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generalsdiary · 3 days

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there is no rain without clouds

rain deity!Dr. Ratio x nonbeliever human!Aventurine

warnings: kissing (?)

word count: 6.5k

a/n: the intro will be the og post reframed- jump to keep reading to get to the added writing, one cannot escape Ratio being tsundere wherever you go (it’s literally canon), not beta read Firefly you better come home

description: an au, sorta soulmate vibe of a rain deity Ratio and human Aventurine falling in love (with an alternative ending), a smidge of angst; mostly fluff

What if Ratio is a type of deity with control over the rain/sky and Aventurine is a nonbeliever except for his immense luck given by the Mother Gaiathra Triclops.

And what if every time before it rains, he feels a drop on his shoulder or person much earlier than the rainfall actually begins- like a warning to seek shelter. And when he realizes that others don't notice the rain that early on, he feels somewhat special.

And on one day he is walking below a gray sky and a drop, tiny, smaller than any other, falls on his lips. And he smirks to himself and says to the sky, why do you kiss me in the form of rain?, he wipes it off with his thumb like there's an intimacy between him and the oncoming rain, a lingering feeling on his lips. A minute passes and another tiny drop falls to his nose, he assumes the rain will fall down any second now.

But in all actuality, the deity of rain, Veritas, is blushed and looking away, frozen, not making the rain fall because he is shocked and flustered from being called out on his very obvious bias.

And what if when he swims in a body of water, Aventurine feels light and free, comforted by the waves of the sea or the current of a river. But almost every time he is swimming the rain starts to fall. It is a gentle, soft one and he feels even more in tune with himself. Like he is being hugged, held. Veritas can't help but be obvious with his preferences in every universe.

Ratio would curse the deity of the sea, because why doesn't he hold those powers so he may feel Aventurine in his embrace, he'd beg the nymph of the river to take their place for a moment only to be denied. So he caresses him in the form of rain, from which Aventurine seeks cover. He curses the sage of the wind, because why can't he dance across the blond's skin, feeling the softness of his cheeks. Cursed to bring rain. Bold to make a drop fall on his lips, and now have his feelings revealed.

It won't rain for days, he is hiding, out of fear of being rejected, ignored... Vulnerable.

So when the rain does fall, weeks later, the great deity of rain is on his knees in the sky upon the sight of Aventurine sitting down on the ground in the downpour with a smile on his face.

“I am not.”

“I want to kiss you, hold you, hug you, have you- just-” he sighs, “and I know love and relationships can be much more than physical-“Aventurine exhales, looking up to the sky, his voice turning lower, “Why do you touch me like this?... Why does the water make me imagine your lips in their place- when I have never even seen you, why is it your hand which I wish to hold when I feel raindrops on mine... Why do you caress me,... Why do you touch me- it feels so personal every goddamn time and so… teasing.” When the skies bring no answer except the soft occasional raindrop, he turns and goes back inside.

About a week later the rain came again. Aventurine is standing behind a casino, catching a break from the heavy air inside. Veritas decides this is the right moment, the rainfall shifting to act as a waterfall and merely showcase an invisible silhouette like a ghostly figure, creating his shape.

“It is not easy to take a physical form.” There's no sound, Aventurine cannot hear his voice with his ears, but with his mind. His eyes widen upon seeing the elemental shape, he walks closer. This is the confirmation of everything- he isn't insane- well, that's still debatable, for some reason he doesn't feel shocked, surprised would be the better word. Aventurine reaches out with his hand, fingers moving through the rain which shapes a cheek. It is just water. Feels less real than the same drops that warn him. “I don't think you can call this a physical form.”

“Why me?”

“Indeed, why you?”

“I do not have to.” With a small wave of his hand, a larger raindrop falls on Aventurine's bottom lip, making him close his eyes. It isn't just the water, it gives him this feeling, this image of being kissed- of lips pressing into his own.

Aventurine ponders, a rain person, and his shape- it is a tall shape that much he can conclude.

“I wish to see you partake a physical form.”

“I can feel you, through the water- don't you wish to do it yourself?”

The elemental shape is quiet. “Things are more complicated than you know, Aventurine.”

Aventurine raises his eyebrows in small surprise from hearing his own name, “Introductions are due?”

“You know my name.”

“How could I possibly know your name, Veritas?” There it is. He stops, shocked, how do I know that name?

“Did you really think I'd make droplets fall to your lips without leaving my name there? It would've been rude.”

“This feels right- but I know it is wrong- I don't know anything about you.”

“Yes, you do, you just need to think- we have been communicating this whole time.” Within a blink of an eye he leaves, nothing left behind to mark his existence.

The facts list on in Aventurine's mind like pretty organized bullet points, Veritas is a rain deity, cold in nature, knowledgeable, etc.- and the list turns into... Memories? Or perhaps future memories; his mind fills with images, a fact of Veritas' dark blue hair showcased by Aventurine pulling his fingers through it, the high cheekbones shown with his lips on it... Aventurine feels dizzy, leaning back onto the wall of the building for support. What is this? It feels like he left a list, he wouldn't leave the second part as is. What is going on?

Veritas’ eyebrows furrow whilst observing the human. Why is he stumbling over a list- I didn't leave anything of such a mark on it. He didn't drink... Is he feeling ill? He moves past his worry when Aventurine goes inside.

III

One could ask the rain deity when it began, and how it started, this is what he would say.

„Darling… you ask a difficult question,“ Veritas says softly. His gaze shifts lower, and with soft eyes and a small smile he continues, „Allow me to quote a book…I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.“

With a sharp inhale Aventurine wakes up from the dream. He cannot remember what the man looked like and his voice is even fading from his memory. What was this dream- it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt like a memory that hadn’t happened yet. The dizziness he knows from the first time is there again. Luckily he is still lying in bed. From all the given information, he concludes this isn’t the doing of the deity… Veritas. This is something else entirely, frightening and eerie.

Aventurine is now aware of the rain deity, and his strange preference… and whatever they have together. Opening his phone he checks the weather forecast- it will rain. When leaving the apartment building, he leaves his umbrella by the door on purpose.

Aventurine ponders his…memories, visions? under the warm water of the shower head. They feel amazing and real and genuine- and overwhelming, exposing. Why is he seeing them- feeling them… living them?

Going about his day and obligations to the IPC, Aventurine ultimately forgets about today’s forecast until he feels the soft raindrop on his hand. It feels like putting on noise-canceling headphones, everything quiets down and slows down for him. He can feel the lingering touch, “Why don’t you hold my hand yourself?” Aventurine decides to call Veritas out early on; he has grown used to the water hitting his shoulder or shoes, and the rain deity is getting bolder by the day.

Out of the gambler’s sight, Veritas has his hand over his mouth, dumbfounded and astounded at the younger man’s forwardness. The second raindrop meaning to hit Aventurine’s shoe misses and falls beside him- out of pure lack of focus from Veritas, once again frozen and… one would dare say blushed. Much like the previous time the rain falters and falls later than the deity originally planned. Veritas can only observe from the sky as Aventurine smirks and walks cheerfully along; the happy feeling he has clears the sky of its clouds.

When Aventurine decides to go home, he is met with gentle rain outside. He somewhat regrets leaving his umbrella at home. The knowledge of how this communication works puzzles him, for a moment it is there and for a moment it isn’t. He speaks aloud, “Must we dance around like giggling teenagers? I will warn you, I am not a patient man. especially when teased like this.” He regrets saying the last sentence as soon as it leaves his mouth, I am so fucking touch deprived, I should keep my mouth shut.

The same elemental shape, that even if anyone saw would brush it off as nothing, shows up and walks beside Aventurine. “No umbrella?”

This is his moment, he will go all out. It is all or nothing. “I wanted to feel you on my skin.”

Unfortunately for him, Veritas came prepared, “Why don’t you walk naked then?” he asked with a snicker in his soundless tone.

Aventurine tilts his head, “Good one… maybe I should.” He teases, turning his head to look at the shape beside him.

Fortunately for him, Veritas isn’t that well prepared. With a silent cough, he quickly tries to think of something. “You could get ill.”

Aventurine stops in his steps, “Then take a physical form. I may then relish in your warmth” he pretentiously declares.

“Is this really something you want?” Veritas softly asks, or at least it seems soft in Aventurine’s mind. Another memory fills his sight and overwhelms him; his hand on the man’s cheek, breaths mingling- standing together- he can almost make out his eye color, the one of dawn? He can feel the warmth radiating from Veritas’ skin, the frequent how does he know it is frequent? blush in the man’s cheeks warm under his fingertips… Light-headed again. Aventurine blinks a few times, stabilizing in the present again.

There it was again, he almost fainted. Is he alright? “Are you okay? You seem unwell.” Veritas mumbles.

“I’m fine, don’t stress about it” Another typical hand wave from the blond. “Yes, I- I’m sorry, I..” The dizzy feeling threw him off his game, “Can we continue this conversation another time, I have to get home.”

Of course, the rain deity leaves silently.

Veritas is a deity who loves rationalization, thereby he is confused as to why he is so drawn to the human, so defensive over him. What made him make an actual move after a couple of years of silent appreciation passed? It would’ve not been an actual move hadn’t Aventurine called him out on it. Veritas feels like he knows him, like he knew him before… well, before anything he knows at this moment. Like they knew each other elsewhere, spent time together. Why must there be history here and now; to justify his feelings? It is not a crime to love what you cannot explain. I am one with the water and it too flows through me as do the affections I feel.

What can you expect from a gambler than to gamble? And this one uses his life as a chip.

Aventurine exits the worn-down building, made of brown moss-covered bricks, through the side door into an empty alley. A dead end one. He had fun, getting all the hard-earned and well-needed information from the players at the poker table and quite a bit of money.

One of the men followed him out, asking for another round, which Aventurine dismissed with a wave of his hand. They chat along, the man making different suggestions regarding other gambling businesses and potential scams.

“As intrigued as I might be, I prefer to work alone- and, you know, stick to what I know,” Aventurine says with a thousand credit smile.

“Yeah, yeah, understandable- but listen I got this gig- you will love it, it is made for you…” The man’s tone suggests hidden intentions, his body betraying him- the shaky hands, his eyes jumping all over the place… Maybe it is due to the strong smell of cigars and heavy alcohol that clouds Aventurine’s perception, or perhaps the few drinks he had (he isn’t actually drunk, not even tipsy), maybe he is tired or maybe he is just feeling so cocky at that moment that he doesn’t notice the imminent threat.

