Seafoamfelly - Trash Compacter

One of the most common reasons I hear for people being against abortion is because “life is sacred.”

Really? Since when? When has life ever been sacred in this country?

If life is sacred, how come we don’t have universal healthcare?

If life is sacred, how come we don’t pass comprehensive gun laws so first graders don’t get gunned down in their classrooms?

If life is sacred, why don’t we offer paid maternal leave so mothers can actually take care of the babies that you are now forcing them to have?

If life is sacred, how come we don’t bat an eye when the police murder black kids?

If life is sacred, why do we have the highest maternal death rate in the developed world, which is only going to increase now that women are being forced to give birth?

If life is sacred, why is the death penalty even still a thing?

If life is sacred, why are we still encouraging violence against the LGBTQ+ community?

Life has literally never been sacred in this country. Maybe anti-choicers like to pretend that it is because it makes them feel righteous when in reality, they’re just misogynistic pieces of shit, but it’s not. And as long as psychotic, reactionary morons continue to steal power undemocratically and make decisions that the majority of us do not want, it never will be.

Favorite trophy

jacob custos at hackett's quarry for the final day!~

heart: broken car: destroyed tits, ass, and jacussy: out

I adore him ❤️

Version with jewelry:

Dendro NA: 101 (Yandere!Alhaitham/Reader)

a/n: “ansy weren’t you going to write faceless!ayato and music composer!tighnari” well yes but things happened so now here we are. I’m dedicating this fic to crying anon since they’re the person that gave me an idea of an "what if Alhaitham had an elf!darling?" after this fic. The beginning reads like an enemies-to-lovers fic with a slice of crack where nothing goes wrong but trust me it’s not lmao

unreliable synopsis: After Alhaitham forged your signature, you're now forced to become the Acting Grand Sage’s assistant. It's even more annoying when he nearly visited your house all drugged up. Seriously, when will he learn to respect his seniors?

CW: yandere themes, noncon touching, aphrodisiacs, possessiveness, so much bickering, and the reader slanders dendro for plot reasons. 

Pulcinella, The Rooster, came to visit early in the morning.

“Pups, please… Stop turning my apartment upside down and just tell me what you want.”

It was unexpected how the old man barged into your “unconquerable mess of an apartment” with the intent to celebrate your newfound job at the Haravatat. Mayor Pulcinella isn’t your direct grandfather, but he is your grandfather’s brother. The fact that you are connected to him is a well-known secret (as absurd an oxymoron as that may sound) in the College of Engineering and Technology at the Akademiya. Because of the collectivist mentality that characterized your family, every last pointy-eared relative you are aware of is blatantly nosy and annoying. The "mayor" is much more so.

Pulcinella did come to extend his congratulations, with a generous batch of cookies even, but he had an objective in mind. His way of showing that he cares is usually in the form of letters but he stands right in front of you now. You can only imagine how difficult it is for someone in his position to take a leave of absence this far since Port Ormos is so far away from home and it takes days for mail to arrive here.

Your grandfather is obstinate. Terrifying so since you recognize that expression on his face all too well. Although you are unsure of what he needs from you, you do know that you want him out. Immediately.

“Don’t talk to me in that tone, child.” He scowled, jabbing your briefcases with his wooden cane. “I’m not leaving until I find it.”

That "Rooster" moniker belongs to him without a doubt. Your belongings were seized by the elf-like a bird's beak. He prodded the dreadful equation-filled sheets hanging on your wall and snatched a few trinkets on your work table. Good lord. Pulcinella made so much noise that if you weren’t already planning on starting your day, you would’ve been incredibly cranky when he knocked on your door.

“For Her Majesty’s sake– just what are you trying to find, grandpups?”

He turned to look at you.

Not mad, but disappointed– sad, even.

“An engagement ring. Evidence that you’re dating that fool, Alhaitham.”

You groaned.

“Him again?! Motherf—”

Pulcinella quirked his eyebrow at your outburst, “hmm?”

You chuckled nervously, “ah, sorry, I just… It’s nothing.”

No, it was not “nothing.” That bastard ruined a lot of things for you, including your vision. You didn’t want a dendro vision. You were praying for Rex Lapis every night even after his death but somehow being involved with Alhaitham strayed your path to gaining the “grass fertilizer tool” as you loved to call it. Sure, there’s little evidence that he’s the reason behind the fact that you got a dendro vision instead of geo but that doesn’t change the fact that you want to crush him between your palms like a writhe scarab. Especially after he enlisted you as his scribe-disciple without your consent. What a complete scumbag.

