Hihi so a couple people have asked for a pattern for Mr Crawling, so I thought posting a link to the pattern would be easier for everyone!
Things to note:
- The pattern was originally for a standing doll, I slightly modified it so I can lay him flat as well with his arms out like a superman pose.
- I personally didnt make the neck insert in the head as I didn't finish watching the tutorial I was following and was planning to just make him as a head only 😅
- For the blood on his face I used eyeshadow before I glued on his hair.
- I used Fabric Glue to attach his hair to his head.
- His hair strands ended up being a bit too many to lay nicely on his head so you might want to adjust it to 24 instead and that might lie more nicely but thats not tested so try at your own risk!
I think thats about it for notes! I am still making his clothes (lost a battle with the sewing machine so its back to crocheting it I go) but I will post an updated shot when I'm done! HAVE A PIC OF HIM AND HIS ORANGE HAT IN THE MEANTIME 🫶🏻
Have fun making your own Mr Crawling! Tag me if you do use the pattern! I wanna see all the little Crawlings you guys end up making!
Imma tag the two people who asked! @nymphglitch @professionallylesbian
Genuinely knowing what we know about headliner, the things she has said and done, knowing she is vile and that even Jungkook doesn't like her and is uncomfortable. HOW does she still have a platform? Why do people still like, share and save her photos? There are SO many fansites that are GOOD. AND THAT THE BOYS LIKE. Jungkook freaking poses for BnW basically. God I can't stand headliner, how does she keep getting tickets?!! UGH like truly, the comparison?! Anyone supporting or defending her at this point is truly someone I will never understand
Scam alert!! Please read this and reblog to spread awareness!!
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Sorry to disturb y'all but the person below is copying and pasting other people's works to replace their placed links with virus ones/ links that lead to questionable sites
You'll find these posts under JJK x reader tags usually ←_←
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guys i'm pretty sure it's common sense that you SHOULDN'T glamorize rape. do people GENUINELY not know that?
i stumbled upon a wukula x fem!omaticaya reader fic by m9yaa, and i wanted to check it out. little did i know that my eyes had skipped over the "dubious consent themes", and thought it would be an enemies to lovers fic or something. WELL TICKLE MY FIDDLE BECAUSE Y/N WAS STRAIGHT UP GETTING RAPED.
i will now do a re-enactment of the EXACT lines that appeared in that story:
"your body has already surrendered to him, even if your mind struggles to follow." (wukula says)
"i don't want this" (y/n says, REPEATEDLY THROUGHOUT THE STORY BTW)
"your mouth says no, but your body.. your body is shaking yawne." (wukula says)
"your body knows what it wants, even if you won't admit it." (wukula says)
hey so that's actually rape. like those are classic lines of someone who is actively taking advantage of a person who has clearly expressed they aren't interested in sexual intercourse.
i get the mangkwan are freaky and all, but ur brain must be rlly scrambled if ur writing something like THAT. i got blocked after commenting "im confused... isn't this straight up rape? why are we glamorizing this?", which confused me even MORE.
why ARE you glamorizing rape? when people have weird kinks, idgaf if BOTH PARTIES are into it. this is straight up someone being taken advantage of.
YES I KNOW it's just a random fanfic on the internet. BUT it's still a problem. i am hating on @m9yaa because the decision to write, review, and post that was so fucking weird and i needed to point it out myself since the comments on her page seemed to be eating it up.
when you put that kind of work onto the internet, you're setting a standard that (doing the act of)/(enjoying) rape is okay! which is ISNT. by blocking me, you essentially admit that you are glamorizing rape, and you can't get it through your thick fucking skull that its WRONG TO DO SO.
im gonna post rants every time i see bs like this because i STAY hating on total losers. and i rlly do hope m9yaa sees this and reflects on her actions! you're an imbecile, and you should see a psychiatrist if you think otherwise. don't be a fucking loser! (,,•᷄ࡇ•᷅ ,,)
rinny's NOTES💌: hello👋👋👋👋 just something i whipped out on my phone.
You raised a brow at the caretaker’s words as you shifted your son into your arms.
“He’s pretty shy, isn’t he?” she said warmly.
“What do you mean?” you asked, the comment catching you off guard.
The caretaker smiled at the boy, leaning down to meet his gaze. “Oh, he’s just very quiet, even around the other kids. But he’s the most obedient, sweetest boy I’ve ever met.”
Your son pressed his cheek against your shoulder, small fingers curling into your shirt. You chuckled, brushing a hand over his hair. “Really? That’s surprising. At home he talks our ears off. Poor Xavier couldn’t close his eyes the other night because someone wouldn’t stop explaining dinosaurs and sharks.”
