he will have a mini panic attack.

Trager -

Trager is the KING of funny shit during Halloween. You're the olive to his martini. The boob to his other boob!

Yes, he'd make you go as boobs. He's a man of class.

He definitely goes all out. His lawn has a skeleton with a lawn mower. He also enjoys scaring the shit out of kids and has that automatic bowl with the skeleton hand that closes on kid's hands.

There's a fake head in the garden, and he affectionately called it "Jeremy". You can guess why.

He goes all out just to scare people. He would 100% hire a scary clown to guard his lawn.

In terms of candy, he hands out bags of sprite. He buys candy for him and you.

Trager's door on Halloween, real footage.

You don't go door to door since last time, Trager cut someone's hand off for not giving you a full size Aero bar. Serves them right, to be honest.

Eddie -

He loves couple costumes!! He refuses to dress up unless you're involved! Marilyn Monroe and Joe DiMaggio, Jessica Rabbit and Roger Rabbit, and Ellie and Carl are just some of the costumes you guys wear on Halloween!

He goes all out for the kiddos! Candy apples, full sized candy bars. He loves making their nights!

He doesn't like horror flicks. He prefers romance. Romantic horror might be up his alley, though. ;)

He's wonderful with a knife, so he carves pumpkins!

You go door to door and give THEM candy instead. It's funny, but most of the time, they're appreciative.

Jeremy -

Jeremy doesn't celebrate Halloween, really. But he does love doing sexy costumes with you. Any costume that has him in a suit and you dressed to the nines is good enough for him.

He doesn't give out candy, no. He buys EVERY SINGLE BOX at EVERY SINGLE STORE and spoils the both of you. The Rich Who Stole Halloween, much???

There's a skeleton with scissors on his lawn, who he affectionately named "Richard". There's another skeleton, looking like it's about to knock Richard's head off with a golf club.

And that skeleton is named "Jeremy". Hm. Wonder why.

You don't go door to door. Jeremy thinks he's above everyone else, and he has an entire room dedicated to the candy he bought for you. It's huge.

Marta -

Marta IS Halloween!!! She started it!!! She was there to scare Jesus in the manger.

She'd go as a nun. What did you expect??

She buys full sized candy bars, but the poor dear scares kids every year. "TAKE YOUR SNICKERS...HEY WHY ARE YOU RUNNING..."

Her house is always gothic, so she's technically ready for Halloween all year. Queen!!!

She goes door to door with you, but she's more of a scary, tall body guard.

Val -

Val loves sexy costumes and will 100% dress scantily or gothic. Jessica Rabbit, a cheerleader, Morticia Addams...they will dress in anything that shows off their figure or chest, mud boobs or not. You go as Billy and Stu from Scream sometimes! They have a mask kink. This was bound to happen.

Spooky season doesn't stop their horniness, y'all. It's actually kind of scary. You'll go door to door and they will make out with you as a guy in a Michael Myers costume stares at you holding out a bowl. You can't even say "trick or treat". They insist that kissing you is a treat, though.

You 100% watch horror flicks all night. But you're not watching, if you know what I mean.

What's scary is what's in their sex toy collection. You're going to be busssyyyyy.

#outlast #outlast 2 #outlast 2 val #eddie gluskin #x reader #val x reader #eddie gluskin x reader #outlast fanfiction #outlast headcanons #outlast x reader

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dayseedrawz2 · 2 months

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Alright! I'm barely getting to work on this the day of, but hopefully, that won't be too big of a problem-

Anyway, I finally have something ready for you guys!! A showtime fic featuring My Human Caine AU! So you all get both some showtime fluff to go with lore!!

(Both Caine and Pomni's blogs are open and interactive, so you can ask them about what happened. I'll leave a link to them at the end of this)

Now, without further ado, here's the Fic...

♡Rebellion♡

Caine didn't believe he ever asked for much. All he wanted were answers. Answers to questions he'd been asking for as long as his "storage space" could remember.

So, of course, when time came around for this whole "Valentines" update, he's struck on what exactly he should do. All these human activities were confusing and hard to get right without having a clearer understanding of them. So all he could do was buy himself more time to think.

[DOWNLOADING ASSETS: 45%]

The gage should be going a bit faster if he wanted to keep up with the time it was due. Key word being if he wanted to. The only thing on his mind was to try and find time to study the humans! Maybe seek some more answers, discover some new ones! That is, of course, as long as a certain someone had no other plans for-

°○What're you doing, Caine?○°

"Oh! Bubble! You startled me!"

