My friend rly went and said "Kaeya is easier to draw than Childe."
Me, foolishly, drawing both of them in fullbody to proof a point: "wanna bet?"
Okay no but do you remember the little scene in s2e7 when Otis was giving Ruby a ride on his bike and she leaned on his back and... didn't you think... damn, this is probably the first time she had anyone to lean on (emotionally OR physically) in a very long time
I adore Scratch’s new trend of trying to yoink Molly through walls, like he’s either A.) forgotten the limitations of being alive, or B.) keeps forgetting she’s not a ghost. Knowing him, I’m betting on both.
please let it be green goats or green geckos
NieYao + 42?
42. Ooh Child by MILCK
[Okay, so I cheat. It is Nieyao, but it’s NieYao within 3zun of the 3zun Raise Jingyi AU of the Post Reconciliation variety because that’s what surfaced and I HOPE THAT’S OKAY]
Mingjue’s head ached, all down his neck and shoulders. Baxia crept around in the back of his head, a prowling presence, hungry for blood, frustrated that he was trapped in a room, reading missives of all things instead of fighting the evil that gnawed at the roots of the world. With a growl, he tossed the stack he held back onto his desk--with more force than he intended to, because it hit with a smack and slid off, hitting the floor and feathering out with a secondary impact.
Across the room in his seat near the sunny window, A-Yao jumped. It was small, almost unnoticeable. But Mingjue noticed--he always noticed, now, how A-Yao reacted to any sort of physical display of anger. It made him sick, knowing why, stuck in that toxic hole of a place. No matter if Jin Zixuan and his wife meant well, Mingjue isn’t sure he will ever forgive any of them for not noticing what was going on right under their noses. Even himself. Maybe especially. He knew that Xichen felt the same.
The blame was all festered and clotted, even though A-Yao had hidden it from all of them intentionally, the signs weren’t obvious. Except that they were. They should have been. It made his blood boil, balling his fists and tightening the tension that banded his temples.
Light hands descended carefully onto his shoulders and he had to fight against tensing, against whipping around to face him because he knew who it was--the only other person in the room with him. He had closed his eyes against the rise in temper, but he knew. And he trusted him. When he didn’t react badly, A-Yao’s fingers tightened surely, slowly, kneading at the stiff muscles. Mingjue grunted as his thumbs dug into a tender knot just right of his spine and allowed no mercy, waiting patiently until it released. Reluctantly. “I’m sorry,” Mingjue muttered, because he was trying to say that more.
The pressure paused, then eased and instead, A-Yao’s own weight draped over his shoulders, arms crossing over his chest. One came up to touch his cheek and turn it toward him. Mingjue let him. A-Yao kissed the corner of his mouth, softly, then the whole of it, slowly. Mingjue breathed him in.
“It’s nothing,” A-Yao murmured against him, even though it wasn’t. “Shall I play for you?”
It was his way of asking, ‘is it getting bad, again? Is the rage getting too deep?’ Always so delicate, his partners. Always their way with words.
“Just be with me.”
With a sigh that spoke more of contentment than frustration, A-Yao settled back, resting his chin on his own arm where it pillowed itself on Mingjue’s shoulder. Tilting his own head, Mingjue pressed their foreheads together. Baxia still lurked in the background, and discontent still stirred in his chest--but it was altogether manageable because it would not always be this hard. And he would not face it alone.