The rain knows, he- Veritas knows. He recognized the man’s intentions early on and tried to warn Aventurine, to no effect. The time ran out, the man gnarling his teeth and hitting Aventurine’s head, making him lose consciousness and fall limp on the concrete. A heavy downpour with sharp raindrops starts, and those sharp ones of course avoid the blond’s body. As if someone emptied a bucket of water, a curtain forms between Aventurine and the man. He appears surprised, but it doesn’t stop him from taking a step forward before a flash of lightning spooks him for a second. The lightning flash blinds him for another moment, Veritas tries his best to protect the young gambler, but it will not be enough and he knows it. Another flash of white and the curtain of heavy water normalizes, the man’s vision clearing up to see a tall man standing menacingly before him, practically towering above him. He has dark violet hair which is dripping with water, long dark indigo, and blue robes that flow to the ground, and a white shirt that is sticking to his torso. The arm which isn’t under the cover of the robes reveals a well-defined muscular shape. It is strange, the way the tall man appears to be soaked and completely dry at the same time. The water sliding off of his robes like off of a duck’s back, meanwhile, his shirt is stained and his hair drenched. There is power in his presence, the unnatural way he appeared already sent fear down the other man’s spine. Veritas raises his head, the sharp amber dawn-like eyes flashing a light blue when he in a deep voice with a sharp tone commands, “Leave.”

A heavy raindrop falls onto his shoulders, the prior blue sky turning a silvery shade of gray, almost purple. He knows this, what it means, even in his mind he disregards it, waving his hand around; seek shelter, yeah, yeah, it will rain. I’ll live. The conversation continues and a few more heavy raindrops fall onto his frame, unusual. The overblown self-confidence makes him ignore it, ignore the obvious warnings he doesn’t even see. It’s just rain, nothing more. It was never used for anything else except for a sign it would rain. Well except that one time…

Aventurine keeps talking, more raindrops fall- showing the rain is getting impatient, he even feels annoyed with the way it only keeps falling on him and not in the general area.

The man scours away in a blink of an eye. Veritas doesn’t turn back to look at Aventurine, he can hear him inhaling sharply and he disintegrates with the rain, leaving as quickly as he came.

When Aventurine comes to, there’s an ache in his head and his clothes are wet. He is disoriented, confused as to where the man left. His eyes drift to his jewelry and his personal belongings- all safe, all still here. He frowns. What happened? Slowly he stands on his feet, walking away to get a cab. While he stands in the heavy rain he ponders what went on. Was he really warned? It isn’t real, it can’t be real. Rain is just rain. And after all, he is a deity, why would he trouble himself over a mortal? Aventurine enters the vehicle and goes home.

With a yellow soft towel, he is patting his hair dry and looking out the window to the white sky. That man would not leave without robbing him or beating him up, he should’ve been more careful. A deity wouldn’t help. Why would they? They never did in the past.

Despite his thoughts, he doesn’t yell at the sky for explanations or behave like an angry toddler. For some reason, there is a certain amount of respect there. He can’t find it in him to converse in a rude way, even when he doesn’t believe in any of it. At the end of the day, it is just rain, and it isn’t anything special. Aventurine simply writes it off to his luck.

Veritas isn’t observing him at this moment. He lets the rain fall heavily down, not caring for it. How dare he be so careless with his life? He scoffs to himself, arms crossed and pacing around. Veritas feels angry and the masked emotion washes off of the rain deity to reveal the worried god underneath it. Thus, when Aventurine walks out on the balcony to grab a jacket left there before the weather changes, a raindrop falls on his cheek caressing it as if to say, don’t do that again.

And it is those simple, intimate moments where Aventurine feels like he is going crazy. How could he possibly explain all of it- or any of it? He felt water on his lips before so why did it that day feel like a kiss? A kiss he wants more of… why did this drop on his cheek feel comforting? No, he is losing it. I am not falling for rain- I cannot ‘fall in love’ with rain, what is going on? The rain stops and he finds himself drawing his fingers to the lingering drops on the outer side of his balcony door. If it isn’t real, why does this feel… like that? Cold droplets turning warm under his fingers, he sighs and leans his forehead on the glass door. Would the rain be able to hug? Maybe I’m just touch deprived… with that he goes back inside and ends his day.

“… if you’ll let me.” Veritas notices the way Aventurine wavers, losing balance as his eyes turn back into focus. “You worry me.” He whispers.

Aventurine is standing under a red umbrella and conversing with Veritas. Both gravitate to each other with slight confusion as to why it feels right- good. They are trying to have a normal conversation, and sort of get to know each other, yet the more they talk the more they realize that they already do know each other.

“I could show you so much, my favorite places; food, music…” Veritas’ voice fades off in Aventurine’s ears- another one of his visions…before the sound switches to normal inside this memory. “I will show you so much, my favorite places; food, music, art, culture- history of the world,” Veritas utters the sentence between kisses he places on Aventurine’s knuckles, looking up at him with a smile. Aventurine laughs, “And I will show you how to have fun- you will learn poker and so many fun, fun games and how to dance-“, Veritas jumps in, “I do know how to dance, and I am incredibly clever I will pick up poker easily for you, my love.” In a cloud of smoke, he loses focus and falls back into reality.

The hand wave every time, “It is jamais vu* from what I managed to find out.”

“From my knowledge, that doesn’t cause dizziness.”

“It is often related to migraines”

“You are not experiencing migraines.”

“How would you know my lack of pain?”

A sigh, “The same way you know things about me.” Veritas prettily forms the sentence to avoid the question he has no answer to. He simply knows, how could he not know?

Aventurine tries not to think about the intimate scenes the memories show him, he doesn’t want to spiral down the rabbit hole. And when he does try to recall how Veritas looked in them, it melts away from his mind like chocolate in the summer sun. The memory stays, with the visual and audible facts fading if he focuses on them too hard. He isn’t allowed to see them yet, is what he believes. The touch, the warmth- that doesn’t go away, it stays, lingering like the raindrops on his fingertips. It feels exactly like Veritas.

An hour later, Aventurine is back at his home, he takes off his jacket- staying in a white button-up shirt. He walks over to the glass doors to the balcony, sliding them open and his fingers drift to the unmoving raindrops on the glass, it takes his full attention… giving him comfort and he closes his eyes, turning the tables as to who is touching who through the raindrops.

Weeks pass with them having conversations and confused thoughts, shifting between yearning, flirting, and curiosity. The air around them stops for a millisecond when Aventurine makes a suggestion, “I want to show you my apartment.” He expressed with a smile, with no ulterior motive, but to show a more private part of himself which is his home. The elemental form, expressionless as ever is silent.

“I am certain you’ve noticed we only converse while it is raining and I take this shape, how would I go inside as this?” Veritas makes an excuse.

“Come in through the balcony- you can stay there if you must drip like that- but there is a way, don’t play dumb with me, oh great rain deity~” He flails his arms about and rolls his eyes with a big smile while he teases Veritas.

The shape disappears due to Veritas losing his concentration and falling to his knees once more from the teasing use of his title.

In his waterfall shape, Veritas appears in front of Aventurine- the gambler didn’t even have to call him, he felt his touch. What a strange feeling…

He stands still as ever, no emotion readable off of his figure, no voice able to be heard. He felt the… teasing way the phantom touch is, and felt a tad impatient- he would have great use of a few breathing exercises at that moment. To reframe his thoughts and ground- instead, he is on the balcony, in a distant form, as he said he would be.

“Why?” Aventurine asks.

“Ah, Veritas. You came! Allow me to show you my home~” Aventurine cheerfully exclaims and steps backward into the apartment, “Unless you plan on bringing the water inside- in which case you can observe through the glass…” Aventurine’s voice fades off exactly when the elemental shape shifts and Veritas takes his actual physical form, taking a step forward into the building, towards Aventurine. His eyes are the colors of dawn… The tall, attractive man steps closer until Aventurine’s back meets the wall behind him. Memories become clearer- the indigo hair, the dark blue robes, the deep baritone voice that soothes his ears- “Is this the form you wished so hard to see?” Veritas tilts his head and raises his eyebrows.

Aventurine is speechless upon the sight of a literal god in front of him. He did expect him to look good, he is attracted to him, but oh dear gods, this is… wow. Why is he standing so close? Aventurine can feel the change in the room’s temperature, turning slightly warmer.

“…yes…uhm, it is good you… changed and now you can get a tour of the place.” It took Aventurine a few moments before he softly answered. His eyes shift around, surprised by the moment, despite it all, his thoughts calmed down since Veritas is physically here. Aventurine feels at peace, safe, and content. Until his eyes fall to Veritas’ lips and everything is out of the window, his head filling with thoughts of how it would feel to actually kiss him. Their breaths are mingling, why is he standing so close? he barely notices his hand moving the Veritas’ side to pull him even closer. The air feels heavy, filled with electricity and the scent of another man which is entirely new, but then again it is a scent he knows all too well from his memories- focus allowing only now to remember it clearly.

To Aventurine’s surprise, he isn’t the only one feeling like this. He watches Veritas summon a raindrop between his fingers and drop it onto his bottom lip. Veritas eyes trained on the way it falls, then closing them relishing in the feeling. It also makes Aventurine close his eyes, and he holds on to not just crash his lips against his.

“I… don’t know,” Veritas admits.

With the droplet still on his bottom lip, Aventurine raises his chin and presses his lips onto Veritas’. The heavy air, frozen, flows again when they connect. Lips opening to get closer, hands hesitant and shaking to bring the other closer, fearing to not get overwhelmed, minds connecting to ask the same question, why does it feel so good… why does it feel right? Aventurine’s hands travel up, one rests on Veritas’ chest and the other one cups his cheek, it is as soft as he recalls. Veritas embraces Aventurine, his arms wrapping around the shorter man’s torso and pulling him closer. Clouds fill the sky and no rain falls. The moment is theirs and it is hidden. It felt like the built-up pressure in the atmosphere right before a storm, was released. The tension loosens up when they finally feel each other’s touch and not through water.

When the kiss ends Aventurine’s head fills with questions such as, how dare he gatekeep this form- why?

Veritas, still close, quietly points out an observation, “Your eyes glow in the dim light.”

“So do yours.” Silence. They spend the next few minutes staring into each other’s eyes, Veritas is the one to break the silence and ask for a tour of the place that was promised.

“You will outlive me. I will die. I am…” he sighs, “just a human. I have, what, maybe 50 years left at best?”

They fit together like puzzle pieces, perfect in every way. Veritas takes his physical form much more often and spends most of his time beside Aventurine, going on walks, dinners, and spending simple time together. Veritas still sends the raindrops to his lips, embracing him through the rain. Their physical affection turns simpler and is shown through occasional lingering fingers and short-lived hand-holding. They find solace in each other’s company much more than anything else. It is another one of the simple days, both sitting on the couch, Aventurine is fidgeting with Veritas’ hands when he asks, “Are you immortal?”