The caretaker laughed, eyes soft. “Is that so? Maybe he just saves all his words for you two. That’s a sign he feels safest with his family.”
You smiled, hugging your son closer as he peeked shyly at her before hiding again. “Guess we’re his favorite audience.”
You bid your goodbyes to the caretaker, heading home with a piece of news you hadn’t expected to hear today.
The drive was quiet, your son resting against the passenger seat, eyelids heavy with sleep. By the time you carried him inside, he clung to you like a little koala, mumbling about animal documentaries and snacks. You smiled, settling him onto the couch with his favorite blankie tucked around him.
The house felt emptier without Xavier—his coat missing from the hook, his voice absent from the rooms. You were just about to start dinner when your phone buzzed.
“Daddy!” your son squealed, suddenly wide awake, scrambling across the cushions as you answered the call.
Xavier’s face appeared on the screen, a little grainy from the connection but still carrying that familiar warmth. His smile widened at the sight of his son.
“Hi, buddy. Did you do okay at the caretaker’s today?”
Your son nodded vigorously, silver locks bouncing. “Yeah!” he said brightly, pressing his nose close to the screen.
You laughed, adjusting the phone so Xavier could see both of you. “You won’t believe what the caretaker said about him today.”
Xavier tilted his head, curiosity sparking. “Oh? What did she say?”
“Apparently, this little guy is the quietest kid in the group. Can you believe that?”
Xavier raised a brow, amused. “Quiet? Him? Last night he gave me a full lecture. I think I know more about the entire plotline of SpongeBob than I do about crickets now.”
Your son piped up absentmindedly, “I like crickets. And SpongeBob.”
Xavier chuckled, leaning closer to the camera. “I know.”
The boy melted back into your embrace, drowsiness returning. Xavier’s gaze softened through the screen, lingering on the two of you.
“I’ll be home soon,” he promised gently. “Keep Mommy company until then, alright?”
Your son nodded, eyes heavy. “Okay.”
You pressed a kiss to his hair as he clung to you. “We’ll hold down the fort. Just hurry back to your favorite chatterbox.”
Xavier’s grin widened, though his eyes betrayed the ache of distance. “Always.”
l word count: 999 l smut, piv, use of 'good girl' and 'princess' l
When Xavier came home after almost a week away, busy with wanderers and whatever else his secrets drove him to investigate, you expected your boyfriend to be tired and pouty. You were ready for his bottom lip and big blue eyes to do most of the talking before tucking him into bed.
This time there was something different about him that you noticed the second he walked through the door. The pout looked the same, but his eyes were heavier, darker - a deeper shade of blue that felt less tranquil and more like a vast ocean that could swallow you whole with a single gaze. Xavier wasn't in the mood for sleep. He was battling a hunger only you could satisfy, restraint fraying as impatience surged. With every deep inhale he felt like he could taste your soul on the tip of his tongue and he was so hungry. . .
Desire courses through your veins, heating your entire body before settling at your core where the warmth blooms into a great fire. You enjoy seeing him like this, knowing that you're the only thing he wants, the only one who can truly satisfy and satiate his hunger. So sweet and innocent, until he isn't - and you didn't mind the wolf shedding his woolen coat to take you whatever way he wanted.
"Do you find pleasure in knowing you're the only one who gets to see me like this?" He murmurs against the back of your neck, before letting his hands run up and down your naked body. They wander along the deep arch of your spine, settling on your rear with a firm squeeze.
Xavier knows you're barely able to string together a coherent sentence when your cheek is pressed against the mattress and his hands hold your hips in place so that he can have total control over your body when he inevitably starts thrusting into you in a state of frenzy.
"That you're the only one who'll ever truly know all of me?" He doesn't expect an answer. Doesn't really need one either. All he needs is the sinful sounds you make when he pushes his hard length inside you.
"Ohh, fuck, Xavier," you whimper, succumbing to the familiar stretch of his cock sinking into your warmth. He starts slow on purpose. Taking his time to gauge how badly you might have missed him. To see how needy you are and how long it'll take before you're begging him to move faster.
"Fuh-uck, you feel so good. So perfect."
"Ah, Xavier, more, please," you mumble, before trying to sneak your hand up between your legs. Xavier sees, of course, and before your fingers reach their target, he's got his own pressing on your spine, deepening the arch of your back.