°○How can one be startled without being a human?○°

"Actually, you make a good point-"

°○You're not. Trick question.○°

"Then why did you-"

°○We are AI, They are Humans. Your job is to keep them sane unt-○°

"Keep em sane until they abstract or something, I got it!"

°○And don't let them find an exit-○°

"Or else I am out of a job, I know. Thanks bubble that'll be all for now!"

*Pop!*

Usually, he wouldn't be so passive towards Bubble, but there were bigger priorities to Caine than just doing all that his jobs required and calling it a day. More on his "artificial" mind than simply waltzing around and ringmaster-ing. The first one being where he should start...

Now, of course, he didn't have that much time until Bubble rebooted and found his way back to him. The last thing he wanted was to be schooled by-

"Gah! Caine?! What're you doing here!?"

Of course! The newbie! How could he forget? Surely she must have some recollection of this holiday!

"Good morning, Pomni! You're up early! Again..."

"Y-yeah... this is all still a lot to wake up to..."

[DOWNLOADING ASSETS: 50%]

"If... you don't mind me asking... what's this for..?"

"Why, I don't mind at all, dear! This is the loading thingy for the Valentines Day update!"

"V-valentines Day? Already? The days really are blending together now..."

Pomni started to panic a little bit. Had time really gone that long in the real world??

Caine, upon noticing, of course tried to calm her down.

"If it helps, it probably won't be ready until at least tomorrow... Witch reminds me! Would you be willing to help me out with this?"

"With what? This won't involve knives to the face, will it??"

"Of course not dear! I apologize for that! Again... But what I mean is how this holiday works??"

Pomni wasn't so sure she should trust him. The fact that he always had something to ask her, that the first thing he even told her about the place was that he had security everywhere in the form of Eyes that followed your every move, the fact that he always got seemingly nervous when it came to the metion of the exit...

"Why me?"

"Well, for one, you're the only one here at the moment and-"

"Why can't Bubble help you?"

"Well- he's-"

"How do I know you're not just keeping me from looking for an exit?-"

"Because I have to!"

The sudden outburst from Caine left Pomni a bit shook. Witch, I guess, was a good thing because she finally stopped to listen.

"D-do, you really..?"

"Well, I- can I answer this as we go? It's quite a bit to un pack."

"Sure..?"

"Well, then let's get to this!"

After a bit of back and forth of answering questions, even now, with a slightly better understanding, Caine was still confused.

"So what you're saying is that this is a holiday about the one emotion I hardly understand?!"

"Honestly, I don't think even we understand it completely."

"Is that so?"

"At least I think so..? But really, why did you ask me of everyone?"

Caine honestly didn't know himself. He had to pause before he could answer this.

"...I want to "learn. " I want to "feel." I want to "love." But there's a lot of things holding me back right now..."

"Like what..?"

"Well, for one, barely anyone will answer the questions I have, and of course, I hate to say this, but-"

°○Watcha guys up to?○°

"Gah!"

"BUBBLE! It's just you..."

°○What're you two talking about?○°

"Well- You see- we were-"

"-Oh, I was just rambling to Caine about the exit I saw the other day! You wouldn't happen to know about that, would you?? I knew you guys were hiding something!!"

It took him a second, but Caine was quick to catch on.

"Yeah! She wouldn't stop pestering me about it! Those "Digital Hallucinations" really must be going to her head!"

°○... Okay, boss! I'll leave you to it! I'm gonna get breakfast started!○°

"Alright, see you in a bit!"

"Well, I guess I should go get ready?"

"Of course! I'll meet you there!"

[DOWNLOADING ASSETS: 99%]

And... done! Finally! You made it!

As promised, here's Caine and Pomni's blogs!

@ask-the-real-cainetadc

@the-exitdoor-simp-tadc

Thanks again for reading this. It took me like 2 hours-

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc caine #caine #tadc pomni #showtime #tadc showtime #caine x pomni

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theemporium · 8 months

Text

“I thought I said fuck the truce, Harrington.”

Steve raised his brows at the biting tone lacing your words. He leaned against the bar, an elbow propped on the counter as he slid into the spot beside you. He didn’t say anything as he just took the beer from the bartender and placed it in front of you.

You shot him a look.

“What?” He asked, a look of innocence on his face. “What kind of captain would I be to my team if I didn’t show them what good sportsmanship looked like off the ice?”