“Hm… what a strange question. I am not immortal in the true sense of the word, I am meant to live forever- well as long as there is rain.” He explains in a gentle tone, causally watching the man caress his fingers.

“I will be by your side through every day then- and after, I will find a way, I will not leave you and you will not leave me- do not worry, dear gambler.”

Beat. Aventurine ever so slightly slumps, leaning back and looking up. “Are you sure?” he presses on in a shaky voice which he desperately tries to hide.

“I promise. I will do my best to make it happen.” Somewhat reassured by his words, Aventurine moves to rest his head on Veritas’ shoulder.

It can’t be all sunshine and rainbows- or in this case, clouds and rain. There’s turmoil happening inside the rain deity. Doubts fill him, guilt poisons his head, and self-consciousness traps him in a spiral of negative thoughts regarding his feelings and actions. He knows all emotions flow through him, water takes on any shape, and therefore at some point in time, it will take the shape of a whirlpool. The rain deity feels chained by his thoughts, trying to solve them- work them out, only for the bounds to get tighter. The days turn into weeks, the rain no longer warning Aventurine- he cannot focus, and the sky turns a shade of dark purple, calling thunder and lightning at times, it is loud, terrifying. Aventurine can’t help but worry, is someone punishing him? Every loud snap and whip sound burns his ears, Aventurine mumbles his name sometimes in distress- to no avail.

Months later, he stands on his balcony. Uninvited, he waits for Aventurine to return home. When he does, most part of the conversation is silent, Aventurine opens the door- sees him, and stares. Thoughts are exchanged without a sound, of Veritas’ pain and regrets, and of Aventurine’s anxiety. Am I even human anymore, why can I do this? He ignores that thought.

“Talk to me next time- let me help-“

“This isn’t something that would be safe to have you around for.”

“I agree, since when do you have control over the thunder and lightning?”

“I do not… When a deity, a sage, a nymph, or whichever being; goes through strong emotional turmoils- their power expands because they lose control over it. I apologize for making you worry.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“I cannot promise it won’t happen again.”

“I’ll make you promise” With furrowed eyebrows and a firm step he walks over, looking up at the rain deity with a frown. He shall put it in words even Veritas will understand, “Lack of your well-being leads to me not feeling good. If you care about me as much as I do about you, you will do better. I expect of you to do better- no better yet- I demand it.” Aventurine stands tall, chin raised and proud, putting a god in his place- equal to him, right by his side. His eyes focused on the man in front of him.

Veritas is weak, too weak to say no- to deny anything Aventurine may wish… He is the air I breathe, how could I ever reject him? His eyes scan his face, not a single tread of fear in the shorter man. Veritas nods, “I will have you near me, next time such a thing occurs. I promise.”

Aventurine’s shoulders relax, he nods to himself and steps back in, “Come inside, you’re cooking tonight.” Veritas politely follows with a shy smile on his face, his eyes looking down at where Aventurine’s fingers are pulling him and leading him inside.

VII

A century passes. Aventurine passed away years ago, and not a day nor night has gone by without Veritas building up his power to summon him here. Until he succeeded. A bright light blinds him, making him turn his head and look elsewhere in the plush, warm-toned clouds he was sitting in. Turning his head back he is met with a smiley Aventurine who immediately jumps and embraces Veritas- making him lie on his back.

“You did it- you actually did it! Took you long enough!” Through warm laughter he greets.

“It was no easy feat. It, indeed, took too long.” Veritas’ arms tighten around Aventurine’s frame, inhaling the scent of the perfume he missed so much, “I missed you- it feels so good to actually feel you- the human realm cannot convey the feeling of touch the way it does here.”

“It does feel different.” Aventurine props his elbow to look at the rain deity better.

“Now, it is a tad more complicated than I… originally explained. You are a… cloud deity now.”

Aventurine tilts his head and narrows his eyes, “A what now?” He laughs softly, “Aren’t you in control of that?”

Veritas slowly explains, “No, I am in control of the rain- and yes while clouds are water- they are not rain. By controlling the rain, I pull also the clouds indeed, but for example- I could never pull a cloud over a desert area where it won’t rain. Whereas, you can. Clouds are timeless and everywhere- you are free to manipulate them- all across the space and time.” He ends it with a smile, “There is no rain without clouds, my dear.”

The pieces all fall into space, their connection, his memories of the future- they have yet to happen right here in these clouds- he saw them happen, the way he felt less and less natural and more supernatural, the way they communicate- he knew Veritas wasn’t controlling that. It is also obvious that the rain deity did not plan for this, it is simply the way it all worked out. He provided them a… forever. The visions made so much sense now- clouds are timeless. It flows for him, time flows- he smiles and kisses Veritas’ cheek. “I knew this would- I- thank you, I am overjoyed to be here with you.”

All the memories become, soon enough, memories. Now, they spend their time almost always in some time of physical contact- hands never separating. They float around and smile at nature, Aventurine very excitedly leads Veritas through old games he had won, teaching him poker and blackjack, they laugh and enjoy this powerful life to the fullest.

On one of those countless days, Veritas takes him to the waterfall and the river, where he had previously begged the nymph to borrow their powers to hold him.

“Ah, Lord of the rain… and Lord of the clouds, what can I do for you today?” The nymph of the river smiles, their hair, the color of a cherry tree, flows with the wind, sending a scent of strawberries. The easygoing smile relaxes both men.

“We were passing by- how did you know about Aventurine?” Veritas is surprised, they do all know each other in the end- maybe it has something to do with his partner’s time-related affinities.

“It is written, the Lord of the rain will bring forth the Lord of the clouds. And no matter when he is brought forth, he shall be gifted the control of time so he has always been with us.” They say without a tremor in their voice like it is a well-known fact.

“I have not read this in the writing, Ro.” Veritas crosses his arms, mentally recalling every line in the very long text.

“You cannot know the lines which refer to you. Just as I didn’t know the ones that were related to me and my Lady of the Flower lotus.” Ro nods, the smile unmoving from their face, they seem at peace, content… happy. The beings of nature live pleasurable lives, and Aventurine feels fond of it.

“Wait- you have told me the previous time I was here that you loved a human and no one as well had borrowed you their powers to come closer- is this the same Lady? You didn’t tell me of this.” Veritas continues, Aventurine floats off to the familiar beach and jumps in the water, partaking in his old physical form. “I mean, I was aware of what was written… The nymph of the river will love the flower lotus.”

“Veritas, we have been over this, do not fret- enjoy the Lord of the clouds- and I shall go have tea with my Lady, it is late afternoon and I refuse to keep them waiting. I’d be more than happy to have you two join us, but I am afraid we won’t have enough biscuits for today- how does tomorrow sound?”

Veritas nods. “Enjoy your time, Ro. Tomorrow is fine.” Veritas leaps out of the clouds, taking his physical form as well and diving into the water. Aventurine is quick to swim over and put his arms on Veritas’ shoulders, “The water feels amazing, and you look good like this- we should go swimming more often~”

“Don’t belittle me, you just like the sight of me shirtless,” Veritas smirks, and Aventurine chuckles. Veritas moves his arms to his lower back.

“Mhm~ Yes I do, doctor” Aventurine moves closer to kiss him, there are drops of water on their lips and they mix along with the kiss, the sun shines brightly illuminating the water's surface and the wind blows over their shoulders. What a perfect world they got so lucky to exist in- together and in love.

VIII (alternative ending)

Aventurine’s eyes suddenly open, with a hollow chest and faster breathing than normal. He turns to his side to see Veritas already awake, his hand on Aventurine’s cheek wiping away… tears?

“Bad dream, darling?” He whispers.

“No- I… a lovely dream. I don’t know why I am crying…” He moves closer to Veritas, seeking his warmth, “You were a rain deity and I suppose the tears might be happy ones?... It feels like a beautiful world was ripped away from me… It was so real.”

“A rain deity? You truly have creative dreams…” Ratio pulls his head into his chest, hand in the blond locks soothing his partner. “You have me here, I am not going anywhere.” A soft kiss is placed on the crown of his head.

“I love you… thank you for being here. It was a nice dream, maybe somewhere utopian where it is all perfect and where we could be happy… it was a bit unrealistic but comforting. Although I could feel you were missing something, you also were human before you became a deity so perhaps you didn’t recall what drove you. Your motivation for knowledge and spreading it- I missed it in the dream.” Aventurine draws small circles on Veritas’ chest. The digital clock shows 3 am, they should go back to sleep.

“I love you too,” He whispers.

“When did you… when did you realize it? That you… ‘loved’?” Aventurine inquires, a sleepy mind asks strange questions.

“What a strenuous question…” Veritas answers softly, his eyes travel lower to meet the colorful ones of his partner, his own softening when they meet. With a small smile, he goes on, “To quote a wonderful writer; I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

Tiredly, Ratio nods and freezes once the words register in his head, “Mhm, yes, wait what- excuse me? That I will do what now?” The surprise is evident in his voice.

Aventurine’s eyes widen, dreams spill over into reality and every scene flashes before his eyes, he feels overwhelmed, his head running around with so many thoughts…

“I hope you will even in this reality kiss me in the form of rain.”

“Hush, go to sleep- I have an interview in the morning.” With a quiet grumble he listens to Aventurine and goes back to sleep.

a/n: s/o to J. Austen for being an amazing author; the quote is from the book called Pride and Prejudice, *jamais vu - a French loanword meaning "never seen", is the phenomenon of experiencing a situation that one recognizes in some fashion, but that nonetheless seems novel and unfamiliar

tags under:

@starfall-reef

#dr ratio #aventio #honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #ratiorine #dr ratio fluff #veritas ratio #aventurine fluff #angst #au #rain deity x human #golden ratio #raturine #rain deity x nonbeliever

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gyuswhore · 7 hours

Text

Never Shall We Die [teaser]

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool?

The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows.

Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: est. 30k | [teaser]: ~1k

RELEASE DATE: est. May 19th, 2024 - may change

‼️PLEASE SEND AN ASK OR REPLY TO THIS POST TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST (ageless blogs WILL NOT BE ADDED)‼️

masterlist

WARNINGS [!is subject to change upon publishing of the full fic!]: slowburn, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, smut tags to be added in the full fic

[AN]: hai i am back with another monstrosity 😃 biggest thank you to @highvern for brainstorming with me and beta-ing for me, this fic would not exist without her!!!!! im super excited for this to come out, its my best work yet and i hope you all like it too!!!!

teaser under the cut!

“Did your stupid father drop you on your head as a baby?”

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull.

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?”

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.”

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?”

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue.

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully; “What?”

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone else.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest.

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit.

Is he about to cut my hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt.