Oh, to quit the Akademiya only to be forced to go back again…

But of course, your grandpups don’t know anything about this and you have ZERO intentions of letting him in on your business. If he knows, then ALL of Snezhnayan elves know.

“I’ve heard from your mother that you’ve gone lovesick and left the Akademiya,” Pulcinella spoke in a slow somber tone. “And falling recklessly in love and gaining a dendro vision does not sound like you at all.”

Eww. Lovesick? Hell no.

If it weren’t for this man, you would’ve graduated as a fully pledged civil engineer next year. If he wasn’t such a great scribe, no, forger, your signature wouldn’t be on that damn contract.

That man seriously has no respect for his seniors.

Nevertheless, it was too late to do anything. You just have to accept the consequences of your inaction. Additionally, if you're going to take this "new job," you might as well act as if you adore it.

Hooray! Don’t you love working for Alhaitham? Isn’t it fun to discard your 4 years of studying? Oh, what joy! You definitely did not burn your eyebrows out trying to ace FIFTY Kshahrewar mock tests!!!–

“Talk to me, poppet.” He continued, eyebrows knitted. His wrinkly hands reached to gently hold yours. Suddenly, you remembered that he is still family. That this was the same old major that your young self boasted their miniature construction toys to.

“I’m worried that something might’ve happened. And my dear, health is not the absence of disease or infirmity, it is also–”

“The complete state of physical, mental, AND social wellbeing. Yes. I know, Pups. You nearly forced me to study medicine.” You groaned and palmed your forehead, weak but playful.

He chuckled heartily.

The old man’s rather soft with you compared to his other grandchildren. If he wasn’t, you’d likely find yourself as Il Dottore’s new assistant.

Although most people would find working for a harbinger, especially The Doctor, to be a complete nightmare, you concluded that being Alhaitham's slave was the epitome of "overrated garbage," and you despise the scribe so much you can't even remember his appearance. Sure, Layla’s jealous that you’re essentially set for life by being a scribe assistant but at least Dottore gives his assistants a hefty pay discounting his crimes against humanity…

You’re not proud to call Alhaitham your boss. That stupid #093c0d face doesn’t make your 2 million mora salary worth the trouble. He needs to pay for your mental health insurance–

“Are you alright, poppet? You’re looking at me like you would with one of your test slimes.”

You exhaled deeply, “sorry, I suddenly thought of a hex code #093c0d person.”

Pulcinella closed his eyes.

“A dark green shade?”

“That’s right.”

“...”

With an unreadable yet deliberate face, Pulcinella fixed his gaze on you. Your unique perspective on others didn't seem to disturb your grandpups the way it did your parents. He is one of the select few who is aware of how you assign people's personalities through colors. Pulcinella raised his glasses further up before giving a sage-like nod. The moment he crossed his arms, you knew he understood what you were trying to express.

“So it’s a lover’s quarrel.”

“Yes, exactly.”

…

“Wait, what– NO!!! Pups, please stop assuming shit– things!!!”

Never mind— he is SO far off.

Why is he convinced that you’re dating that prick? What the hell did your mom tell him?!

“I heard that, poppet. And do not misunderstand, I think this is a good thing.”

Your uncle-grandfather cupped your cheeks and squished them between his fingers. Perhaps this is what people consider a wholesome grandpa-grandchild dynamic– but social norms should’ve also labeled this as domestic violence. His pinching hurts. Your clipped groans made him grin wider.

“After all, this means that you have seen his flaws and true character. What better way to break a couple up than a genuine argument?”

“PWUUUPS!!!”

Pulcinella pulled his hands away.

“I felt distraught when I heard you have given up your pursuit of civil engineering and chose a career in the Haravatat,” he sighed and took off his hat, holding it against his chest. “I was rooting for you, dear. I had faith in your aspirations. Even Lord Capitano found it upsetting to learn that the future engineer I frequently boasted about had become a lesser Lord Kusanali underling.”

You squirmed and rubbed your cheeks, staring at the ground.