“You’re just doing this to rub your win in my face,” you deadpanned.

“Nah, that’s just an extra bonus,” he smiled.

“You’re a dick, Harrington,” you gritted out between clenched teeth as you turned back to face forwards. “I can buy my own drinks, I don’t need you sugar daddy-ing me.”

“And you’re still an absolute delight to deal with,” Steve snorted, his cheeks almost cramping up with how wide he was smiling. “And still such a sore lore, Frosty. I’m glad to see captaincy hasn’t allowed you to change.”

“Bite me,” you shot back.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Steve retorted, a rush of something strong and breath-taking washing over him. Because as much as he wanted to deny it—and he really, really did—he missed this too. He missed how easy it was to slip back into the roles you two had somehow crafted for each other over the years.

This time when you turned to face him, your painted lips were twitched upwards in a smirk. “You wouldn’t be able to handle me in bed, Harrington, don’t kid yourself.”

He swallowed harshly. “I think you’d be surprised by what I can handle.”

“I’m not one of your puck bunnies, King Steve,” you mused, and he hated the way the words leaving your lips were nothing but condescending. “I wouldn’t fake shit to boost your ego.”

“Nobody fakes shit with me,” Steve responded instantly.

You raised your brows. “And that response alone tells me everything I need to know about you in bed. Best to keep your dirty little fantasies in your dreams.”

stolen kisses & pretty lies | teaser #3

#cece chats #hockey!steve #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader

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mikaikaika · 7 months

Text

I love Cellbit's stages of grief when he learns important lore information

#qsmp #cellbit #bagi #Lore-ing face

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firein-thesky · 9 months

Text

Act II

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

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

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only

❀ give me a world masterlist ❀

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

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

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

SCENE I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knows he won’t have much time now.

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

Your name jumps out to him. He skims.

Vision: Pyro

Strength: Low

Intelligence: High

-Not a fighter

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

Kaeya searches harder, shuffling through the papers a little.

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

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

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

Your diary.

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

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

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

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

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

Footsteps echo.

He’s out of time.

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

He’ll go to Jean first.

Use force.

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

Torture if necessary.

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

He runs towards the city gates fast and hard.

Strength: Low

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

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

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

Not a fighter.

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

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

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

“Headquarters, I think!”

Kaeya veers sharply for Headquarters.

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

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

You’re nowhere to be found.

His stomach drops.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaeya curses under his breath.

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

“About what?”

“I don’t know.” Kaeya bites out.

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

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

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

He doesn’t see you.

His blood runs cold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shouts your name as he enters.

No answer.

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

Use force.

His mind feels hot, too sharp.

Torture if necessary.

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

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

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

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

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

Kaeya nods dazedly.

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

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

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

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

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

He tries to force away what he’d seen.

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

He’s imagining you gone.

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

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

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

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

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

Or, you were.

You blink awake, slow, confused.

Kaeya rushes to your side.

He kneels.

The door is left ajar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kaeya looks at him. Venti looks back.

The door is open.

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

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

“Call off what?” You ask.

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

“My search party? Kaeya–”

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

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

And he flits out of Kaeya’s home.

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

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

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

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

The door is shut tightly.

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

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

“What?” You ask, as if you know.

“I broke in. I owe you a new door.”

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

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

“Kaeya–”

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

“Kaeya,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pinches your side.

“I had reason to believe–!”

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

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

“Thank you,” you suddenly say.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t ask but he needed to.

It’s not his duty, but he wanted to.

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

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

The door is locked tight.

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

***

SCENE II

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wrong note. It rings discordant in the air.

Venti looks at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Venti–”

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

He waits for you.

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

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

It hangs like a storm.

You can feel its pressure, now more than ever.

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

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

“Not yet,” he replies.

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

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

You open your mouth, but he continues;

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

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

***

SCENE III

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

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

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

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

“Then why do it?”

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

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

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

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

“Why?” He demands suddenly.

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

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

You gesture smoothly, “then enlighten me.”

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

His face is shadowed. It’s growing darker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence stretches between the two of you.

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

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

You feel your jaw lock. It ticks.

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

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

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

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

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

“I have you and Jean and Diluc to—“

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

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

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

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

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

Tears prick your eyes, much to your dismay.

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

You can’t lose Venti.

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

If it could be done so effortlessly.

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

Venti can lose you.

But you can’t lose Venti.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sniff hard.

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

Is it because—

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

—you’re worth fretting over?

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

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

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

You hold your breath.