Even in the dim light and lust driven haze, Xavier can see the subtle smile that plays on your lips in between those delicious moans and cries of pleasure. It almost makes him want to laugh. His beautiful starlight, smiling so prettily. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who yearned for a feast.
Xavier isn't cruel. After a few more deep thrusts accompanied by those addicting melodies spilling from your lips, he takes his own hand across your belly and down in between your legs. The lightest touch to your clit has you seeing stars - or is that his evol activating?
His finger circles your clit, wet and warm. He'll need to taste you properly later. A meal as exquisite as this one deserves an equally delicious desert. Xavier feels you tightening around him already, he sees the grip on your pillow shift as your fingers dig into it further. Too soon, he thinks. But, in his mind, the night has only just begun.
"You're close, aren't you? Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?" His voice is deep, dark and almost commanding, yet it feels like fine silk trickling down your spine.
To the best of your ability, you nod. Although the mattress hinders your movement a little, Xavier sees how hard you're trying to live up to the title he had granted you.
"My good girl, so - ah - fucking beautiful."
Your moans grow louder and more desperate with each thrust. Your thighs start to shake, threatening to give in and send you toppling forward. Xavier won't let that happen. He takes the hand that isn't performing magic tricks on your clit and hoists you up so your back presses against his front. He keeps you steady with his hand massaging your breast, a finger teasing your nipple.
Your arms reach back searching for something to hold. One wraps around his side while the other goes up the back of his neck. His mouth finds your shoulder, neck, jaw, spreading lazy kisses and little bites wherever he can reach, never slowing the movement of his hips.
You're so fucking close, all you need to finally come is -
"Fuck starlight, you're so beautiful, so perfect," he breathlessly whispers, lips never leaving your skin. "All mine. My perfect princess, my good girl."
With his fingers on your clit, cock buried deep, his lips on your skin and words drenched in devotion - you snap. Xavier keeps rutting into you until an uncharacteristically needy sounding whimper is pressed into the side of your neck as he too succumbs to pleasure. The sound is enough to feel that familiar flutter in your lower abdomen once more.
Gentle and caring, Xavier guides you down onto the mattress. Once safely positioned on your back, he scatters kisses all over your face, so light they tickle. The kisses begin traveling down your neck and chest, pausing at your nipples.
"Xavier, what -"
"Shh, I'm not done with you yet," he pouts, gazing up at you whilst nuzzling the inside of your thigh, the most innocent expression painted on his face. "You won't deny me a taste, right?"
You're completely powerless against that face, and Xavier is very much aware of that fact. . .
AN: Idk what happened. This was not what I had in mind when I made the header, it was supposed to be fluffy, but here, take it. Thanks for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! If anyone is interested in being added to the taglist, let me know!
cw. found family, soft angst, fluff, emotional vulnerability, past trauma, body adjustment issues (durin), established relationship (reader x wanderer)
an. aaaaa i really tried my best to make this lore accurate so sorry in advance if there are any mistakes TT i only read up on durin’s lore online since i wasn’t playing when simulanka came out :(( but i did my best !! also credits to @stoopycake for the idea — i love xia sm
you live in mondstadt — not in the city walls, but just far enough out that the breeze feels gentler and the birds aren’t afraid to nest near your windowsill.
the mornings smell like pine and the sky is always soft. sometimes you think the wind sings to you. sometimes you think it’s lonely.
it’s quiet here. still. normal.
you like it that way.
wanderer doesn’t. not really.
he complains every time he visits — about the wind, about the noise, about how your bed is too soft and your pillows are too fluffy and your kettle takes too long to boil. he scowls at the birds. calls the squirrels in your garden nosy little pests. grumbles about the dirt road, the lack of streetlamps, the way mondstadt’s air always smells like freedom.
but he still shows up.
always unannounced. always frowning. always staying longer than he says he will.
he doesn’t knock. he doesn’t warn you. he doesn’t say goodbye when he leaves.
you never ask him to stay.
you never ask him to leave, either.
you’re not loud about being together. you don’t hold hands in public. you don’t say things like i love you or i missed you.
but he’ll let you fix his scarf when it slips.
he lets you sit close when he’s pretending not to fall asleep.
he lets you call him kuni, even though no one else is allowed to.
and sometimes he looks at you like the whole world is loud except when you’re around.
it’s a quiet thing. gentle. real.
you thought you were done with surprises.
and then albedo showed up.
you’re half-awake, halfway through tea, and not expecting a knock at your door — much less one from the chief alchemist of the knights of favonius, with a boy standing beside him who looks like he’s been stitched together from stardust and forgotten lore.
he’s got hot pink eyes, tousled purple hair, two huge black horns, and a pair of even larger wings trailing behind him like a shadow. barefoot. blinking. a little confused.