Lord Capitano was not someone you often interacted with, but you knew that he had an eye for talent– and he sought after yours. Perhaps this is your ego talking, but it felt like even he believed you’re best suited for an engineering course too. Other than your grandpups and subsequently his recruit, Ajax, Lord Capitano was one of the Fatuis you respected.

Alhaitham truly crushed your dreams.

“I know, Pups…”

“You know what to do, right?”

You nodded solemnly, before looking him dead in the eye. Pulcinella can see your determination clear as day.

You breathed in.

“I’m going to commit arson.”

He patted your back, smiling.

“That’s my grandchild!”

Pulcinella tip-toed and ruffled your hair.

“Alright, this old man had given up. Just show grandpups where the ring is.”

“Her majesty the Tsaritsa’s sake– I already told you Pups– ALHAITHAM AND I ARE NOT DATING!!!”

It was an exceptionally hot evening in Sumeru City despite being far from the desert. You should be inside your apartment right now, studying the Dendro Vision book Alhaitham gave you but you’d rather be where you are now. It’s about to get warmer, yet you’d dare argue that both you and master architect Kaveh’s headache can compete with its 38°C average temperature.

“C’mon, please?”

“No, I’m not helping you burn Alhaitham’s house down.”

“What?! Why not?!”

“Damnit, (Y/n)– BECAUSE I LIVE THERE!!!”

“Oh, right.”

You flopped back to your seat, eyes rolling back, deflated.

Kaveh cried out in pain while lowering his head to the table. He somewhat resembled a dried-out raisin. He had a drinking binge the night before, so this isn't because he's not a morning person. Although you expressed regret for knocking on his (Alhaitham's) door, the architect never misses a chance to rant about his housemate. Kaveh's pain wasn't even close to how much he detested Alhaitham. Now here you both are, sitting outside Lambad’s Tavern like morons because you both forgot to bring your wallets.

Not a sight you’d expect from a master-of-all-trades (ex-)engineering student and a genius architect.

“Damn it…” You whined. “What else am I supposed to do now?”

“Await until Focalors passes her judgment,” he answered hoarsely.

In other words: curl up and die, probably.

“Yeah… Yeah, that sounds viable. Let me just go to Fontaine real quick– oh wait, I can’t, because some dumbass scribe paid the corps to keep me from reaching the borders.”

Kaveh chuckled, still caressing his headache, not caring how his messy and unwashed locks covered his eyes. You’d be surprised if he told you he didn’t just get out of bed. He appeared like he was ready to sleep for all eternity, or more accurately, Kaveh’s starting to look eerily similar to Layla. In terms of colors though, he’d still be a #ffda29 and not a #003153.

He sneered, “did the sun always look this bright, powerful, and oh-so hateful?”

“It wouldn’t look like that if you didn’t down the pitcher I left on the table last night, Kaveh.”

You both turned to look at the voice– rather, the abyss. Alhaitham stood behind you. Or at least, you think it’s him.

Okay, here’s the deal: you hate remembering his face.

You handle your memory much like a student would a personal bookshelf– you’ll occasionally take out the information you no longer wish to retain in favor of more useful and relevant ones. As a creature with longevity, an elf should be picky when it comes to memories. You believe your approach is in the same vein as Pulcinella disposing of “less valuable assets’' without hesitation. If there’s no point in having it, why carry the baggage? But there are at least two facts that you can easily recall about Alhaitham: it’s his voice and the color #093c0d.

In other words, he’s just a talking dark green slime in your eyes.

Which he considers a major step up, by the way. You went from ignoring him to recognizing his voice, to associating him with one color. That’s quite a development. A pathetically slow progression, but still a positive one.

“THERE YOU ARE, ALHAITHAM, YOU PRI–”

The man swiftly dodged his slap by crouching down. He honestly didn’t have to put in the effort when Kaveh’s attacks were sluggish.

“–CK! WHY’D YOU LABEL THE ALCOHOL AS WATER?!”

Tons of passersby stared at Kaveh as he flailed around, but they were quick to look away. It’s no longer a secret that he lives with the scribe. Everyone in Sumeru City knows about his tactless antics and none are deaf when it comes to his loud gripes about his housemate. Even so, you went up to him to soothe his worries and restore his reputation because not everyone understands he's not a bad person.

Alhaitham scoffed, glaring.

“I didn’t. The label said "Fire-Water.””

“WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES THAT MAKE?!”

“Fire-water? Oh.”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you connected the two dots.

