This pride month I’m happy to share that I recently worked on a full-colour slice-of-life comic written by Mae Grenade as part of Lifeline Comics’ latest LGBT+ comic anthology, "Bi Bi Bi"; which features more than 20 stories by queer authors covering all corners of the Bi experience! 🥳🎉
The Kickstarter is live until July 3 2026 and has a bunch of bonus perks to peruse including digital editions, print editions, pins, bundles, and more!
this was based off the argenti's first meeting with the astral express!! so this idea was pretty old heh,,, im lowk surprised i had time to make comics :<<< although it's short, i hope yall enjoyed it :>>>
Liebling, komm und tanz mit mir den letzten Tanz ♪
#young-knight!varka x medic!reader ★ " varka finds himself unsure of the path he wants to take. lucky for him, you're there to give him the little boost needed to step forward. "
#tags-and-cw ★ younger varka (18 to very early 20s), he's a menace but also clearly lovesick, fem!reader, varka loves mondstadt (and you), reader is a tease LOL.
inspired by @/danijaci's fanart (linked at the bottom! pls check it out, it's amazing!) and varka's voicelines about his youth.
"i believe this is the fourth time this week, mr. knight."
varka brightens at the sound of your voice, head turning sharply to see you standing by the mahogany doors. just seeing your face rejuvenates him, and he finds the arrow lodged in his shoulder feel less and less painful by the second.
if he had a tail, it would be wagging right now.
"what? didn't miss me?" he laughs, watching as you step closer to the hospital bed he's currently sitting on.
there was a slight grimace on your face when you entered, one that quickly turned into a small placating smile.
but the smile does not alleviate the headache building at the back of your head. "not really, hard to miss when you're here nearly everyday." you sigh, moving forward to take a good luck at his injuries.
he winces when your gloved fingers touch the torn fabric, muscles twitching under his white shirt.
varka bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to groan from the pain.
"it's not too bad," you assess the damage, mind quickly conjuring ways to mend his injuries. it was a clean hit, and the tip barely went past the muscle tissue. "a few stitches and you'll be good as new. . . "
"only a few?" varka theatrically sighs, face inching closer to yours, "i was hoping to spend a little more time with the cathedral's best healer."
his face is unbelievably close now, nose nearly touching yours.
you find yourself drawn into the glacier-blue of his eyes, caught in their overwhelming brilliance — only to pull back just as quickly when you realize how little space remains between you.
they remind you of a cloudless sky.
with a slight flush on your cheeks, you turn your back to him, pretending that he hasn't gotten under your skin.
it's hard not to get affected, especially when it's varka — the infamous troublemaker of the knights, well-known menace of wolvendom, and grandmaster valentine's headache.
an a-list celebrity is at your clinic bed,
though it's more like a-list criminal.
"please maintain distance, sir knight." you say, keeping your voice steady as possible.
varka chuckles, "as you wish, miss healer."
his eyes follow you as you move around the small clinic, opening cupboards and gathering your tools.
he can’t help but wonder if you realize how lovely you look — how easy you make everything seem.
and more than that, he wonders if you’ll ever look at him and see more than just a patient.
you've always been so serious and professional with him, no matter how much he tries to tease your poor heart. it always ends with you forcefully throwing him out and him backing away with a sheepish grin.
occasionally, though, you slip up and show just how worried you are; there was a time he came in with several broken bones, and you had almost cried.
varka felt his heart ache seeing you like that.
your eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, lips formed to a frown while you bandaged him up. you didn't talk to him for a whole week, and during check-ups you barely showed any reaction to his usual jokes.
it was basically hell being stuck in a bed while other nuns took turns taking care of him.
varka vowed right then and there to never get that reckless again. not only did it hurt like hell but he also nearly withered without your attention.
"tell me, was it a hilichurl again?" you ask, pulling the wooden strolley with your tools towards him.
varka hums, looking up to the side as if thinking, "well. . . what if i told you it was a person this time?"
it wouldn't be surprising if it was. he had been forced to train young aspiring knights to sharpen his 'leadership skills' and if you remembered correctly, most of them were archers.
really bad ones.
"hang in there, you can go on as many adventures as you'd like after this." you let out a small laugh, watching his nose scrunch. a cute sight.
valentine had promised him, after all.
'go out and explore, young man.
a free wind like you shouldn't be tied to one nation only,
experience and learn as much as you can from the outside,
only then will you understand what it means to be a knight."
that was what the old man said, with that wide and warm grin of his. varka never really understood valentine's order, even now as he looks at you.
especially now that he looks at you.
"hey, miss healer," he speaks up, voice hesitant.
you continue to bandage his wound, not caring to look at him. it's probably another one of his awful pick-up lines, he always had something to talk about whenever he's with you. the boy acts as if no-one has talked to him in years sometimes.