“this is durin,” albedo says, like this is normal. “i’ve granted him a human form. he’s still adjusting.”
“…okay?” you say slowly, eyes flicking between the alchemist and the boy with wings too big for your hallway.
“he remembers the wanderer. i thought he’d be most comfortable here for now.”
you glance over your shoulder, where kuni is sitting at your kitchen table, nursing tea he insists he doesn’t like. he stares back at you with a silent, horrified expression.
his cup is halfway to his mouth. it never makes it there.
“no,” he says immediately. “don’t even think about it.”
“he called you hat guy,” albedo adds helpfully. “he likes you.”
durin beams. “hat guy!!”
wanderer looks like he’s just been sentenced to death.
you’re in the grass behind your cottage. it’s warm. the sun’s high and mondstadt’s breeze rolls gently through the trees, rustling the tall grass, brushing against your skin like a sigh.
durin is trying to walk.
emphasis on trying.
he’s all limbs and feathers and flailing wings, wobbling with every step like a newborn deer.
“nope—wrong foot—careful!”
you lunge forward just in time to stop him from faceplanting into a patch of dandelions. his wings flap once, awkwardly, and throw him off balance again.
“this body’s weird,” he grumbles, flopping into your arms like a very large, very annoyed toddler. “i used to fly.”
“you also used to be made of blocks,” kuni says flatly from a few feet away, leaning against the fence with his arms crossed and a distinct i told you this was a terrible idea look on his face. “get over it.”
durin pouts. “you’re mean.”
“you’re uncoordinated.”
“you’re rude.”
“you’re loud.”
“you’re wearing too many layers.”
wanderer’s eye twitches. “i swear to—”
“okay, okay,” you cut in, holding up your hands before the dragon child and your semi-boyfriend start trading elemental attacks. “let’s focus, yeah? deep breath, durin.”
he mimics you — badly. but his chest rises and falls, and that’s enough.
“left foot,” you say gently. “good. now the other one. you’ve got this.”
he stumbles, wobbles, wings twitching nervously behind him — but stays upright.
his eyes light up, glowing like a sky full of comets.
“look!! hat guy!! i did it!!”
wanderer grimaces like the name physically hurts him. “stop calling me that.”
“but you have a hat,” durin says, very seriously.
“so does half the population of mondstadt.”
“but you are the hat guy. it’s different.”
wanderer mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like i’m going back to sumeru.
you smile. “no you’re not.”
he doesn’t argue.
and the breeze is still gentle.
and the birds still sing.
and for now — just for now — the world is quiet.
the storm rolls in around midnight. soft at first. like a lullaby.
the kind of lullaby that hums through the hills, brushing gently against the trees, coaxing flowers into sleep.
then louder.
wind thrashes the branches against your cottage walls like angry fingers. thunder cracks the sky open from end to end, sudden and sharp, a divine warning. rain batters your windows in relentless, uneven patterns — too erratic to be music. too alive to be background noise.
you stir beneath your blankets. the warmth of sleep still clings to your skin like steam. for a moment you think you’re dreaming — until a weight thuds against the floorboards and the softest yelp breaks through the thunder.
you sit up with a jolt.
“...durin?” your voice is rough, half-dream.
there’s a shape on the floor. soggy. awkward. unmoving.
“the sky’s mad at me,” comes the muffled reply.
your eyes adjust slowly. the moon is buried behind clouds, but the occasional flicker of lightning through the window gives you pieces — wings soaked and dragging, the tips curled in like wilted petals. horns bumped askew from colliding with your doorframe. a trembling form hunched over like it’s trying to disappear into itself.
he’s wet. and cold. and afraid.
“i… i didn’t mean to make it rain,” durin says quickly, his voice rising in panic. “i didn’t do anything. i swear i didn’t! i didn’t break anything or yell or fly or—”
“durin,” you say, gentle but firm. “storms are normal.”
his eyes glow faintly in the dark. confused. uncertain.
“really?” he breathes.
you nod. “really. mondstadt gets a lot of them. especially in spring. it’s just… how things are.”
he glances at the window like it might suddenly turn and glare at him.
“…it’s loud,” he says.
“i know.”
“it wasn’t like this in simulanka. the storms there were quiet. but not in a good way.”
you don’t ask.