That beverage from Snezhnaya is notorious for having a high alcohol content and is only known in Mondstadt as the drink Master Ragnvindr forbade exports of. As a quote-unquote "wine connoisseur," you were invited to one of his parties. Fortunately, you were able to warn Diluc of how potent it is firsthand– Kaveh? Not so much.

You snorted.

“Yeah, Kaveh, I hate to take Alhaitham’s side on this but this one is on you, friend.”

The blonde’s eyes widened, betrayed.

“HAH?!”

“Need I remind you that fire-water is an alcoholic beverage, Kaveh.” Alhaitham waved his hand, emphasizing his condescending tone. “Maybe if you listened to me instead of ranting about my work ethic, you would’ve known that I received it as a gift from a Fatui Harbinger.”

Your ears perked up. “From a Harbinger?”

Alhaitham smirked but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Hmm. I’m certain that you know him, assistant (L/n). His name is Pulcinella,” the scribe said. “He left me a note. He said he wishes that I drink to my heart’s content as a thank-you gift for hiring his grandchild. I wasn’t aware you have a kind grandfather.”

You smiled back, crookedly.

No. No, your uncle-grandfather DEFINITELY wanted to see Alhaitham in pain. He didn’t even bother giving him a bottle– he gave him a fucking leftover pitcher.

Alhaitham took your arm. Unfortunately, he’s taller than you with muscle strength you can’t compete with. You squirmed but resistance was futile. Doesn’t mean you can’t bite his arm off–

“Assistant (L/n)–”

You gritted your teeth. “Don’t touch me, sir.”

Alhaitham paused, processing how much emphasis you put into pronouncing the word “sir.”

“–I’ll be taking you away now.” He looked down on your friend and scoffed. “Kaveh, do try your best to not be a burden to Mx. (L/n) again.”

Kaveh clutched his head, still in pain.

Sorry, Kaveh. That drink and beating headache were not meant for you in the slightest. You made a mental note to make it up to him, but not today. You have a lot on your plate right now.

“Idiot. They’re the one that invited me here!”

“True–”

“I quite frankly don’t care,” Alhaitham spat coldly.

“From now on, refrain from having conversations with my assistant. Unless you’re prepared to face the consequences.”

“Do you remember the approximate damage multipliers an aggravate reaction causes?”

“Nope.”

“Tch. I just discussed this, I can’t believe you already forgot.”

“You think I forgot? Haha, hell no. I didn’t forget, I just wasn’t paying any attention.”

Alhaitham dragged you down a secluded area in the rainforests with a sword in hand. Quite frankly, you hoped he brought his weapon to kill you, but you’re well aware of what this is about.

This is a lesson straight out of a page of “Dendro Vision Qualifications 101: Normal Attack Patterns.” The Acting Grand Sage thinks that you should have at least enough fighting proficiency for you to start formally working for him. As for you? You think this whole charade is utterly meaningless.

Sometimes, you truly do wish you were born as a rock instead. Maybe then you would be able to perform the “gray-rock method” whenever Alhaitham starts his drivel about dendro visions. You bet you’d make a pretty good tombstone for your dead childhood friend if you were a rock. Being a rock is probably the nicest thing to be. You get to be something created from the Geo element– the element and vision you desired. And not dendro.

Anything but lame old dendro.

This is so stupid. You wanted a geo vision, damn it. What on earth did you do to make Rex Lapis spite you, and what kinda breakthrough did you accomplish to gain the Lesser Lord Kusanali’s favor instead?!

If only you got something that isn’t the same as Alhaitham’s vision. Maybe if you got an electro vision you’d be learning how to brandish a lance with the General Mahamatra instead. Unlike most people, you enjoy being in his prolonged company and dry jokes. You’ve exchanged letters with Cyno multiple times– but your friend’s on-the-spot puns are 10x funnier than the things he writes down. Of course, that’s only because his earnest delivery sells it.

“In this fighting stance, you can perform up to 4 consecutive attacks, dishing out dendro damage approximately every 2 seconds interval–”

You held up your Eye of Perception.

“Bold of you to assume I’ll use this vision.”

“–charge attacks on the other hand require a hefty amount of stami–”

You yawned, halting Alhaitham in the middle of his “lecture.”