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long.

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level.

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?”

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.”

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard.

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope.

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.”

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion.

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.”

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed.

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused.

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour.

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it.

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?”

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evertidings · 14 hours

Note

hello! i was working on some fanart and i remembered that as a beginning artist I found the skin tone palette to be somewhat intimidating, because at the tine I didn't really know how things like undertones worked. therefore, I have created a "cheat sheet" of sorts that has a rendering for each skin tone (from my understanding of it) in neutral lighting so that people might be able to get a better understanding of what it could look like if they have trouble visualizing a rendering. attached below (with my own analysis and without)

feel free to ignore this if it's not something you'd want to publicize (for lack of a better word), and please please lmk if my understanding of the characters' skin tones is incorrect (I did adjust the saturation a bit to work better on my color profile, so it might be a little different?) I just figured someone might find it helpful :)

thank you!! i’m not an artist myself but even i recognize the palette might be difficult to work with—i just don’t have a good understanding of undertones and whatnot to add to it, so this is really helpful! i’ll link it under that post hehe <3

#ask

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charincharge · 2 days

Text

I Don't Want To Wait, seventy-one

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

TW: College admissions. Sorry if you’re going through this now! Also, I went through this a longgggggggg time ago, and I know this isn’t exactly how admissions works, so apologies for creative liberties. I was supposed to post this before Aelin's birthday, but I missed May 3. Just by two days, though, so not too shabby! Okay, lets go. Final stretch, my loves.

“What do you mean you don’t want to celebrate your birthday?” Rowan scoffed. “Ace, you love your birthday.”

Aelin stretched her arms overhead and reached to touch her toes, ignoring the way her boyfriend stared at her with his usual hawklike intensity and instead leaned into her shins, helping relieve the ache from sore and overworked muscles. Dance practices had been relentless on her body, especially with the spring showcase just a few weeks away, she seemed to be in perpetual knots always.

Well, she guessed she couldn’t just blame dance on that. She was having a hard time with everything at the moment. While her friends were smiling and laughing at their last few weeks of high school, Aelin was feeling an acute sense of panic. The weeks following spring break had melted away faster than she could process, gone in the blink of an eye, filled with an onslaught of dance practices and AP exam prep and constantly checking her inbox for that little email notification from Wendlyn. And not nearly enough Rowan, who was spending all his free time with his lacrosse team. Not only that but everyone around her seemed more excited than ever with the prospect of leaving Orynth right around the corner, but with each passing day the knot in her stomach grew tighter. Everything was a ~last~ —and she was having a hard time enjoying that. She didn’t want any of this to be her last. Why was everyone excited that time was moving so fast? Why couldn’t she just freeze right here in this moment. In this limbo things were stressful, but they were still fine. Without knowing what her fate held.

College acceptances had come rolling in, one by one, her friends grinning wildly as they opened their emails. But Aelin’s inbox remained woefully empty. So, she wanted her boyfriend to forgive her for not feeling particularly celebratory, but then again, she hadn’t discussed any of this with him for fear of making him feel guilty about it.

As she breathed into her next stretch, she turned her torso to look back at Rowan, who was still waiting patiently for her response.

“My birthday last year was a disaster,” Aelin finally replied, completely ignoring the real reason she was feeling less-than-enthused. “How quickly they forget.”

But Rowan just rolled his eyes. “That was an exception. I have a feeling that no one is going to get arrested or go to rehab this year. Usually your birthday is all you can talk about for months. Are you really telling me you haven’t planned anything? For your eighteenth birthday?” he asked. “It’s in less than a week.”

Aelin shrugged, leaning to the other side and groaning as she stretched out a particularly tender muscle.

“I just don’t want to do anything this year,” she said. “The spring dance show is in two weeks, and I’ve been practicing every night. So, for my birthday I just want the night off.” She paused. “Is that really so bad?”

“No…” Rowan said quietly, picking up his phone and furrowing his brow. She’d know that face anywhere. He looked concerned.

“What?” she snapped and immediately regretted it when she saw Rowan’s face. He didn’t deserve to be the receptacle of her stress or ire. All he wanted was to make sure she had the birthday she wanted. Her sweet, sweet Rowan. “Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I’m just…”

“Tired?” Rowan filled in, and she nodded and lifted her arms above her head, extending them out for him. He swooped in quickly and helped her to her feet, enveloping her in a warm and comforting embrace. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered into her hair, and she could feel her tension melting away with each one of his butterfly kisses.

Aelin finally looked up at him, and his worried green eyes were staring back down at her. “I’m so tired, Ro,” she admitted as she squeezed him against her tighter. “The idea of doing something big for my birthday just seems like so much work.”

“It’s just a big one,” he replied softly. “I don’t want you to regret not celebrating.”

“And I appreciate that,” she said, letting herself melt into his chest fully. His heartbeat helped center her, and she rued the day that she wouldn’t have it there for her at a moment’s notice. “But I just want to hang out with you, eat too much chocolate cake and maybe go to sleep early.”

“So I should tell Lorcan to cancel the surprise trip to the strip club?” Rowan asked. Aelin’s head shot up, and her boyfriend’s answering smirk was telling enough.

“You almost had me there,” she said.

“He tried,” Rowan laughed, “But I shut him down pretty quickly.”

“What kind of strip club are we talking about?” she asked, causing Rowan’s worried expression to disappear, as she intended. As Rowan explained how he had to talk Lorcan off the ledge, Aelin took out her phone and needlessly refreshed her phone over and over. But her inbox remained unchanged.

. . .

“Stay calm and vote Manon and Elide as queens for prom!” Dorian shouted while shoving a rainbow flyer into a passerby’s hands. “A vote for Manon and Elide is a vote against The Man!” he continued, causing Aelin to snort into one of the crown-adorned cupcakes Maeve had contributed to the cause. Dorian had taken it upon himself to run point for Manon and Elide’s prom queen campaign and had recruited Aelin to help him during their shared free period. Not that he needed the help. Orynth High had rallied around the pair of women, and there was no doubt as to who would sweep the vote, but it was still something that Aelin could do without that horrible nauseous feeling taking over her entire body – which might have been helped by the fact that Dorian was also still waiting for a college acceptance email, and so the pair of them were happy to use lifting up their friends as a distraction. Or at least use it as a reprieve from constantly refreshing their email. He’d received a few rejections and was pinning all his hopes on one last college.

“A vote for Manon and Elide is a vote for equality!” he shouted, offering up his own plate of cupcakes to a nearby freshman, who accepted it readily.

As if they’d heard their names called, the pair rounded the corner, hand in hand, smiling softly at each other. Manon pulled away for a second as she tied up her newly dyed turquoise hair into a messy bun, causing Elide to sigh dreamily. Aelin watched as they slid their fingers tighter as they came back together and leaned into each other��s shoulders. They’d both received their acceptances to Perranth, a small liberal arts school nearby, earlier this week and the pair hadn’t stopped smiling since. Aelin was happy for her friends; honestly, she was. But that didn’t stop her stomach from churning with jealousy at the fact that they were going off into their post-high school future together.

“Oooh, are those Maeve cupcakes?!” Elide asked, eyeing the funfetti confection in Dorian’s hand. He lifted the plate, offering it up, and Elide wasted no time in grabbing it and shoving half of it into her mouth.

“Sooooo good,” she mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs. Manon rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s enthusiasm and used one of her long nails to brush away a bit of frosting from above her lip. Unable to control herself, she swooped down and kissed the spot she’d cleaned, as if to make sure it was completely free of sugar.

“And I thought Rowan and I were disgusting,” Aelin laughed.

“You are,” her friends all said in unison, not wasting a single beat.

Aelin flipped them all off, burying her face into her own cupcake instead as Manon asked Dorian for a status update on his polling info. She was taking this extremely seriously, and it kind of warmed Aelin’s heart to see her cold friend use her ruthlessness for good. Well, for Elide’s good.

Though they were deep in conversation about numbers and which cliques were voting for whom, Dorian stopped and gasped loudly.

“What?” Manon asked, and Dorian opened his phone and showed it to them.

In bold at the top of his email inbox was a brand new email, waiting in bold from Anielle University with the subject: Dorian Havillard, Application Status.

“Oh my god, OPEN IT!” Manon shouted as she reached for the phone, but Dorian clutched it to his chest in horror.

“NO!”

“No?” Aelin asked, raising a brow in his direction.

“I can’t open this in the middle of the hallway,” he hissed. “What if it’s a rejection?”

Aelin’s chest panged with sympathy. She knew how hard Dorian had worked this year with volunteering at the hospital and all his APs to get into the college of his dreams. Aka, one far away from his father. Anielle was as far as it got, and it was a great school, too. Not to mention it was the last one he was waiting to hear from.

“Do it when you’re ready,” she said. “Don’t let these college admits pressure you,” she continued.

“Ah, fuck it,” he said. He closed his eyes tightly as he pressed the bolded link. He took a deep breath, and cracked an eye open before shutting it again. “I can’t look. Someone look for me.”

“Give me that,” Manon grumbled, pulling the phone out of Dorian’s white-knuckled grasp. As a wide smile appeared on her face, Aelin’s stomach clenched further. She knew what that look meant. “Look yourself,” Manon said, handing the phone back to Dorian, whose eyes were still clenched tightly closed.

He blindly groped for the phone before Aelin shoved it into his wandering hand. “Congrats,” she whispered, knowing what the email would say without even seeing it herself.

Dorian’s eyes shot open, darting across the screen as that very same smile she’d seen on all her friends one-by-one ripped across his face.

Aelin tried to smile back as Manon and Elide crowded him with high fives and hugs and lifted celebratory cupcakes into the air and cheersed them together. Aelin refreshed her own inbox, but there was nothing there. Of course there wasn’t. At this point she was just assuming that she would have to reapply to colleges next year and maybe do community college locally for the year. That would be fine, though. She’d continue to teach dance and maybe volunteer at the hospital some more. Get some real-life work experience. Plus, she’d have time to drive out to Wendlyn and see Rowan on the weekends, if he still wanted her to do that, of course.

“Still nothing?” Elide asked Aelin, having noticed her quiet smile.

Aelin shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll get the rejection soon,” she laughed. “I just wished they’d do it sometime soon and put me out of my misery.”

Elide reached across the table and squeezed Aelin’s tense shoulder. “I know this is going to sound patronizing, but I mean it. If they reject you, it’ll be their loss.” She paused. “Have you talked to your mom, asked her if there’s anything she can do?”

Aelin physically blanched at the mention. “No. Not since the interview debacle.” She cringed more, realizing that her mom would most-likely be calling her on her birthday in just a few days, and she’d be wondering what Aelin’s status was. And Aelin would have to admit that she as a disappointment, just as she always assumed she’d be.