“do you want to sleep here tonight?” you offer.
he doesn't even pause. “yes please.”
you leave your room together. he follows you like a shadow made of feathers and guilt. the floor creaks beneath both your steps. you set up the couch. give him every blanket you can find. even the ugly one from albedo’s failed attempt at knitting.
durin doesn’t complain. he just piles them around himself until he’s almost entirely hidden. only his horns and a few strands of messy hair peek out.
you settle onto the couch nearby, your arm draped lazily over the edge, fingers brushing the fringe of his blanket.
there’s silence for a long while, save for the occasional rumble of thunder and the soft, erratic beat of the rain.
then:
“…does the sky hate me too?”
you open your eyes slowly. look down. he’s curled tighter now, one wing tucked beneath his chin like a pillow, the other twitching with every crack of thunder.
your heart clenches.
you reach down. ruffle his hair gently.
“no, durin. the sky doesn’t hate you.”
he nods once. small. unsure.
but he doesn’t argue.
he doesn’t cry either.
he just lies there. wide-eyed. listening.
he doesn’t sleep until long after you do.
kuni finds you both like that the next morning.
you, slumped half-off the couch with your hand still hanging down — fingers barely brushing durin’s hair.
durin, curled into himself in a pit of warmth and safety, his wing twitching slightly every now and then. not from fear. just dreaming.
kuni doesn’t speak. doesn’t frown.
he just sighs quietly. walks past you.
comes back a minute later with an extra pillow. he slides it beneath your back without a word, tucks the blanket closer around your shoulders, and walks away again.
later, he sits beside you on the porch.
the sky is still pale and grey, like it’s not quite sure whether it’s done grieving. the rain has stopped, but the wind is soft and damp, leaving the air full of silence and the smell of wet pine.
“he was scared of a thunderstorm,” kuni mutters, staring out at the field.
you sip your tea. “he’s still adjusting. albedo said his emotions might be unstable until his body fully settles.”
“he’s not even a week old,” kuni scoffs.
“technically he’s centuries old,” you remind him.
kuni huffs.
durin is in the garden again. crouched in the tall grass. having what appears to be a one-sided conversation with a squirrel who is either very brave or very stupid.
“do you remember what he was like in simulanka?” you ask.
kuni shifts beside you.
“…yeah. a lot bigger. a lot louder.”
“he just wanted friends.”
“he nearly crushed five people trying to hug them.”
“he’s better now.”
“he’s different.” kuni pauses. then softer, “but he’s still loud.”
you look out at durin. now waving goodbye to the squirrel.
“…he’s trying.”
kuni doesn’t say anything. but when you pass him a cup of warm tea, he doesn’t roll his eyes or call it too sweet.
he just drinks.
you hear the crash from the kitchen.
“i was reading!” durin insists. “it’s not my fault your shelves are too narrow and my wings are too graceful!”
“graceful?” kuni repeats flatly, standing over the wreckage.
durin puffs up. “yes. like a majestic storm-bird.”
“you knocked over an entire shelf.”
“a majestic shelf.”
you kneel beside him. pages scattered everywhere. diagrams torn open like secrets spilling out. albedo’s personal collection of handwritten notes on the internal structure of abyssal anomalies is now confetti on your rug.
“sorry,” durin says again, softer this time. “i didn’t mean—i just thought… if i knew more about my body, maybe i’d understand why i feel so weird in it.”
you look at him.
at his oversized limbs. his unsure hands. the feathers he keeps pulling from his sleeves like they don’t belong there.
he’s trying to hold himself smaller. like if he curls in enough, he won’t knock anything else over.
“…i know i scared people in simulanka,” he mumbles. “and mondstadt too.”
you don’t interrupt.
he fiddles with a loose feather.
“albedo says i’m not dangerous anymore. but i still feel big. even when i’m small. like… something might break if i move wrong. or laugh too hard. or exist too loudly.”
he hugs his knees.
“what if they were right? what if i am a monster?”
you don’t get a chance to respond.
a shadow falls over you both.
kuni.
he’s standing in the doorway. scarf half-on, expression unreadable, eyes dark and narrowed in that way that always means he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to be.
“…you’re not,” kuni says quietly.
durin jerks his head up, startled.
“you’re annoying,” kuni says, stepping closer. “and clumsy. and loud. and kind of stupid.”
durin frowns. “is that a compliment?”
“take it or leave it.”
“…i’ll take it.”
you smile.
kuni sighs and rubs the back of his neck.
“…you scared me too, you know. in simulanka.”
durin blinks.
“but you stopped,” kuni mutters. “you changed. you chose to change. even though no one asked you to. even though everyone was scared of you. that counts for something.”
he kneels beside him, eye-level.