There’s a reason why you chose an Eye of Perception, and that’s because, unlike most catalysts, it procures physical damage as well. With someone as petty as you, it’s only natural that you’d brandish a weapon that doesn’t rely too much on dendro reactions.

“Yeah, I’ll just hit the enemy with my catalyst. Like, aim and shoot, or maybe I’ll just go with blunt force. This eye of perception looks like it’s made of metal, it can probably dish out some physical damage–”

Alhaitham shifted forward. Your gentle yet insouciant voice forced him out of his momentum.

“(Y/n).”

“...Yes, sir?”

His gaze sharpened.

“Pay attention.”

You snorted. Was he trying to intimidate you?

You, an elf who lived longer than him? How arrogant. It was becoming clearer why Alhaitham never once had a girlfriend or boyfriend. Or maybe a genuine friend in general. His senior who happens to also be his housemate does not count.

“No thanks.” You laughed to yourself, barely containing your amusement. “I think I’m doing fine.”

“What do you expect will happen if you don’t listen to my instructions? Your unfailing indifference sickens me.” He sheathed his sword back. “Do I have to spell everything out? You’ll get injured in combat. You won’t be able to defend yourself from fungi, eremites, and other enemies on the prowl. All for what? Useless pride? Grow up. Accept that you got a dendro vision and be done with it.”

“Tch…” You know how you feel, but you do not have the strength to say it out loud.

What an impossible task. He’s telling you– the most stubborn person you know– to give up on your goals? Inconceivable. You bet he sees the mediocre majority as nothing more than defective pawns, and you’re well aware you belong in that lowly category.

To him, grief may as well be easy as breathing. For you, years had gone by and you could still hear their voice. The scribe knows nothing about tributes for the dead. 

Your old childhood friend beckons you back to the chasm. His voice comes once the dark rears in, reverbing his desperate pleas for a fitting grave. It’s a voice that twists around your chest like a knife. You can’t get their faces out of your memetic bookshelf, but it’s not as if you’re willing to dispose of them.

You didn’t want a dendro vision. 

You wanted a geo vision to construct mausoleums for your dead friends.

Alhaitham scowled.

“Fine. We’ll resume our lesson next week.”

He bumped into your shoulder as he walked by. For a split second, you’re reminded that your superior had longer eyelashes than you do. And it made the gesture more annoying.

Strange. 

Alhaitham wouldn’t normally let you off so easily…

Maybe he’s busy?

“If you’re so insistent on only utilizing physical attacks, be my guest. Next time, I will not back down a single step.” Alhaitham walked away with heavy feet, stamping the dirt with his heels.

The consequences of your actions began to sink in. You may have lived longer than Alhaitham, but needless to say, he had more experience in combat.

Admittedly, you may have done yourself a disservice by acting out… You huffed.

No, no way.

“What could possibly go wrong? He’s just a feeble scholar!”

Unsurprisingly, Alhaitham was not, in fact, a feeble scholar.

Thankfully you have the Eye of Perception at your disposal because the moment he found you walking towards Devantaka Mountain the following week, the bastard went for your jugular.

“What the fuck, Alhaitham?!”

You fired a single shot, aimed higher this time knowing that he would attempt to evade. Much like his actions with Kaveh last time, Alhaitham was quick to dodge that projectile. His timing is impeccable as he activated his vision.

#ff0e0e starts blaring in your line of sight. You’ve always trusted these colors— your instincts.

You’re in danger.

“Tch!”

You almost didn’t recognize that it was him. If he wasn’t breathing heavily, you would've mistaken him for an assassin. Alhaitham never made any unnecessary movements. His slashes were not done with the intent of harming you, but shepherding you to an appropriate trap. Your knee scraped against the grass and minuscule rocks. Prioritizing distance over attacks was a wrong move– he’s faster than anticipated. You gasped sharply as the scribe pinned you against a tree trunk–

… His scent caught your attention.

“A cicin mage’s perfume…?” You mumbled, eyes wide.

That didn’t seem right. Their perfume usually doesn’t smell this unpleasant and metallic.

Your ears drooped down as you realized this Alhaitham did not attack because he’s a lunatic, no. That malodorous stench was akin to a grandmother’s bittersweet husk.

This Alhaitham was under the influence of aphrodisiacs, and it is not something you can fault him for.

“What– What on earth happened?”

He twisted your arm slightly, not enough that’ll make you scream but just rough for a tiny yelp–

and that’s how he boldly claimed your lips.