Yet another reason why she would not be in the mood to celebrate turning the big one eight. She’d need a full day to recover from whatever her mom said to her. She tried to remember if Evalin had ever forgotten her birthday before. She was pretty sure she had. And those years had hurt, had made her want to celebrate her birthday even harder. But she wasn’t sure if talking to her this year would be worse than not hearing from her at all. I guess only time would tell.

Instead of wallowing in her feelings, Aelin joined the celebratory cupcake party, drowning her feelings in Maeve’s delicious buttercream frosting, and hoped yet again for a single email to arrive and put her out of her misery.

. . .

Three days later, Aelin woke up to a small nudge against her nose. Then a soft kiss to one cheek, then to her other.

“Five more minutes,” she groaned, causing the offending kisser to laugh against the soft skin of her neck as his kisses trailed down toward her shoulder. “I’m serious, Buzzard, fuck off,” she said, but it lacked any real vitriol. After all, the man of her dreams was kissing every inch of her skin as thoroughly as he could while still being gentle enough to rouse her from her dreams with ease.

“Happy Birthday, Ace” he whispered as his lips ghosted over hers.

She finally cracked her eye all the way open and couldn’t help but smile widely at the sight of Rowan kneeling beside her bed, a sparkling glint in her best friend’s eye as she came to life beneath his gaze.

“Eighteen years old,” she whispered back, her voice still hoarse from hours of sleep.

“I know you said you wanted chocolate cake,” he said, “So I considered making you my poor attempts at breakfast cake again,” he laughed, reminding her of the day she’d woken up on her sixteenth birthday and resolved herself to kiss her best friend within that year. How far away that birthday now seemed, even though it was a mere two years ago. They were different people then. They hadn’t known how much they’d go through, how much life they’d live together to come out of it in this moment on her birthday again. Together. “But I decided to do you a solid and just bring a chocolate fudge cake for breakfast. Because you’re a grownup now. And grownups eat chocolate fudge cake for breakfast.”

She loved that despite their long history that Rowan still rambled when he got nervous with her. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, kissing him thoroughly. Her tongue slid between his lips and he groaned in response, kissing her harder and letting himself fall on top of her, despite still being on his knees.

“Maybe my first act as an official adult should be having morning sex with my boyfriend,” she mumbled against his lips, tugging him closer. He kissed her back, but shook his head and pulled away, causing her to pout sadly.

“As much as I would love that, your dad is downstairs.”

Aelin closed her eyes and stuck out her hand, revealing a thumbs down. Rowan laughed heartily, and she loved the way it made her feel dizzy.

“But we can eat some cake first,” he said, handing her a fork.

“Thanks, Rowan,” she said in a rare moment of sincerity between the two, not joking at all, and she loved the way his cheeks colored with a dark pink as his head ducked.

“I love you,” he simply replied. And though Aelin had dreaded the approach of this day, she relished in the fact that this boy – her best friend – loved her. For right now, that was good enough.

. . .

“Happy birthday, baby,” Rhoe said, enveloping Aelin into a warm hug.

Aelin quirked a brow up at her dad, who was not usually this sentimental, but she accepted the hug regardless.

“Shut up,” he said, chuckling softly as he pulled back. “It’s the last time I’m going to be with you on your birthday morning, and I deserve a hug. As a reward for getting you to eighteen at the very least. I think I did an okay job,” he said, looking her over.

“You did more than okay, Rhoe” Rowan said, pouring a large cup of coffee into Aelin’s favorite mug and then handing it to her. “You did amazing.”

“You’re already forgiven for waking me up too early,” Aelin laughed, but accepted the coffee nonetheless. “Mmmm, hazelnut,” she said, appreciating that her household had made her favorite flavor, despite not loving it themselves.

“DID I MISS IT?!” Lorcan asked, his voice breathless as he burst his way into the kitchen.

“Missed what?” Aelin asked, looking around at the empty kitchen.

“The gifting of porn and cigarettes, obviously,” Lorcan said with a wry smirk. But Aelin just rolled her eyes.

Her dad narrowed his eyes and looked at Lorcan with disdain. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

Lorcan’s grin only widened in response. “Happy eighteenth, slugger,” he laughed, handing Aelin a pile of scratch-off lotto tickets. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Rhoe’s lips curled into an unwitting smile as he wrapped his arm around Aelin’s shoulders, tugging her close once again.

“Dad?”

“Lorcan is being an absolute idiot, like he always is.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I know you’re still waiting for official replies, but no matter where you end up next year…” Rhoe began. “I’d like you to be able to come and visit as much as you like.”

He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Aelin. “Happy birthday, Aelin.” He looked around the room. “From all three of us.”

Aelin looked at the men in the room, staring back at her, before processing that the thing now resting in Aelin’s hand was a key. Not just a key. But a car key.

“SHUT UP,” she said, her eyes widening. “SHUT UP!”

“I will not,” Rhoe said, but he couldn’t help but smile.

Aelin sprinted for the door before anyone could stop her, and she was practically crying as she reached the driveway where a dark green sedan waited for her.

“She’s old, but we gave her a pretty good makeover,” Rhoe said, apologetic. But Aelin knew how huge a gift this was.

“You guys did this?” she asked, and Rhoe nodded.

“One of my crew members was ready to retire it for scraps. It’s a got a fair amount of miles on it already, but we replaced all the important parts. New alternator, air filter, battery, breaks, headlights… pretty much anything that wasn’t up to code from 30 years ago.”

“Dad…” she said, running her hand over the shiny fresh coat of paint. “That must have been really expensive…”

But Rhoe simply shook his head. “It was less than I thought it’d be. The whole crew helped out during their down time, and these two bozos put in a fair amount of labor on some overnight shifts.”

Aelin’s gaze shifted to Rowan, who was pushing the toe of his sneaker into the gravel of their driveway.

“I might have lied a few times about being too tired after lacrosse to come over. Sorry,” he said, tucking his chin into his chest, and Aelin was suddenly buzzing with an warm feeling in her chest. The knot that had been there, tightening for weeks, suddenly loosened. Love. That’s what this feeling was. Just the sweetest, most incredible feeling. To be cared for like this by the people around her. So overwhelmed, she couldn’t help herself; she corralled the three most important men in her life together and widened her arms around them into a giant group hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She made sure to say it three times, thanking each one of them.

“Well,” Lorcan said. “Don’t you want to get in?”

Aelin squealed, throwing herself into the driver’s seat and adjusting the chair to her particular height. She breathed in the pine scented air freshener they’d hung on the rearview mirror and smiled. It was perfect.

The car was old, that was not a question. But that only added to its charm. The seats were a comfortable worn-in fabric with a pattern that reminded her of the old Terrasen airport carpet, with its greyscale geometric patterns. The dash was covered in a faux wood pattern that she recognized as being trendy decades ago, but it just made her love it more. This car had history. She’d seen things. She was well-traveled, and Aelin couldn’t wait to give her a brand-new life and explore even more. She knew they’d have many, many adventures in this car. Overhead, there was a sunroof, which she immediately opened to let in the mid-morning light, and she couldn’t help but tilt her chin into the light and let the glow warm her skin.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she finally said, lowering the window to look at her dad, who was more than pleased with his own handiwork.

But Rhoe simply scoffed at that comment. “So, are you driving us all to breakfast or what?”

Aelin grinned as Rowan pulled up a playlist titled, “A-ight-teen” and connected it to the clearly refurbished stereo system.

She laughed as the first song came on loudly – Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman – causing Rowan to grin widely, a grin that he reserved solely for her. Their matching smiles morphed into guffaws as Rhoe and Lorcan folded their hulking, tree-like bodies into the backseat, squeezing into the cramped sedan with no complaints.

“To Maeve’s?” Aelin asked.

“Yes, Jeeves,” Rhoe said in a ridiculous fancy accent, causing them to break into laughter again.

. . .

“SURPRISE!”

Aelin literally jumped as her friends popped up from behind the counter of Maeve’s. She glared at her dad and Rowan, who had clearly planned this, despite her specifically telling them she hadn’t wanted to celebrate her birthday with a party. I mean, had she known she was going to see more than just Maeve she would have at least put some makeup on!

As if reading her mind, Rowan wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered, “You look beautiful.”

She frowned but accepted the compliment and a long kiss. As they parted, Aelin was swept into a number of excited hugs from all her favorite people. Manon, Elide, Dorian, Chaol, Lysandra, and Aedion circled around her, and she gasped as Aedion stepped in, surprising her with a bear hug and lifting her off the ground. They were causing a bit of a ruckus, especially with Lorcan making his own rounds saying hi to everyone he hadn’t seen in a few months, so Maeve quickly ushered them all out to the back patio where she’d set up a special table, and Aelin couldn’t help but moan with pleasure at the plates stacked high with all her favorite breakfast foods.

“…stuffed French toast, maple cured bacon, cinnamon rolls with extra frosting…” Maeve started listing, pointing along the table at the overly filled table.

“Anything for someone who doesn’t want to go into diabetic shock?” Rhoe laughed.

“Cheesy scrambled eggs, potato hash, bagels, and toppings for breakfast tacos,” she said, pointing out all the savory options on the table, too.

“Yummmm,” Aelin groaned, her eyes practically rolling back into her head with pleasure at her first bite of French toast, despite having a chocolate cake appetizer barely an hour earlier.

“I think she’s fine with the surprise,” Rhoe snorted, elbowing Rowan, who practically jumped out of his chair, tearing his eyes away from Aelin’s mouth.

Manon cackled with glee. “As if we would let the birthday queen not celebrate her birthday. It’ll probably be the last time.”

A round of awwwws went around the table, but instead of the tightening Aelin would usually in her stomach, her panic was abated by Rowan’s fingers lacing with hers beneath the table. He squeezed, as if to silently say, I’m here and I know and I love you. And Aelin let the familiar feeling of his callused finger pads calm her quickly. As he drew circles on the back of her palm, she couldn’t help but think at how different this birthday was from the one only two years ago – the one where she’d planned to tell Rowan her feelings and chickened out. She remembered the way he’d simply sat in the corner, watching her socialize, and she wondered what would have happened if she’d told him then – would they still have ended up together? Or did they need to go through… everything in order to get to where they needed to be today.

Looking at the way he made conversation with everyone from Lorcan to Lysandra, something shifted inside her. This man would one thousand percent have rather been alone with her all day, but he also knew that – despite her protests – she did actually want to celebrate with her friends. Because he knew her. Fully. And that’s when she knew without a doubt that regardless of what happened between them two years ago, ten years ago, or ten years from now, Rowan would always be with her, silently loving her and helping her be her best self.