“you’re not a monster, durin. just a dumb dragon with bad aim and a weird sense of humor.”
durin stares.
then he throws himself into a hug.
“WHAT ARE YOU—GET OFF—”
“YOU DON’T HATE ME!!”
“I NEVER SAID THAT!!”
“HAT GUY LOVES ME!!!”
“SHUT UP!!”
you laugh. despite everything — the mess, the broken shelves, the tea that now has feathers in it again — you laugh.
the sky is still grey, but softer now.
and maybe this isn’t just a house full of misfits. maybe this is something healing. maybe this is something like home.
credits to @cafekitsune for the animated border lines!
cw. found family, soft angst, fluff, emotional vulnerability, past trauma, body adjustment issues (durin), established relationship (reader x wanderer)
an. aaaaa i really tried my best to make this lore accurate so sorry in advance if there are any mistakes TT i only read up on durin’s lore online since i wasn’t playing when simulanka came out :(( but i did my best !! also credits to @stoopycake for the idea — i love xia sm
you live in mondstadt — not in the city walls, but just far enough out that the breeze feels gentler and the birds aren’t afraid to nest near your windowsill.
the mornings smell like pine and the sky is always soft. sometimes you think the wind sings to you. sometimes you think it’s lonely.
it’s quiet here. still. normal.
you like it that way.
wanderer doesn’t. not really.
he complains every time he visits — about the wind, about the noise, about how your bed is too soft and your pillows are too fluffy and your kettle takes too long to boil. he scowls at the birds. calls the squirrels in your garden nosy little pests. grumbles about the dirt road, the lack of streetlamps, the way mondstadt’s air always smells like freedom.
but he still shows up.
always unannounced. always frowning. always staying longer than he says he will.
he doesn’t knock. he doesn’t warn you. he doesn’t say goodbye when he leaves.
you never ask him to stay.
you never ask him to leave, either.
you’re not loud about being together. you don’t hold hands in public. you don’t say things like i love you or i missed you.
but he’ll let you fix his scarf when it slips.
he lets you sit close when he’s pretending not to fall asleep.
he lets you call him kuni, even though no one else is allowed to.
and sometimes he looks at you like the whole world is loud except when you’re around.
it’s a quiet thing. gentle. real.
you thought you were done with surprises.
and then albedo showed up.
you’re half-awake, halfway through tea, and not expecting a knock at your door — much less one from the chief alchemist of the knights of favonius, with a boy standing beside him who looks like he’s been stitched together from stardust and forgotten lore.
he’s got hot pink eyes, tousled purple hair, two huge black horns, and a pair of even larger wings trailing behind him like a shadow. barefoot. blinking. a little confused.
“this is durin,” albedo says, like this is normal. “i’ve granted him a human form. he’s still adjusting.”
“…okay?” you say slowly, eyes flicking between the alchemist and the boy with wings too big for your hallway.
“he remembers the wanderer. i thought he’d be most comfortable here for now.”
you glance over your shoulder, where kuni is sitting at your kitchen table, nursing tea he insists he doesn’t like. he stares back at you with a silent, horrified expression.
his cup is halfway to his mouth. it never makes it there.
“no,” he says immediately. “don’t even think about it.”
“he called you hat guy,” albedo adds helpfully. “he likes you.”
durin beams. “hat guy!!”
wanderer looks like he’s just been sentenced to death.
you’re in the grass behind your cottage. it’s warm. the sun’s high and mondstadt’s breeze rolls gently through the trees, rustling the tall grass, brushing against your skin like a sigh.
durin is trying to walk.
emphasis on trying.
he’s all limbs and feathers and flailing wings, wobbling with every step like a newborn deer.
“nope—wrong foot—careful!”
you lunge forward just in time to stop him from faceplanting into a patch of dandelions. his wings flap once, awkwardly, and throw him off balance again.
“this body’s weird,” he grumbles, flopping into your arms like a very large, very annoyed toddler. “i used to fly.”
“you also used to be made of blocks,” kuni says flatly from a few feet away, leaning against the fence with his arms crossed and a distinct i told you this was a terrible idea look on his face. “get over it.”
durin pouts. “you’re mean.”
“you’re uncoordinated.”
“you’re rude.”
“you’re loud.”
“you’re wearing too many layers.”
wanderer’s eye twitches. “i swear to—”
“okay, okay,” you cut in, holding up your hands before the dragon child and your semi-boyfriend start trading elemental attacks. “let’s focus, yeah? deep breath, durin.”
he mimics you — badly. but his chest rises and falls, and that’s enough.