You froze in horror, letting him take advantage of your plight. Alhaitham pulled away, panting slightly.

“F-Fuck…”

Alhaitham moaned as he slipped his tongue back inside. You tried to stop him but you yelped the moment his hand groped your thigh. His breath fanned your flustered skin as he moved to slither his arms around your waist, closing the already small distance between you two.

You weakly pulled back. The rainforest had never felt this humid before.

Something is truly off about his scent.

“L-Let go!!!” You hissed and punched his chest, completely forgetting your catalyst in your panic. “What the hell is wrong with you?!?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

He didn’t listen despite your physical protests. Alhaitham disgustingly crooned down and sloppily dabbed wet kisses down your neck. His saliva dripped over his shoulder, coating you in hopes that it would leave his trace.

It felt wrong. You felt dirty– like you were kissing an actual #093c0d slime.

“P-Please…” He whispered, his voice dropping dangerously weak and vulnerable. “H-Help me, (Y/n)…”

Your face flushed as you wiped the saliva that connected you both from your lips.

You’ve never heard Alhaitham beg before.

Is this really him?

His fistful grip on your clothes grew taut as desperation colored his knuckles white. You had never seen Alhaitham lose his cool the way he does now, and the broken sight in his eyes made you uneasy and uncertain.

He looked pathetic.

“Haitham, your…” your hand supported his neck and he hungrily leaned in to feel your touch. “Your heartbeat is loud.”

“I know,” he whimpered.

You bit your lip. You could sense his pulse going faster.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been kissed– or first anything. You’ve had your fair share of “soulmates” and “flings”, but those happened decades ago. Before you were mastering engineering, you were a freelance artist who’d had many affairs with humans and elves alike out of the undiagnosed emptiness that was grief. Up until Faruzan made you start a new leaf, you indulged in numerous vices, including wine and one-night stands. She was the closest a human could hope to understand the loneliness an elf would have.

Both your appearance give the illusion of youth, but your bones are held together by flesh older than this man. She would undoubtedly be angry with you as soon as she learns that you enabled Alhaitham's small rendezvous.

“Alhaitham, I’m more than a decade years older than you–” you squirmed.

“But I want you,” he groaned.

Those words felt so different when he was the one who said them. Nearly sinister.

“I know,” you said, but your voice doesn’t match the confidence you were meant to exude. “But this isn’t you, this is your hormones doing the talking. Where did the cicin mage attack you?”

“Between Pardis Dhyai and Yashna Monument”

“Between WHAT?!” You gawked. “That’s miles away from here!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!!!”

You yanked his shirt. It’s thin, yet surprisingly durable. The strength of the fabric is not what made you unnerved, but his stare.

He gazed at you as if you were his lifeline— as if you were the only thing that allowed him to breathe. Alhaitham’s hot breaths were shallow, fanning your face as you took note of how red his face, neck, and ears were. You noticed how he struggled to gulp— struggled to keep his composure. His bedroom eyes had not once diverted their attention away from you.

“It doesn't matter how far I ran. You were the one I wanted to see. You were the face that came to mind after getting poisoned."

You pretended not to hear that.

“Alhaitham, we need to get you to Tighnari.”

“He can’t help me.”

“The forest watcher can most certainly help you more than me.”

“You don’t know that.”

You don't want to hear him talk anymore, to be honest. You're horrified by how weak and inaudible his voice sounded.

“Why did you come to Avidya Forest all the way from there? Why not head straight to the city?”

“So many questions…” He irritably spat. “Just stop talking and kis–”

“I refuse,” you glared. “Why were you heading towards Port Ormos? Did you think I was going to help you get over this mess out of the goodness of my heart?”

Did he forget how much you loathe him?

“No. No, of course not.”

He chuckled, full of self-loathing.

“I know you hate me, (Y/n). I would hate myself too.”

You raised an eyebrow. Of course, he’s self-aware— you just didn’t expect him to say that out loud.

Alhaitham continued, “but I’m not the one at fault here.”

Defeated, he rested his head on your shoulder. To avoid having you look at his expression, Alhaitham cupped your back, running fingers through your scalp so that you may only look forward. His body pressed against yours firmly. There’s no possible way for you not to be wholly aware of how warm he was and how fast his heart was beating. 