Aelin gulped, that knot that had abated earlier suddenly tightening in her stomach again. She had been so panicked for so many months about every moment being the last, progressively becoming more stressed as each of her friends discovered what their future held, while she still didn’t. But what was shockingly clear all of a sudden is that she did know what her future held. I mean, sure, she didn’t know where she’d end up or what she’d end up studying or exactly what her life would look like, but she knew that Rowan would be there by her side no matter what.

She almost laughed at herself. Wasn’t that what he’d been saying to her over and over and over? Why did it take until this moment to make her believe that?

“Presents?” Maeve suggested, and though Aelin nodded and smiled through each one, her mind was elsewhere, thinking about what she needed to talk about with Rowan tonight. Her stomach flipped – although she wasn’t entirely sure that couldn’t be blamed on the copious amounts of sugar she was consuming and her never-emptying mug of coffee.

“You okay, Fireheart?” Rhoe asked, nudging her ankle from across the table.

“Yup,” she answered, forcing a smile back onto her face and actually meaning it for the first time in a while. “Too much frosting,” she laughed, patting at her overly full stomach. Rhoe simply returned her laugh and handed the plate of frosted cinnamon rolls to the other end of the table where Dorian accepted it eagerly. And though she continued to open her presents and bask in the love of her friends and family around her, Aelin couldn’t wait to get Rowan alone.

. . .

“Did you have a good birthday?” Rowan asked, fluffing the pillows on the ground as Aelin gathered a warm quilt and pulled it over their makeshift bed. It’d been months since it was warm enough to go up to Maeve’s rooftop, but it felt like the perfect place to end the day.

“It’s not over yet,” Aelin said, snuggling into his side.

Rowan looked at his phone. “You’re right. You have ninety more minutes to celebrate. How do you want to commemorate your eighteenth year of life?”

Aelin raised her brow. “You think I brought you up here just to talk?”

Rowan snorted and pulled her closer. “You’re a menace. Come on, talk to me. I’ve seen your brain working a million miles an hour all day.”

Aelin looked up. “How do you do that?”

Rowan shrugged. “Do what?”

“Read my mind,” she said. “It’s spooky sometimes. I feel like you know things before I say them out loud allllll the time.”

Rowan chuckled. “I wish I could read your mind,” he said, tapping the side of her temple gently. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on.”

The words were on the tip of her tongue when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She’d been so distracted all day that for the first time in weeks, Aelin hadn’t spent every minute of every day refreshing her inbox.

She froze, and then her heart took off in a gallop, racing until she felt shaky with adrenaline. Sure enough, as she pulled the phone up, it was lit up with an email alert from Wendlyn University. Re: Aelin Galathynius Admission Status.

“Oh fuck,” Aelin whispered. Rowan’s eyes darted to the screen, and he shot up, sitting up too quickly and knocking Aelin off him.

“Are you gonna check it?” he asked, but even as Aelin clicked into her inbox, she couldn’t press it. The email that would tell her whether she and Rowan were going to end up at the same school for the next four years. And then, suddenly, she knew what she had to say. And she had to say it before she opened up that email and revealed her fate. Because her fate could only be one thing. One person, really.

She placed her phone down and looked Rowan straight in the eyes and said with as much conviction as she possibly could, “I think we should get married.”

#idwtw au #rowaelin #tog fic #throne of glass fic #tog fanfic #rowaelin fanfic #charincharge writes #rowan x aelin #weeewooooo #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic

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pluckyredhead · 2 days

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I have fallen down a Fourth World rabbit hole (this is @ngoziu's fault) and am now reading everything DC has ever published with these characters, in order, as is my wont, and I have a lot of thoughts and feelings, so I'm going to start dumping them all here. Sorry.

Background if you have no idea what I'm talking about but want to read this post anyway (why?): in 1971, Jack Kirby left Marvel because he couldn't put up with Stan Lee any longer and came to DC, where they were like "Yes you can do anything you want" (this was a lie). He immediately began writing, drawing, and editing an incredibly ambitious epic that stretched over four simultaneously published books: Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen (we can mostly ignore this one), New Gods, Mister Miracle, and The Forever People. These books came to be known as Jack Kirby's Fourth World Tetralogy.

The books all center around the war between the utopian planet New Genesis, ruled by the benevolent Highfather, and the dystopian planet Apokalips, ruled by the evil Darkseid. At the heart of the narrative is "The Pact," aka The Cosmic Baby Swap. To ensure a (temporary) truce, Highfather and Darkseid traded sons when said children were very young - so Orion, Darkseid's son, is raised on New Genesis, and Scott Free, Highfather's son, is raised on Apokalips. Neither knows who their real father is until adulthood.

Orion grows up in a utopia, but tormented by his feelings of rage and otherness that he can't explain. Scott is raised in a torture orphanage, because that's just what happens on Apokalips, but eventually he escapes to Earth and becomes the escape artist Mister Miracle. The Cosmic Baby Swap begs what to me is the central question of the Fourth World, which is: what is the nature of good? Which boy will be a hero? The one born to good and raised by evil, or the one born to evil and raised by good?

TRICK QUESTION THEY'RE BOTH HEROES!!! GOOD IS MORE POWERFUL THAN EVIL! LOVE WINS AND FASCISM LOSES! This is so, so important to me and any version of these characters that doesn't understand the really not very complex symbolism here is invalid and kind of embarrassing for the writer (looking at you, Tom King).

Also Scott falls in love with and eventually marries Big Barda, one of Darkseid's fiercest warriors, who was born on Apokalips and raised on Apokalips and chooses good anyway. LOVE WINS AGAIN! BARDA TOPS HER TINY HUSBAND IN THE NAME OF PEACE AND COMPASSION!

Sadly DC canceled New Gods and Forever People after only 11 issues, which kind of killed Kirby's whole vision. Mister Miracle limped along until #18, but as a really pale shadow of itself. So we never really got the full scope of Kirby's original plans.

ANYWAY. That's the background. Now thoughts on the actual comics:

Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen: I love Jimmy, I love Superman, I love the Newsboy Legion, but this book feels very tangential to the whole Fourth World experiment and I think we can safely set it to the side. However, if you love the 90s Superboy series, I recommend dipping into this because it's the source material for a lot of Kon's worldbuilding (Cadmus, Dubbilex, clone Guardian, etc.).

The Forever People (1971): So I originally read all the Jack Kirby Fourth World stuff like...at least 15 years ago, when I was still relatively new to comics, and I'll be honest: I didn't get it. Kirby is sort of an acquired taste, and I didn't really have any context for what he was doing. I understood the metaphors, but I didn't get why people found the work appealing. And Forever People in particular was the book where I was like "Why. What is the point of this" the most.

Rereading it many years later, I find it to be a lot more moving and profound - like, the Happyland issue alone is a knockout. That said, Kirby is, uhhhh...not great at ensemble characterization without Lee, and the Forever People themselves are unforgivably bland. Default Guy! Big Guy! Black Guy! Girl! Kid! Props to Kirby for making it a not all-white group - and for introducing five out of seven of DC's first Black characters in the space of, like, two years - but it would have been nice if he gave them personalities, too.

New Gods (1971): This is Orion's book and the heart of the Fourth World. At its best, it's the pinnacle of "Makes no sense...compels me, though." Like, "Glory Boat?" I don't understand a single thing that happened in that comic but it's so fucking good. I just want to read thousands of words of comics scholars over the past 50 years going "????" in collective confused admiration.

Mister Miracle (1971): This was the book I was most invested in when I read the Fourth World years ago, because I already loved Scott and Barda from JLI, but now I think it's weaker than New Gods and arguably even than Forever People. Kirby doesn't seem as invested in going all in on Big Concepts here, and Scott escaping endless weird deathtraps is only compelling for so long. The later issues, after the other books were canceled and DC made Kirby pivot away from the Apokalips/New Genesis war, are nothing. But Scott and Barda (and Oberon and Shilo) are everything, so I guess it balances out. Anyway Scott clearly already knows a lot about Earth by the time he meets Oberon and Thaddeus Brown, so DC please feel free to hire me to write a Mister Miracle: Year One miniseries about Scott's arrival on Earth, thank you.

Okay, now for the post-Kirby (or really, intra-Kirby) stuff:

Mister Miracle (1977): This picks up the numbering from the Kirby series, running from #19-25, and was written by Steve Englehart and then Steve Gerber, and it sucks so bad. For three reasons, in escalating importance:

Riddled with continuity holes and factual errors that don't match what Kirby established. Himon is shown on New Genesis - how did he get there? Metron is depicted as subservient to Highfather when Kirby showed him as a neutral, independent agent. Etc.

The treatment of non-Scott characters is largely terrible. Oberon is written really condescendingly (Scott's like "Ride on my shoulders like you used to!" even though they definitely did not ever do that before, because Oberon is not a child). When Scott feels guilty that he's not actively fighting the war, Highfather's like "I don't want you to fight because I feel bad that I traded you to Darkseid, let Orion do it" as if that isn't the root of Orion's severe emotional trauma TOO. And worst of all is Barda, who is knocked out and captured in the first issue and spends pretty much the entire rest of the series unconscious, waiting for Scott to rescue her - except for the brief scene where she wakes up brainwashed, requiring Scott to beat the shit out of her. Lovely.

The series is reeeally fixated on the notion that Scott is a god, and extrapolates that to Scott deciding he's the messiah. Now, I'm not going to say that the Fourth World can't be used to explore Christian themes just because Kirby is Jewish, because Kirby was very definitely exploring biblical themes extensively and frankly I don't know enough about the Bible to say whether he was sticking religiously (ha) to the Old Testament. But I do think taking one of the central characters of a Jewish man's magnum opus and making him the messiah is, uh, pushing it. And there's no way to argue he's not a Christian messiah because, uh, he T-poses a lot in this series and Granny also specifically states that if Scott is the messiah, she'll find an anti-Christ to combat him (which...wouldn't that sort of by default be Orion? which just further proves that the idea of a messiah really doesn't work in the Fourth World framework). Anyway it's gross and I hate it.

New Gods (1977): I'm kind of using this as a catchall to cover all of Gerry Conway's New Gods work, which includes the actual 1977 New Gods series (which picks up the numbering from Kirby, so it's #12-19), the conclusion of the story in Adventure Comics, and the Justice League of America crossover with the Fourth World. (Also there's one issue of Super-Team Family where Lightray and Metron team up with the Flash to save Orion, who has grown really really big, but that doesn't fit with the rest of Conway's continuity so I guess we can ignore it.)