“left foot,” you say gently. “good. now the other one. you’ve got this.”
he stumbles, wobbles, wings twitching nervously behind him — but stays upright.
his eyes light up, glowing like a sky full of comets.
“look!! hat guy!! i did it!!”
wanderer grimaces like the name physically hurts him. “stop calling me that.”
“but you have a hat,” durin says, very seriously.
“so does half the population of mondstadt.”
“but you are the hat guy. it’s different.”
wanderer mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like i’m going back to sumeru.
you smile. “no you’re not.”
he doesn’t argue.
and the breeze is still gentle.
and the birds still sing.
and for now — just for now — the world is quiet.
the storm rolls in around midnight. soft at first. like a lullaby.
the kind of lullaby that hums through the hills, brushing gently against the trees, coaxing flowers into sleep.
then louder.
wind thrashes the branches against your cottage walls like angry fingers. thunder cracks the sky open from end to end, sudden and sharp, a divine warning. rain batters your windows in relentless, uneven patterns — too erratic to be music. too alive to be background noise.
you stir beneath your blankets. the warmth of sleep still clings to your skin like steam. for a moment you think you’re dreaming — until a weight thuds against the floorboards and the softest yelp breaks through the thunder.
you sit up with a jolt.
“...durin?” your voice is rough, half-dream.
there’s a shape on the floor. soggy. awkward. unmoving.
“the sky’s mad at me,” comes the muffled reply.
your eyes adjust slowly. the moon is buried behind clouds, but the occasional flicker of lightning through the window gives you pieces — wings soaked and dragging, the tips curled in like wilted petals. horns bumped askew from colliding with your doorframe. a trembling form hunched over like it’s trying to disappear into itself.
he’s wet. and cold. and afraid.
“i… i didn’t mean to make it rain,” durin says quickly, his voice rising in panic. “i didn’t do anything. i swear i didn’t! i didn’t break anything or yell or fly or—”
“durin,” you say, gentle but firm. “storms are normal.”
his eyes glow faintly in the dark. confused. uncertain.
“really?” he breathes.
you nod. “really. mondstadt gets a lot of them. especially in spring. it’s just… how things are.”
he glances at the window like it might suddenly turn and glare at him.
“…it’s loud,” he says.
“i know.”
“it wasn’t like this in simulanka. the storms there were quiet. but not in a good way.”
you don’t ask.
“do you want to sleep here tonight?” you offer.
he doesn't even pause. “yes please.”
you leave your room together. he follows you like a shadow made of feathers and guilt. the floor creaks beneath both your steps. you set up the couch. give him every blanket you can find. even the ugly one from albedo’s failed attempt at knitting.
durin doesn’t complain. he just piles them around himself until he’s almost entirely hidden. only his horns and a few strands of messy hair peek out.
you settle onto the couch nearby, your arm draped lazily over the edge, fingers brushing the fringe of his blanket.
there’s silence for a long while, save for the occasional rumble of thunder and the soft, erratic beat of the rain.
then:
“…does the sky hate me too?”
you open your eyes slowly. look down. he’s curled tighter now, one wing tucked beneath his chin like a pillow, the other twitching with every crack of thunder.
your heart clenches.
you reach down. ruffle his hair gently.
“no, durin. the sky doesn’t hate you.”
he nods once. small. unsure.
but he doesn’t argue.
he doesn’t cry either.
he just lies there. wide-eyed. listening.
he doesn’t sleep until long after you do.
kuni finds you both like that the next morning.
you, slumped half-off the couch with your hand still hanging down — fingers barely brushing durin’s hair.
durin, curled into himself in a pit of warmth and safety, his wing twitching slightly every now and then. not from fear. just dreaming.
kuni doesn’t speak. doesn’t frown.
he just sighs quietly. walks past you.
comes back a minute later with an extra pillow. he slides it beneath your back without a word, tucks the blanket closer around your shoulders, and walks away again.
later, he sits beside you on the porch.
the sky is still pale and grey, like it’s not quite sure whether it’s done grieving. the rain has stopped, but the wind is soft and damp, leaving the air full of silence and the smell of wet pine.
“he was scared of a thunderstorm,” kuni mutters, staring out at the field.
you sip your tea. “he’s still adjusting. albedo said his emotions might be unstable until his body fully settles.”
“he’s not even a week old,” kuni scoffs.
“technically he’s centuries old,” you remind him.
kuni huffs.
durin is in the garden again. crouched in the tall grass. having what appears to be a one-sided conversation with a squirrel who is either very brave or very stupid.