It was distracting to know how much the poison affected someone like Alhaitham, whom you thought was damn near untouchable.

Awkwardly, you returned the favor and played with his hair. Alhaitham gasped softly, making you shiver as you realized how sensitive you are to his breathing from this position.

“And who would that be?” You asked quietly. “If your pride won’t let you seek Tighnari’s aid then since you’re here you might as well tell me everything, starting from the very beginning.”

“T-That won’t be necessary.”

“If we want to rule out who your true assailant is, then yes it is,” you answered. “I think this is what you call the process of elimination.”

Suddenly, he pulled away from you with his arms stretched out. Alhaitham still kept you pinned on the tree, but there’s more space for you now to move and see his face. 

Ah, you’ve nearly forgotten again.

Alhaitham has green-orange eyes.

“No need.”

He clicked his tongue.

“It was Pulcinella. Your grandfather sent a cicin mage in an attempt to seduce and assassinate me.”

… Oh.

You should’ve guessed. You really should’ve guessed that he was behind all this.

Instinctively, you tried to cover your mouth from shock, but he quickly grabbed them and pressed them back to the tree behind you again. He tightened his hold once more, making you wince.

“I didn’t mind at first because your grandfather reminded me of my own grandmother,” Alhaitham gritted his teeth. “Pulcinella—”

He bit his bottom lip, his seafoam eyes looking unstable and royally pissed.

“He’s not after me because of my position as the Acting Grand Sage. H-He was merely looking after you. His expression was one I recognized. It's a grandfather's love. I may not show empathy as frequently as my housemate would like, but at least I am conscious of how important family is. I don’t want you to have to arrange your grandparent’s funeral like I did.”

You’re not unaware of who Alhaitham’s grandmother was. At one point, you had befriended her back when she was out on a mission to acquire 1,000 books. To think that you’ll meet her grandson for the first time in college and that you’ll end up in a situation like this… you’re sure she would’ve never condoned any of this. She wouldn’t appreciate that her grandson was trying to fuck the elf that helped her build her small library.

This is wrong. 

Everything about this is wrong. From the age gap to the work power distance– it’s vile– 

You want to vomit.

“So— s-so what did you do?”

“I didn’t want to kill your grandfather in retaliation.”

“Yes, you’ve established that. You don’t usually beat around the bush— go back to being the Alhaitham I know and just get straight to the point, damn it!”

“I ended up tracking all of his people in Sumeru down.”

He chuckled lowly.

Your heart started racing as well. 

If his heart was beating out of excitement, yours were out of a rational fear that you wouldn’t get out of this unscathed and mentally sound.

“It’s laughable how his lackeys were so incompetent. If they listened to my lectures at all, they would’ve known how to defend themselves.”

“What… What the hell are you talking about?” 

There was nowhere to run. You’re trapped unless Alhaitham lets go of both your wrists. Your dilated eyes surveyed the woodland, but you weren't confident that, should the occasion arise, your shaky knees could put some distance between you and the scribe.

“Didn’t you notice? They were stalking us from the moment I was teaching you how to use your vision last week, and likely even before that.”

His face drew near and you strained your neck to hopefully maintain at least a hair of distance between both of your lips.

Alhaitham closed his eyes.

“Did you honestly think I’d postpone our practice due to your mild complaining? Don’t you understand how excruciating it is to be away from you for a week?”

He pressed his forehead against yours.

“But I had to do it. For us.”

“Where… Where were you when you were gone? What did you do to them?”

You didn’t want to ask.

You already know the answer. 

“When will you start thinking before you speak?”

With fears renewed, your body felt small underneath his gaze. He’s not even looking at you— his piercing green eyes weren’t even looking directly at your soul. You turned away and gazed at his left shoulder— shrieking.

Never in your 100+ years of life did you feel so stupid. Only now did you realize that it wasn’t just a cicin mage’s perfume you smelled earlier.

There was blood all over his coat.

“Stop screaming, (Y/n). I’ve finished the job and it’s high time you reward me, wouldn’t you agree?”

I wanted to draw Redacted for once. 20 min a quick draw. It's a meh

that's him that's my dad

By The Fractured Altar.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, codependency dialed up to the MAX setting, and Dottore shows up for a second so sorry about that in advance. Word count: 4.6k.

i.

The first time the Wanderer thinks he’s lost you, he learns that every moment of fear he ever experienced before paled in comparison.