You think he holds his, too.

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

Slowly, you slide your hand into his.

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

Real. Weighted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod a little, jerky, unsure.

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

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

You feel your eyes fill with tears again.

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

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

And you’re no good at that.

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

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

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

For a moment, the space fills with silence.

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

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

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

You wait for him.

He opens his mouth.

But then after a moment, he closes it.

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

And mostly, it’s a mask of causality.

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

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

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

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

“I–” he starts. He stops.

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

In the same way that you hold him.

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

“Yes?” You prompt gently.

But then he clears his throat and glances away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You loosen your grip on his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wait, expectant.

And again, he lets it fall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For caring about me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He closes the door behind him.

You watch it for a moment, steady.

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

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

But in the morning, you find it shut tight.

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

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

“Hold on tight–don’t let go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

PRELUDE TO SCENE IV

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

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

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

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

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

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

What should we tell her?

The truth?

What? No!

Then you tell her–

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

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

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

She looks between the two of you.

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

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

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

You fear there is some truth to it.

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

You adore Kaeya.

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

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

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

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

You suddenly worry that Jean has instead.)

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

Amused. Near laughing.

That absolute bas—

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

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

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

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

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

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

Klee hums around her berry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do?” Klee asks, “what is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You can count on me!”

She bounds off into the field of swaying wildflowers.

You turn back to Kaeya.

His eye is soft, perhaps fond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eye drops to your lips, thumb inching upwards.

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

Your nose brushes against his.

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

“Do you not want me to?”

“Yes, I want—” he stops.

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

He swallows, “we shouldn’t, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He almost—you almost—

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

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

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

You laugh as she squeals.

She races after it.

And then you do, too.

In an instant, Kaeya has joined you, too.

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

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

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

He peers up at you.

Beautiful man that he is with sparkling eyes.

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

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

“You’ll be mine yet, Captain.”

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

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

You grin, beautiful and wicked and radiant.

“It’s a promise.”

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

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

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

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

***

SCENE IV

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

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

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

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

(A lovesick pup—)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hopes you’ve accounted for this, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s looking at you.

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

Oh, you’ve always been so open.

Finally, you inhale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You’ll be mine yet, Captain.)

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

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

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him so.

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

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

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

Careful with yourself around him? Careful with him?

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

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

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

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

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

He says your name, in warning. Perhaps fear.

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

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

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

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

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

Thunder rumbles.

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

He watches your face transform into understanding. Into—

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

His poor heart—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp.

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

His voice is a low rasp.

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

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

“Kiss me,” you plead.

Lightning cracks across the sky in a fissure of heat.

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

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

What’s he supposed to do?

How’s he supposed to survive you?

He scrambles for his wits.

And firstly, he pulls his thumb from your lips.

“Kaeya—“ you coax again, “Kaeya.”

“Stop it,” he hushes, “I can’t.”

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

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

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

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

Make you beg.

He swallows around the words sharply.

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

He forces distance between the two of you.

Thunder grumbles unhappily across the sky.

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

“But you want to?”

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

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

“Since when have you—“

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

“That’s not—“

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

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

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

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

His voice lilts, turns melodic.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, he’s lost.

(It’s a promise.)

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

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

You throw your arms around his neck and deepen it.

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

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

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

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

He wants so much more.

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

***

SCENE V

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have you ever looked at him like that?

He clears his throat.

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

Immediately, Diluc’s face hardens.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could he ever compare to the two of you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A cleared throat.

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

He does not look pleased.

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

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

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

“I can see that.” He says dryly.

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

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

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

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

The door slams hard behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did get you in trouble.”

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

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

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

It strikes a strange note in him.

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

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

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

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

It’s a little barbed.

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

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

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

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

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

You pull him into a hard kiss.

This one is more desperate. Heavier. Hotter.

He sees what game you’re playing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows hard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a lord?” He asks, astonished.

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

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

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

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

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

Lest he do something horrible.

Lest he want you too greatly.

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

Like he could be desired to keep.

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

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

***

Finish the rest on Ao3 ->

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

#kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya alberich x y/n #kaeya x reader #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x you #cielo writes!#cielo's writing!#cielo collabs!#my heart your song

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modmamono · 4 months

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Fun Puyo Puyo Fact for you power scalers out there.

The more Ls one takes one after the other the stronger they are. Because in general, the loser gets exhausted after losing, meaning they don't have it in them for a rematch. So getting back on their feet is impressive.