“do you remember what he was like in simulanka?” you ask.
kuni shifts beside you.
“…yeah. a lot bigger. a lot louder.”
“he just wanted friends.”
“he nearly crushed five people trying to hug them.”
“he’s better now.”
“he’s different.” kuni pauses. then softer, “but he’s still loud.”
you look out at durin. now waving goodbye to the squirrel.
“…he’s trying.”
kuni doesn’t say anything. but when you pass him a cup of warm tea, he doesn’t roll his eyes or call it too sweet.
he just drinks.
you hear the crash from the kitchen.
“i was reading!” durin insists. “it’s not my fault your shelves are too narrow and my wings are too graceful!”
“graceful?” kuni repeats flatly, standing over the wreckage.
durin puffs up. “yes. like a majestic storm-bird.”
“you knocked over an entire shelf.”
“a majestic shelf.”
you kneel beside him. pages scattered everywhere. diagrams torn open like secrets spilling out. albedo’s personal collection of handwritten notes on the internal structure of abyssal anomalies is now confetti on your rug.
“sorry,” durin says again, softer this time. “i didn’t mean—i just thought… if i knew more about my body, maybe i’d understand why i feel so weird in it.”
you look at him.
at his oversized limbs. his unsure hands. the feathers he keeps pulling from his sleeves like they don’t belong there.
he’s trying to hold himself smaller. like if he curls in enough, he won’t knock anything else over.
“…i know i scared people in simulanka,” he mumbles. “and mondstadt too.”
you don’t interrupt.
he fiddles with a loose feather.
“albedo says i’m not dangerous anymore. but i still feel big. even when i’m small. like… something might break if i move wrong. or laugh too hard. or exist too loudly.”
he hugs his knees.
“what if they were right? what if i am a monster?”
you don’t get a chance to respond.
a shadow falls over you both.
kuni.
he’s standing in the doorway. scarf half-on, expression unreadable, eyes dark and narrowed in that way that always means he’s listening even if he doesn’t want to be.
“…you’re not,” kuni says quietly.
durin jerks his head up, startled.
“you’re annoying,” kuni says, stepping closer. “and clumsy. and loud. and kind of stupid.”
durin frowns. “is that a compliment?”
“take it or leave it.”
“…i’ll take it.”
you smile.
kuni sighs and rubs the back of his neck.
“…you scared me too, you know. in simulanka.”
durin blinks.
“but you stopped,” kuni mutters. “you changed. you chose to change. even though no one asked you to. even though everyone was scared of you. that counts for something.”
he kneels beside him, eye-level.
“you’re not a monster, durin. just a dumb dragon with bad aim and a weird sense of humor.”
durin stares.
then he throws himself into a hug.
“WHAT ARE YOU—GET OFF—”
“YOU DON’T HATE ME!!”
“I NEVER SAID THAT!!”
“HAT GUY LOVES ME!!!”
“SHUT UP!!”
you laugh. despite everything — the mess, the broken shelves, the tea that now has feathers in it again — you laugh.
the sky is still grey, but softer now.
and maybe this isn’t just a house full of misfits. maybe this is something healing. maybe this is something like home.
credits to @cafekitsune for the animated border lines!
[NOTICE] BTS The 5th Album Release and World Tour Announcement
Hello.
This is BIGHIT MUSIC.
We are excited to share some details about the release of BTS The 5th Album, and the start of their World Tour.
The new album holds special significance as it marks the first album released by the group in three years and nine months, while also indicating the direction the group will take going forward. The members were deeply involved in the creation of the songs, infusing their own thoughts and colors into them while musically expressing the emotions and struggles they have experienced along their journey.
Featuring 14 tracks, the album is packed with honest stories that BTS wants to share with ARMY, who have been waiting for their pm comeback as a whole group. Filled with the music that’s most true to BTS, the album is their heartfelt way of saying thank you to ARMY, who have been there this whole time.
We are also pleased to announce that, following the release of their BTS The 5th Album, BTS will be going on a world tour. The tour schedule will be announced separately on January 14 at 12 am. We ask for your continued love and support for BTS as they embark on a fresh start through these new promotional activities.
Lastly, we would like to sincerely thank all the ARMY who have waited patiently for so long.
Pre-Order Opening Date: From 11 am, Friday, January 16, 2026 (KST)
Release Date: 1 pm, Friday, March 20, 2026 (KST)
I love this laughter of his so much! Before AYS2, I didn't even know he was capable of laughing like this. I. An watch this video over and over and over without getting tired. Jimin please, keep doing what you're doing cuz I need more!!!