He awakes with a start. Lying beneath a blanket of gleaming stars, his eyes are slow to adjust to the low lighting, the once roaring campfire calmed to a hush. Its surviving embers nearly rival the magnificence of the welkin above in their glow. An empty pail sits beside the concaving wood that once stood so proudly. From this, he assumes he fell asleep before you. You always made it a point to put out the campfire before you both turned in for the night. In the warmer seasons, the Wanderer didn’t mind; it wasn’t until autumn’s chill nipped at his cheeks that he questioned your reasoning.

Keep reading

ヤマです！Twitter、TikTokの次はTumblrにも手を出してみました…誰かが見てくれるといいな…👉👈

Why hello dear reader! First official post on my SAGAU series ;) So enjoy~ (PLEASE I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT JUST NOW AND FELT MY SOUL LEAVE MY BODY)

@still-dazai-simp-not-sorry you asked to be tagged in my posts so here ya go! Hope ya like it :)

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆, 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓.

𝑨𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂 𝒓𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆.

You open your eyes to a plain field, the grass gently tickling you awake. The sun shone its rays upon your form, not so harsh that it hurts your eyes. It was peaceful, yet you look around panicking at the unfamiliar surroundings. Certainly no one would expect to be thrown somewhere they don't recognize when the last thing they recall is a good slumber in bed.

Ever so slowly you take in the sight. Beautiful, yes, and you notice the gigantic tree of which you rest under. Peeking around it, you spot a very familiar statue. Your heart starts beating faster and you scrambled up to run towards it. Barbatos - no, Venti's Statue of The Seven. You were at Windrise. In Genshin, your beloved game.

Nothing had ever captivated you more. It felt so real. The rustling of leaves in the wind, the birds chirping away their melodies, and that warmth on your skin. The breeze and the warmth, it felt like it was cradling you. As if you were the most precious being in all the universe to them (and you are). You walk around, catching a glimpse of Mondstadt far off in the distance. Perhaps you've died, and your dreams came true after all. To be somewhere you held so dearly in your heart.

❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎•❥︎

Running. Fear. Breathlessness.

That's all you've been experiencing this whole day. Of course, you should've expected it. After all, why would your favourite characters- people-

welcome you with open arms? You were a stranger to them. But that's not what had you so...perplexed. All the Vision Bearers and the NPCs, were hunting you down for supposed sacrilege. Apparently, Genshin Impact had a "God of all Gods" and you looked like Them.

You didn't understand, there was never a God like that mentioned in the lore and it definitely seemed like an important aspect. Judging from the people's actions in their name. But you were born with this face. So, why is it you were branded an imposter? Why is it that you had committed the greatest sinful act against the "Creator"? Who even are They?

As your thoughts raced, your body collides into something, or rather someone. Resulting in you falling unceremoniously on your butt. You look up and see an oh so familiar ginger. Tartaglia, or more commonly known as Childe. He stares at your form on the ground. Slowly, the realization sinks into him, visible on his face.

"So, you're the imposter that's been running around. Unfortunately, Liyue won't be a safe haven for you either."

Hydro swirls around his arms as it takes shape into his iconic blades. Never in your life had you seen such pure bloodlust in someone until today. You should run, you know this. He'll hurt you like all the others. But you stay on the ground, helpless and hoping for a quick death.

You close your eyes, anticipating for pain. Yet, all you felt was an unnatural coldness washing over you. Heels clacked on the stone harbor's ground as it approaches both you and Childe. You open your eyes to see La Signora, her ice encasing Childe's body up to his neck. She glares at him before kneeling to you, a gentle smile so out of place.

Wait- kneeling?

"Your Grace, I sincerely apologize for this buffoon's impulsive actions. I thought by spending months in the abyss he would recognize you by now."

Signora wrapped her arms around your waist as she continued snapping at Childe for what he'd done. Her arms. Even with gloves it was ice cold. Right now though, there was a certain warmth to it you just couldn't resist. You were still confused as to why she had called you "Your Grace" but her gentle caresses calmed you a little too well.

Signora's and Childe's back and forth argument start to fade out. Mutterings of "gold blood" and "imposter" turned into silence. Black dots start tainting your vision as you start going limp. You don't know why, but you utter Signora's name as you slip into unconsciousness.

"Rosalyne..."