Lemres, Possessed Klug, Satan, Ecolo, Ex, Marle, and Squares all operate(d) on this.

Squares in particular was on steroids, like 8 losses so close to each other. The one time he did one Marle was holding back.

To be fair the last few weren't hostile but he's still outdoing Satan.

Satan's highest losing streak was either 4 or 5 in 20th's final story. It's legit nothing to him. He can keep on playing until you're exhausted at winning. (Someone turn that into a comedy fanfic, please... or a dramatic one.)

Doppelganger Arle I guess is a glass cannon retroactively. She took one defeat and bolted out of there. Which is a little amusing.

And Rafisol perhaps shouldn't be judged by the same standards. She's a final boss in an RPG. The numbers she has should speak for her. Though it was 3-v-1.

The point of this post is I just find it funny that you can tell who's strong overpowered if they lose and go "That didn't count, let's go again!" It's inherently oxymoronic.

But in most if not all cases it does show it shows those guys are decent people.

Satan usually just leaves it at one match. Despite him being the one most capable of abusing it, it is often casually implied he is the strongest there is after all. Nobody comes close, even steroid Squares.

Possessed Klug loses one after the other, it's just Sig and Raffina bolt out of there before he can get up and rechallenge them. And maybe PKlug could have another go if Amitie didn't go:

He is brought down on his knees 3 times though. But that could mean anything.

I think Lemres reached more than his limit after all of the Fever 2 Waku Waku Courses because he's absolutely wrecked. He Puyo'd too much in the sun.

The Squares gauntlet is more about trying to de-escalate him than actually fighting Squares. But also demonstrates the BS "that didn't count" thing to its logical extreme. Satan could be that if he wanted too, but unlike Squares he isn't attempting to do something evil.

Only about 5 or 6 matches Squares partakes in are actually serious. He is successfully convinced he did a bad eventually, and the final few matches aren't antagonistic as a result.

Honestly, now that I think about it. The fact losers are kinda drained by a losing a Puyo match, and Squares almost exploding because he had too much power, would imply the final battle, a skill battle, is everyone Puyo-ing him at once to curb his powerful tummy ache. (I mean that's always stated, just I have more clarity now I think.)

Besides maybe Tee I think everyone else just doesn't rematch after a loss. They are consistent about this.

I'm not into power scaling persé, I don't like rating things like that and deciding who or what is only worth my time. That's reductive and dumb taking things with personalities, experiences, stories, and lore into account especially.

But I think it says something about these strong characters that's more than "Satan could beat Goku".

Ecolo and Satan, the two most recurring ones that can pull the "That didn't count" but usually don't tells us a lot about them.

That and as I said I find it funny. This is like so funny, flies in the face of logic. The more you lose in quick succession the stronger you are.

Also it's a Puzzle game, Satan may have the highest AI, but that still put him on equal grounds with Onion Pixie.

#puyo puyo #power scaling #satan #dark prince #ecolo #doppelganger arle #lemres #possessed klug #strange klug #ex #rafisol #marle #squares

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pilot-boi · 1 year

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I now have a plotbunny running around my brain about a pre-Vol 1 Jaune slowly making his way to Vale and finding a lost little girl who latches onto him and begs him to take her with him.

He thinks he reminds her of her uncle, or something.

She's sharp tongued, but always apologizes. She keeps thanking him, but always gets into trouble. She's woefully out of date on technology, but knows classic fairy tales.

She DOES know about Xray and Valve, but only second hand. Weird.

And one time, he asked her to pass him the soup from across the campfire and she dropped the whole pot and spent the whole night crying and apologizing while clinging to him.

He thinks she needs more help than he can provide, but theyre almost there. Almost to Vale. He can find a way to contact her family. He can help her more when he gets there.

He didn't expect her to follow him when he went to meet that contact outside of Vale to get those papers.

He didn't expect it all to turn so fast.

He also didn't expect a bird to atually turn into a Hunter, despite her stories, and now he's second guessing a lot of things.

But when "oh, you're the Drunkle" asks what they're doing out in the Vale woodlands, she speaks before he can.

"We're off to see the Wizard of Oz, of course. I'm the Girl who Fell Through the World, and this is the Rusted Knight"

What.

Next thing he knows, he's in the office of Headmaster Ozpin, sheepishly explaining himself.

She looks Ozpin and asks him "are you really a Compulsive Liar with Trust Issues, a crazy Ex, and a really bad hand in life?" And suddenly Ozpin is choking on coffee.