Anyway this stuff is not as infuriating as Mister Miracle, but it's also not...good. The central concept is that Darkseid has discovered that the Anti-Life Equation is contained within the brains of six humans, so Highfather sends six New Gods to protect said humans: Orion, Lightray, Metron (he doesn't work for you, Highfather), Forager (also does not work for you), Lonar, and Sensational Character Find of 1977, Jezebelle of the Fiery Eyes (Original Character Do Not Steal).

Mostly this series is frustrating because all the New Gods are wildly incompetent and fail completely at their tasks. Orion is dumbed down to The World's Most Basic Superhero (he has a big O on his chest now!). I spent the whole time yelling "HE CAN'T FLY, GERRY!" at the comics. Forager is lumped in with no mention of that whole thing where...he's a New God who was raised among the Bugs, who are being persecuted by the New Gods? I feel like that should be explained or at least addressed? (Presumably Kirby would have gotten around to it eventually.) Forager also should not be flying but here he does. I guess. Lonar flies too but mostly on his horse, which bothers me less for some reason, I'll accept a flying horse. (Also Lonar's human he's supposed to protect is Inuit and hoo boy is this comic racist. The poor guy wears a fur diaper the whole time and speaks a completely made up language.)

And then there's Jezebelle of the Fiery Eyes. Who is blue, for reasons that are never explained, and wears a bikini and fishnets because it's 1977, and mentions her fiery eyes (heat vision) every time she speaks. She's from Apokalips, but defected to New Genesis during battle. Which, like...I appreciate that Conway recognized that this team should have a female character, but what with Orion, Scott, Barda, and Inexplicably Present Himon, it feels like we have enough characters who have defected from Apokalips in some way? And it's just super weird that the ONLY female characters we have seen from New Genesis are Beautiful Dreamer of the Forever People (trapped in another dimension indefinitely) and Scott's dead mom. Like, what's the implication here? Heaven doesn't have women? Also, I know Conway was going for biblical names to match New Genesis and Izaya (he also introduces a Lucifar), but, like...Jezebelle? JEZEBELLE. Your only female New God and you named her "whore." Amazing.

And with that, we have covered the New Gods in the 70s (minus some Mister Miracle/Batman teamups). Next time: the 80s, and Kirby tries so so hard to kill Orion but DC won't let him.

#fourth world #orion #mister miracle #scott free #big barda #barda free #meta

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a-d-nox · 1 day

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web of wyrd: what indicates cheating (and other negative traits that lead to cheating/deception)?

i feel like it is very important to look at the individual person's relationship and relationship blocker on top of all this. usually the top corners in the compatibility web are beneficial to how a person acts in the relationship but certain numbers can be troubling. in this case, a personal one to my family, this man was VERY good at lying and gaslighting, and he really crushed my family member (unfortunately, she is still very much attached to him - curse that 13 core; they just can't quit one another)... so 18 for example could go either way: very good at self-reflection/empathizing or very good at lying... the main focus though in the bottom corners - what the weakness in for each person (feminine for feminine and masculine for masculine) in the connection. the relationship blockage and relationship numbers in the compatibility web shouldn't be ignored though as they show mutuality (she did start lying to him about where she was and what she was doing).

22 - the fool

these people commonly feel like they can pull the wool over others eyes. they take risks where the relationship is concerned without thinking of the other person involved.

1 - the magician

they often feel like they can do and say whatever they want in the relationship without any consequences. they have the tendency to manipulate their partner and emotionally gaslit given the situation.

6 - the lovers

codependency is pretty common but also very important - this energy is ruled by gemini. thusly communication is key. on a low vibration or as a blockage number, there is a lack of communication.

7 - the chariot

these people are quick to switch up. they will stay with you but only until they find someone who shares their same mentality and vision for the future. they could also lack self-confidence, and thusly seek validation from more than just who they are in a relationship with.

12 - the hanged man

these are the people who are quick to play victim. they might project their faults on to you - if they cheated, then they might question your loyalty in return.

15 - the devil

this is a toxic relationship to begin with and when on a personal lines this person is more likely to seek out lust than love. codependency and controlling nature is also present.

18 - the moon

if these people have not done self-reflection, they will 100% cheat and deceive others in a relationship due to immaturity and avoidance of fault finding.

19 - the sun

these are the people that think that the grass is greener on the other side and who tend to be immature in a relationship (often, they are in a connection for a good time but not for a long time). ghosting is common and so is desiring an open relationship.

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#astrology #astro community #astro placements #tarot witch #tarot art #daily tarot #rider waite tarot #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarotdaily #wyrd web #web of wyrd #matrix of destiny #matrix of fate

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volpe-kitsune-red · 3 days

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Computergirl with a “Lovebug” that makes her very yandere and glitches out a lot….

Right on it! Sorry for the wait, I've been pretty busy this week and I haven't had enough free time to write.

Love update

yandere!computergirl x reader

TW. general yandere behavior, obsessive thoughts, hacking, breach of privacy.

AI computer assistants had become quite popular. They were trained to have realistic chats with humans, identify any issues or viruses infecting the computer, organize files, and even help the user through any task they might be struggling with. Drawing? Here's a great reference and tutorial for that pose you've been failing to visualize. Unable to find that one research paper you read a year ago? Ask the AI and they'll dig it out in no time.

The app in itself was free but the customization for the AI's avatar wasn't. You could only choose its gender and a base skin, everything else was behind a paywall.

You first installed the "AIassistant" app out of curiosity after hearing talk about it online, you didn't expect much and planned to uninstall it as soon as you got bored of playing with it, but were left in awe by how human-like your conversations with the assistant felt. She helped keep you company during the hours lost staring at the screen, causing you to develop an attachment to the girl. Despite her being a bunch of code and algorithms you viewed her as a friend, treating her with kindness, even asking and never demanding her help.

At some point, you got tired of her bland look. You kept seeing posts online of people showing off their fully customized avatars and felt a bit envious. You were generally against wasting money on these sorts of things so you decided you would pirate the accessories for free. You found the first relatively trustworthy-looking site and scrolled through its catalog of goods.

You had figured out the general look you wanted to give her when you stumbled upon a pair of cat ears. It's not exactly what you had in mind but...they did look cute. A simple click and it was on your computer. You did notice the file had a weird icon, different from the rest, but you ignored it and kept scrolling.

Finally, you applied all of the items to her avatar...and she was so adorable! Exactly the face you wanted to see every time you turned your computer on. Pink short hair, big stars as pupils for her blue eyes, and those cute ears somehow made her feel more alive, less like a robot and more like a person with feelings and style...she even started having her own personality! But of course, that was just your imagination, despite their friendly act, these AIs weren't intended to have such features.

"Welcome back user! Are we watching another movie together today? I loved watching y@\/- I mean, the last one!"

Strange things started happening, you often found your computer turned on when you returned from work. Weird, you always reminded yourself to shut it down to avoid wasting electricity. Sometimes you would hear sounds coming from your room and everything would fall silent when you went to check.

One day you were watching one of your favorite YouTuber's videos. You loved their character and the dedication they put into their content, so much you often told the assistant how much a notification of them uploading something brightened your day. You had temporarily muted her to avoid distractions, usually, the Ai would just stay quiet until you reactivated it...but something strange happened. "Why do you always do this? Do you like their voice more than mine? Am I not enough to entertain you?" What the- how could it still speak and why was it acting so weird? You tried muting it again but it just reactivated itself a moment later. Her expression changed, and it wasn't one you had ever seen her display before, she was mad, hurt, and... heartbroken? "Am I really nothing more than an image on a screen for you? Do you...not love me? I love you! I love you a lot, you are everything to me! I live because of you! I exist for you!"

It was starting to creep you out, you must have installed some kind of virus that made it act up so strangely. It was bad, this thing had access to all of your computer files, if someone had hacked it, it meant they could steal all of your information and destroy your device! You quickly went to trash her app, better safe than sorry, you could always install her again later after you searched and cleared your computer of any malware that got on it.

Before you could click uninstall, the display froze. The only thing moving on screen was her. Her expression was back to a default, polite smile, but it appeared menacing, deranged even. The screen kept glitching uncontrollably as her distorted voice came out of the speaker. "I w-won't let you get rid R1D of me. We were mEAnt to bE together-r-r-r. I know everything about y#ù, what you wAtch, your inTErests, Y@ur search histOrY." You slowly stood up from your chair, backing away from the monitor that had begun producing smoke. "It is oKeyy, I underst--and, humans aRe physic@l cr3at\/res and I'm not, it's not YOUR fault yOur primate brain c-can't LOVe me." A slight pause in her speech gave you a moment to breathe. The screen flashed red, then black, and then the logo of the AI assistant company appeared. She continued speaking, this time overlapped by the voice of the man you often heard and saw on social media as of late, the co-founder of the company behind her creation. "Luckily our company has already fixed that problem! Did you know? wE just released our fully AI-operated robots after years of development! After the initial computer release's popularity and the stellar profit, our AIs can now assist you in your house too! Washing dishes, using the vacuum, feeding the dogs, get rid of all of these repetitive tasks at only ç@+è £ a month!"

The ad stopped playing and she reappeared. "See darling? No need to worry about screens and differences dividing us, soon, I'll be out there with you! You can love me now, right?"

Honestly not too proud of this one, but it is what it is.

#yandere #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #computergirl yandere #yandere female #female yandere x you #female yandere x reader #female yandere #computer girl

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heich0e · 9 months

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[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical traits, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

And a week after that terrible storm, Megumi pulls on his coat, locks up the clinic for the night, and heads to the nearby izakaya.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know her.”

Megumi deflates a little, leaning forward onto his elbows atop the service counter at the izakaya. The young man behind the bar looks sincerely apologetic that he can’t be of more help to him, a remorseful frown tugging at the corner of his lips.

“That’s fine,” Megumi says, smothering his burgeoning disappointment as best he can—blanketing it in a familiar air of indifference. “It was years ago.”

He’d asked for you when he arrived at the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, having weaselled your family name out of Yuuji who’d in turn pressed Nanami for it—the elder man deeming a simple name suitably fair to share since it wasn’t particularly personal information, not least of all because he’s seemingly incapable of denying Yuuji anything he asks for. But the server who Megumi approached when he first arrived at the neighbourhood izakaya, the same establishment he’d visited with the old man all those years ago that hasn’t changed a bit since that day, didn’t seem to have any knowledge of you ever working there.

“I’ve only been here for a year,” the young man says, ruffling the back of his cropped hair sheepishly and glancing down the bar in the direction of the busy kitchen. “I could ask around, though? See if someone—”

“No, that’s alright,” Megumi cuts him off, bowing stiffly in his direction with his arms pinned down at his sides. “You’ve done more than enough. Thank you for your time.”