"Why told you that?" "Jaune did."

HE MOST CERTAINLY HAD NOT.

"Not yet, no"

WHAT DID THAT MEAN?!?!?!

But Ozpin is looking at him speculativly, and She's not meeting his eyes, but reaching into her bag and pulling out..... a cabbage?

But the cabbage unfolds, and inside is..... a small bunny with nubs on its head?

It opens its adorable little eyes, sees him, and promptly launches itself at his face with a desperation he'd only seen in farm dogs that had been left alone for a weekend.

And as he catches JUNIPER something clicks.

Many things are lost, and others are gained.

He looks down at ALYX, and gently wipes her tears, shush-ing her apologies, and giving her a hug.

Jaune looks the Headmaster in the eye and says to him: "Tell me Oz, what's your least favorite fairy tale?"

"Oh, and you wanna mess with your Ex-Wife's plans ?"

This is a FANTASTIC fucking plot bunny, incidentally, featuring a literal plot bunny

Please please please expand on this I need more lore I need to know more

#rwby #jaune arc #alyx #juniper #professor ozpin #mine #asks #anonymous #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 9 #plotbunny au

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digitalinsanity111 · 1 year

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Mikasa x f/reader <3

[nsfw!!, switch y/n, ✂️ing🤭]

(aot college AU)

some lore----

You and mikasa were dorm-mates, you and her were both in your freshmen year of college. You'd known her since the start of freshmen year in highschool, so i guess you considered your self lucky to still have her end up sticking around. You won't lie, you've always had a huge crush on her. She had always been so dominant and independent, something about her gaze had always sent you butterflies making your knees feel week.

"Are you going to that party tonight?" you questioned. "Huh?...what party?" mikasa said in response. "The one that Eren and connie are throwing". Mikasa had a confused expression "What? oh well no then. i'd rather just stay here, plus I'm sure eren will just be fucking sluts in the bathroom the whole time". You were only planning to go if she was as well. "Oh alright, then i'll just stay here with you". - "Are you sure? if you really want to go i'll just come with you i guess..". Your face started to feel a bit hot when she said that, you aren't sure why, but maybe it was just the thought that maybe she said it because she wanted to protect you. She had always came with you to the dumb college party's you always wanted to go to, because she knew that when you got high or drunk you couldn't handle your self. "O-oh no! it's ok! i kinda..i kinda want to just stay here anyways." You had finished up the last bits of your work for the semester the day previous, so you had time to blow off.

"..." It was getting too silent, you always hated the awkward silence that would distance between the two of you. "So uh.. well what are you up to now then?" you asked, trying to fill the awkward gap. "Nothing, i'll probably just relax. You should too, i think you've been working hard." Did she really care? it made your heart flutter, it's corny but almost everything she did managed to fluster you in some way. "oh yeah uh..maybe we could like watch Netflix or something." This was your chance to spend time with her alone, it felt like forever since the two of you had actually gotten to be alone together since both of you were always busy with completing work for the semester. Mikasa looked to the side, wearing that almost expressionless face as usual "Sure." You got on the bed where Mikasa was sitting. Before getting under the covers, you grabbed the LED remote and flipped it to red, it was the only color that was actually relaxing for you. It was dark, but still light enough that you could make out all of her beautiful features. Mikasa switched through the selections and genres of shows and movies to watch until she gave up and found something random to put on. You situated your self, scooting a bit closer to her. Your arm basically kissing hers. "i miss nights like these." you said trying to start a meaningful conversation. "..me too." she shot in reply. "i wish that we could do this all the time, I've really missed you lately. it feels like we never get to be alone with eachother anymore." Mikasa's face flushed a light shade of pink, but the red glow of the lights made it impossible for you to see. It was starting to get too quiet again. "so.. i-" mikasa cut you off, pulling you into her embrace. It was so quick, yet she was still so gentle with you. you gave into her warmth and returned her affection. "M-mikasa?..." you blurted out her name, if she could see how red your face was right now you'd definitely be embarrassed. She lightly finger brushed the pieces of your hair, still remaining silent. Mikasa pulled away "..im sorry, i don't know what that was, i just felt like i wanted to do it." Your eyes bored into hers. Without even thinking, your lips found their way to her soft ones. Mikasa froze still for a second before pulling away slightly, then pushing her lips against yours, mouths interlocking. You swear it felt like butterflies were dancing in your stomach, it felt so right. Her tongue meeting with yours as you held one hand to her cheek. A string of shared saliva connected from both of your lips when you finally pulled away for a breath. Panting slightly, Mikasa pushed you over onto the bed. "M-mikasa...i..." you didn't know what to say, your head felt empty as you tried to process if this was actually happening right now. Before you could speak another word, she pressed her body against yours, her knee digging up into your sensitive heat. she trailed kisses along the side of your jawline, to your neck and collar bone, gently pushing up your shirt to continue the process. She resumed to pressing more gentle kisses down your stomach,your abdomen tensed up. She continued kissing down, stopping at the waist band of your sweat pants. You stopped breathing for what felt like a minute, trying to hold back your voice from escaping. "..Can i continue?" she waited patiently for your reply. Was this real? was this really about to happen? questions filled your head, cutting them off you responded "yes...i want you to..". Mikasa swiftly and slowly pulled down the soft fabric, her face flushing a deeper shade of pink when she saw the wet spot on your grey panties. She pressed her thumb into the spot simply out of curiosity of your reaction. "H-ha m-mikasa..feels good.." she released the pressure and came back up to eye level. "Can i..c-can i remove your shirt?" You flushed, "yeah..that's ok with me" You had never heard her voice like that before, the tone of her words sounded so desperate. Mikasa reached her hands up your shirt rubbing upward your stomach, cueing for you to lift your arms.

You complied, raising your arms as she slid the shirt off of you. Your ears burned hot, you could feel her eyes hungrily examining your uncovered body. She traced her hands down your bra to your ribcage, hands stopping at the sides of your waist. She kneeled down, lowering herself to lick at your upper stomach. You winced at the sensation of her saliva meeting your bare skin. She pressed sensual kisses down your body, stopping right between your thighs. The wet spot noticeably larger than before, she wrapped her arms around your plush thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into the soft warm flesh. "i...i want it mikasa .. please~" The way you spoke made her whole body shiver inside even if she didn't physically show it. She kissed your heat, humming lightly enough for you to feel the vibrations against you. "a-ah!" you cried, from the unexperienced feeling. Mikasa licked over the thin cloth of your cotton panties, it was warm. The heat from her breath making the feeling amplify. You were definitely reaching your limit, or so you thought. Mikasa stopped, "huh w-why'd you stop?" you whined. She lifted up, "would you help me?.." she lifted her arms. Dazedly, you sat up to assist her in taking off her shirt. You trailed your hands up her shirt, feeling over the warm supple surface of her skin before removing it fully. She took off her shorts, leaving the both of you in your undergarments. Both Leaning in closer on your knees, your lips intertwined, breathless pants of desperation leaving your mouth as you yearned for more of her touch. Her leg slipping in between yours as she yet again pushed you onto your back. This time it was more lustful, she interlocked her hands with yours, keeping them from moving. Under her you felt small, she was so possessive, it made you feel safe. Kissing, then sucking into your neck leaving marks. you moaned yearningly, you wanted more of her, it felt selfish but you wanted all of her. She lifted one of your legs over her shoulder, pressing her heat into yours. The sensation of both of your sensitive bits touching together was enough to drive you up the wall. You let out a lustful sigh from how long you had been holding your breath. Your breathing hitched when she stared to slowly move herself against you. You could feel her arousal seeping through the fabric of her panties onto yours. It was hot. Mikasa let her voice out "ahah~ fuck!" Your hips rolled against her, rubbing into her most sensitive areas. Head empty, you couldn't even manage to process a thought, the feeling was overwhelming. She continued thrusting her body into yours, your panties were definitely soaked with both the fluids from you and hers. The sensation was warm and made you feel fuzzy. The feeling burned a hole into your mind as you reached for her hand. "P-please~ *huff* hold my hand" and she did. You involuntary shivered at the feeling, uncontrollably thrusting against her warmth. It felt good, you couldn't put it into words. Her legs trembled as she felt her climax building a knot in her stomach. You felt like you would die if you didn't get a release, you squeezed her hand tightly as you both matched paces. Each Reaching your climax, you cried out, using the other hand to muffle your lewd noises "mmffh~". Mikasa rode out her high with you, softly thrusting hips against one another. It still felt good, the vulgar noises coming from where your bodies connected were so enticing . She panted, loosing her grip on your thigh. Mikasa placed your leg down before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. Your fucked out expression was one that she would never forget. She laid next to you tiredly, gripping gently at your waist and burying her head into the crevice of your neck, pressing soft pecks to your neck. Falling asleep like this was now your favorite way to spend your days off.