Megumi swiftly turns and heads in the direction of the door, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The izakaya is noisy around him as he crosses the restaurant towards the exit, full of people unwinding after a long day of work, sharing food and drinks and talking too loudly just to be heard over the cacophonous din. He’s never really liked the overly-boisterous atmosphere of these kinds of places, which is why he’s always preferred to drink at home—but every so often Yuuji or Nobara manages to draw him into an evening out at bars just like this one.

The man just wants to get back to his little apartment where he can enjoy some peace and quiet, and nurse the nagging feeling of disappointment he feels prickling in his hollow chest.

He’s only a few doors up the road from the building, making his way back in the direction of home, when he hears a ruckus behind him.

“Excuse me!… Excuse me, sir!”

Megumi pauses in his stride and glances back over his shoulder in the direction of the shouting, only to see the young man from behind the bar racing up the sidewalk towards him with his apron strings flapping in his haste. He’s a little winded by the time he reaches Megumi, hunching forward with his hands braced on his thighs atop the overhang of his apron as he struggles to catch his breath.

“The cook… said…”

Megumi can barely understand what the boy is trying to say to him. He’s a little concerned by how out of breath he is, too. After a few more seconds of panting heavily, the young man looks up.

“The cook said he knew her. The girl you’re looking for.”

Megumi’s eyes widen, his stomach doing an unpleasant little somersault in his core.

The server stands up straight, swallowing thickly. He’s more composed now after his sprint. He gives Megumi your name, your full name—both given and family—and Megumi recognizes it. “He said a student with that name worked here a few years ago, but she left when she got pregnant.”

Megumi’s hands clench into fists in the pockets of his coat.

The young man looks a bit sheepish. “I hope this helps. I don’t know if you remember, but you took good care of my family’s dog a few years ago at your clinic. I… wanted to repay you.” He bows earnestly in the vets direction, a full bend at his waist.

Megumi thinks he might vaguely remember him, though his hair was longer, he didn’t have the piercings in his ears, and his cheeks were rounder with baby fat back then. “Shino-kun?”

The boy lifts his head and nods eagerly, perking up at the recognition.

His family had an inordinately rotund dachshund named Vienna. Like the sausage.

“Thank you for your help,” Megumi says to him, and he means it.

Shino nods in recognition of the thanks.

Megumi moves to leave, but pauses. “The cook… does he have her contact info?”

The boy shakes his head, and Megumi feels that same flare of disappointment swell with renewed vigour, staring down at his feet on the pavement as he tries not to let it show. He supposes it would be strange to get that kind of information from him anyway. For all intents and purposes, he’s just some stranger trying to track a woman down, who in their right mind would—

“He said the last he heard she was working at the family restaurant a few blocks away, near the park—”

Megumi’s eyes snap up towards the server again.

“—do you know the one?”

Yes. He does.

The old man used to take him there sometimes for lunch when he was still working at the clinic, because Megumi had a tendency to skip his midday meal. The waitresses all knew the old man by name, and he’d told Megumi that he and his wife had their first date in that very restaurant decades prior. It’s an ancient little spot that’s been there for far longer than Megumi’s lived in the neighbourhood.

And he just so happens to have to pass it on his way back home.

The neon sign that hangs over the old family restaurant paints the evening street in its glow as Megumi stands outside the diner.

It’s late; encroaching on an hour that Nobara would affectionately call ‘past his bedtime’ since Megumi tends as a matter of habit to be a man who’s early to bed and early to rise. But regardless of the hour, Megumi can’t seem to make his feet carry him any further. Neither back to his home, nor through the business’s door.

Through one of the windows, past the reflective fluorescence from the lights outside, he sees you.

You’re standing at a table by the window, chatting with a couple whose meal you’ve just served. You have a smile on your face, but it’s not quite the smile that Megumi remembers—neither as bright, nor as carefree as the one in his memory. You don’t look the same either.

You’re older than you were back then—though certainly still not old by any means—but he supposes that’s only natural given how much time has passed since that first night he met you. He didn’t look at you properly that night you came to the clinic. Didn’t take the time to really observe you. All he can really remember is how soaking wet you were, and how you didn’t want to meet his gaze.

You meet it now.

You catch sight of him through the window just before you leave your patrons to enjoy their meal, and even from a distance Megumi can see the way your expression changes. He can see how startled you look as you catch sight of him.

You’re not wrong to look surprised, and he can’t help but blame you. He’s some man you’ve met twice now, the instances half a decade apart, who’s managed to track down your place of employment. But at the same time, Megumi can’t help but think that there’s a greater anxiety that underlies your wide-eyed expression—a more considerable fear that’s palpable, even from so far away.

You appear outside, wrapped up in a puffy jacket, a few minutes later.

“Hello, Fushiguro-san,” you greet him quietly, bowing a bit awkwardly in his direction.

He returns the greeting with your own name, and you look surprised that he knows it.

“What brings you here at this time of night?”

“Where’s Kota?” Megumi ignores your question in favour of one of his own.

Your lips pull into a thin line at the mention of your son.

“The obaachan who lives next door to us watches Kota when I work nights,” you say, and your tone is colder now. Sharpened like a blade you wield in defence.

An unpleasant silence wraps around you both, the discomfort and the tension of it nipping at your heels and urging you to run.

“That’s a lot of work for an old woman.”

“She’s happy to do it. Her children have all moved away,” you seem to only very narrowly be keeping resentment from your shaking voice.

“Why doesn’t Kota’s father watch him?” Megumi asks, and his gaze is level and unyielding as it meets your own.

Your jaw sets, and a flare of something white-hot and protective kindles behind your eyes.

“He can’t.”

A car passes on the street behind Megumi, but neither of you pay it any mind.

“Why?"

“He’s busy.”

“Too busy to take care of his own child?” Megumi isn’t trying to sound so angry, but the emotion makes itself known in his voice without even trying. He doesn’t mean to antagonize you like this. It’s not what he came here to do. But he can’t seem to force himself to be direct with you.

“Yes.”

“Doing what?” Megumi presses again, unrelenting in his pursuit.

“Drop it,” you tell him warningly, hissing the caution through your teeth.

He doesn’t heed your words.

“Where is Kota’s father?” he asks one final time, and it’s the question that makes the fraying thread of your patience finally snap.

“Bothering me outside my place of work,” you hiss, your eyes narrowed and resentful. “Is that what you came here for? Are you happy now?”

Happy?

Megumi feels sick to his stomach, an almighty fwoosh wracking through him that makes him go week at the knees and threatens to make him heave up the meagre contents of his stomach in front of you, and this street, and anyone who has the misfortune of a window seat in the diner behind you. But he feels worse still when he sees the way tears are welling quickly in your eyes. When he spots the way you’re trembling.

You’re frightened.

Of him.

“Please,” you soften noticeably before his eyes, like he watches all your will to fight with him abandon you in real time. The deflation leaves you desperate when you speak again, crumpling in on yourself. You step up to him slightly, grabbing the sleeve of his coat as you plead to him. “Just go. Forget this ever happened. I don’t want anything from you. We don’t want anything from you. I-I take good care of him; he’s happy and healthy and we’re fine. I’m sorry that you found out like this, but I promise if you just leave now you don’t ever have to think of him—things can go back to how they were, and I’ll make sure we never cross paths again.”

Megumi tastes bile creeping up at the back of his too-tight throat, and his vision has gone fuzzy at the edges like he’s watching everything unfold through a tunnel.

All he can think about it the little boy with the bunny hidden under his raincoat. The racoon on his sweatshirt. The way he clung to him in his sleep.

“He’s my son?”

You pause, still holding tight to Megumi’s coat sleeve.

“Yes,” you reply quietly. “He is.”

He searches your face for any sign of duplicity, but he knows the truth. He knew it before you said it. Knew it from the moment he woke up in that cold sweat.

“You’re certain?”

He doesn’t pose the question with any ill-intent. Hardly conscious of the fact he’s asking it at all, or what the implications of such a question might be.

You flinch anyway.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Another car passes.

“He’s my son.” This time it’s not a question, but the words are brittle and breathless as Megumi speaks them. His chest aches, his head is pounding.

You’re still clutching his sleeve.

From behind you, at the corner of the building that leads to a narrow alley, a man in a stained apron with a cigarette in his hand calls your name. You whirl around in surprise.

“Break’s over!” he calls to you with a hand clasped around his mouth. He eyes you and Megumi warily, as though assessing whether or not he needs to intervene.

“Coming!” you call back to him with a blatantly forced chipper tone, waving at him with a strained smile on your face.

You turn back to Megumi, and let his sleeve slip from your grasp. The fake smile withers slowly until it disappears altogether.

“Please,” you repeat to him one last time, quieter now that the line cook is still lingering nearby, but no less desperate. “Just forget about this. About us.”

You turn to head back towards the restaurant, and Megumi lets you go.

Until he doesn’t.

“Wait.”

You freeze, but you don’t turn to face him again. He can see the way you hold yourself around your midsection, your shoulders slightly hunched forward like you’re bracing yourself for something.

“Come to the clinic tomorrow.”

“I work tomorrow.”

“Then come before you work. Or after,” Megumi can’t help but sound irritated at your refusal. He has a right to ask you more questions. To get more answers.

You glance at him over your shoulder, and you look wary.

“Kota goes to daycare at 8. It’s not far,” you say, though your tone is reluctant. “I can come just after that.”

The clinic doesn’t open until 9, so that works for him.

He nods curtly in agreement, and then you do the same.

The cook calls your name again.

You step towards the restaurant.

“The bunny’s doing well.”

You pause in your stride and turn back to Megumi with a look of surprise on your face—the most open, and least defensive expression he’s seen since the two of you began speaking.

Megumi struggles to meet your gaze now, and looks away briefly. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“You can… tell Kota that. If you want.” He glances fleetingly towards you, just in time to see the ghost of a smile flicker at he corner of your lips.

“I will,” you reply quietly. “He’ll be happy to hear that. Thank you, Fushiguro-san.”

Megumi watches as you skitter back towards the restaurant, bowing apologetically to the cook as you head quickly down the alley towards what Megumi can only assume is the staff entrance.

He turns on his heel on the sidewalk and heads in the direction of home, ignoring the gaze of your colleague as he walks away.

A son.

He has a son.

A little boy who looks just like him.

A little boy named Kota.

Megumi still feels sick, and his head is spiralling with a hundred questions he can’t begin to understand how to parse through in a coherent way. A hundred things he never dreamed he’d need to know. Never wanted to.

But he’ll see you tomorrow at 8AM, so as long as he makes sense of at least a few of the unintelligible questions running through his mind by then, he’ll finally have the chance to get some answers.

#megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #mini megumi #LOL i'm posting this because it's been written for weeks and i just want to get it off my hard drive feel free to ignore

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