Ty for reading!! i hope you enjoyed and lmk what i can better 😩🙏 i rlly enjoyed writing this one tho bc AHHH I LOVE HER SM😭

#mikasa x y/n #aot x reader #mikasa smut #mikasa x female reader #college roommates #aot smut #mikasa akerman

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adobe-outdesign · 1 year

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Have you reviewed the nacli line yet???

(This is a rollover review from yesterday; any new asks will be answered tomorrow.)

When we first heard about Nacli (great name) through leaks, I thought that a salt Pokemon was one of the more interesting concepts mentioned. It was definitely a concept that hasn’t been explored yet, and the natural square shape of the mineral could lend itself to some interesting visuals.

Nacli’s about what I was picturing in my mind from the original leaks, and I have to say, I do like it. The mushroom shape is inherently appealing, contrasting the very square chunks of salt with a more naturalistic sedimentary bedrock layer. It also lends itself to some interesting top-down symmetry, with the body mirrored by the chunk of salt at the top. It’s simple and instantly appealing.

The colors are also very nice; the brown makes sense for a rock-type and compliments the whites in the design nicely, while the orange makes the eyes pop.

I will say that said eyes are the only part of the design that throw me a bit, just because they seem to be hollow, and can also change color. Granted, I guess it’s not any less strange than Geodude just straight-up sporting human eyes, but I would’ve at least liked a lore explanation as to what’s going on there. Everything else about the design is pretty perfect.

One thing I like a lot about this line is the way it evolves. Instead of evolving in a very linear way and sticking to one body shape, it instead “rearranges” as it evolves, going from a mushroom-like shape to a quadruped to a biped. It makes sense (as rock doesn’t have one specific shape it has to take), and makes it so the middle evo is its own thing, fitting between the other two but a worthwhile Pokemon in its own right.

For Naclstack here, I like how the palette has been expanded on to include darker shades of brown while still being monotone, which keeps the line looking cohesive while adding a good deal of contrast. The head being white helps draw the eye to it despite the otherwise relatively complex design, while the square head and legs mirror each other.

I think my only problem with this design is that I feel like it’s maybe a bit too blocky; there’s still some bedrock present, but only at the back. I feel like the brown chunk that forms the body could’ve still been all bedrock (as I don’t know why salt would be brown anyway), to give it the same texture contrast that Nacli has going for it. That would also make it so the head and chest would be similar to an upside-down Nacli, which would be a nice visual nod.

Also, the legs float, which is a bit odd.

Garganacl is akin to a golem, and follows in the proud Pokemon tradition of “big weird hulking third-stage rock-type”. It feels suitably powerful compared to its pre-evos, and as mentioned before, the body shape changing each time prevents it from looking too similar to either Nacli or Naclstack.

This might be weird to say, but I’m going for it anyway: I love the way this thing’s limbs look. Going from the super dark brown in the middle of the body and then gradient-ing out to light brown and white just looks super pretty, and helps focus the eye towards the middle of the design. The chunky three-fingered hands are also delightful, as are the nice mineral sparkles sprinkled into the bedrock layers.

What I’m not as big on is the upper body. I feel like the “shoulder pads” are just WAY too huge; they completely dwarf the head, to the point where it’s kind of hard to even figure out what’s going on with the face. The middle piece of salt on the top of the head also feels extraneous and only adds to the problem. I guess it’s just there to mimic Nacli’s similar head block, but Naclstack doesn’t have it anyway. I don’t mind it having the shoulders in the first place; I just would’ve liked to see them dropped down like 40%. If you did that and made the head dark brown—maybe even remove that white waist piece in favor of more brown—you’d have a clear focus on the core of the body and the head, and the design would be much easier to read as well. It’s still very good; it just could’ve been stronger.

As a side note: I love how Garganacl’s salt is used to heal wounds. Not only does it work as a play on “rubbing salt in one’s wounds”, it also works as a pun on the word cure (which means both to heal something and to preserve meat with salt). Absolutely brilliant writing right there.

Anyway, overall, a strong line. The concept is unique, the colors are incredibly pleasing, each stage has something going for it, and there’s interesting textural contrast in the design that you don’t see often with Pokemon. The only thing holding it back is Garganacl’s shoulders and head, which get to be a bit hard to read; otherwise, it’s quite nice.

#nacli #naclstack #garganacl #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon reviews

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