"i'll be going away soon, y'know? like really far, and likely for a long time too." he starts, feeling his palms sweat, which he tries to hide by clutching the fabric of his trousers.
he continues after a moment, "i'll be gone next week, probably."
varka truly does not understand.
"it would be nice if we, uh—" he clears his throat, "hung out more. . . ? 'cause we never really do anything outside of you patching me up, well, not that i'm complaining of course—"
you try to stifle a laugh, watching him fumble with his words. never the type to be subtle, varka always marches forward, says whatever the hell he wants, then gets awkward when the consequences bite him in the ass.
"what use would that be?"
your question stuns him, brows furrowed down to a dismayed look. the brightness of his eyes slowly dims, making for a pathetic scene.
he bites his lip as he looks down, staring at the floor.
you decide not to beat him up too much, lest he actually starts crying in your clinic.
"i was merely jesting," you pat his uninjured shoulder.
he stays silent for a bit before letting out a small exhale.
"maybe you should leave the jokes to me, you suck at them."
"it was that bad, huh. . . "
"really bad, miss. downright awful, i'd say."
the two of you meet each other’s gaze, something mischievous flickering in both of your eyes —
before bursting into a cacophany of laughter, sound mixing into one.
your voice is one of varka's most treasured sounds, aside from the hymns and ballads of his homeland. he adores every small quip and whisper, revels in the way it feels like silk gliding through his ears.
which is why varka can't help but question valentine's words.
mondstadt has always been his home, it's not something varka can and ever will deny. the land contains everything he's ever loved, everything he will love, and most importantly —
it has you.
mondstadt has everything he could ever want and more. his dreams may be lofty and absurd but in the end, all of them take place in the land of anemo where freedom reigns true.
he could achieve all the glory and fame here, at home, where you and his family reside.
"you don't have to worry too much," you murmur, sitting beside him, "trust in the grandmaster's advice and do as he says."
varka simpers, "hah, that old coot never had anything good to say. he's probably trying to drive me away so i don't destroy the walls during training again. . . "
the young knight unceremoniously drops onto the bed, perching his head under his arms as he does. he's always been quick to forget the pain of his injuries, and not once did the discomfort show on his face.
"how surprising," you mumble, leaning on your palms as you look at him, "i thought you'd be more excited for this, you were always so hungry for adventure."
"he should just knight me already instead of makin' me run around places like a fool." he sighs, looking mournfully at the ceiling, "the whole thing feels like a carrot on a stick."
he glances at your curious eyes, and doubts himself even further, "maybe stayin' here ain't too bad."
your gaze hardens.
"absolutely not, sir knight."
"huh?"
varka looks at you with confusion, suddenly sitting up so he's face-to-face with your determined expression.
"you have to follow the grandmaster's words," you insist, pointing at him, "i'm serious, varka."
he immediately groans.
"you're saying the same thing frederica's been preaching," he scratches the back of his head in frustration, "follow his words this, follow his words that. . . !"
to be honest, you don't know much about knighthood and oaths. you certainly aren't a knight yourself, but you do know this: the young boy before you is a lost soul, a free soul but lost nonetheless.
varka, although seemingly driven, has never known where to put that endless ambition and unyielding will. undoubtedly, he has them, but never used it for anything other than reckless fighting.
after all, when given too much freedom, a bird can lose its purpose and forget how to truly fly.
you do not wish for varka to be a flightless bird.
and grandmaster valentine had talked with you beforehand to push varka further. seems even he knew about the young knight's hopeless pining over the cathedral's medic, you can't help but feel a little embarrassed.
"varka, why did you want to become a knight?"
it takes a while before he answers, and even when he does finally think of one, it comes out as unsure:
"i guess, hm, to gain fame? prove others wrong? and make my parents proud?"
"are you asking me or telling me?"
varka doesn't know how to answer that, so he stays quiet. though not for long before he opens his big mouth again, likely to say something stupid.
"at least go out with me before i leave."
stupid indeed.
you giggle at his defeated frame, "sure, sure, i owe you at least that much."
"when i finish this journey, will you still be here?"
so that's what he was worried about, it's almost childish to think about. but you suppose it's just like him to worry over nonsense.
did he think you'll go running with some other man as soon as he's out of the gates?
he looks at you with a pleading gaze, so clearly besotted it almost hurts to see. you don’t think he realizes it either, and you’re not about to be the one to point it out.
it was probably the reason people immediately knew of his feelings for you, other than his ramblings and everyday visit to the cathedral's clinic.
"i'm more concerned you'll find someone more interesting in your journey, it's a big world after all." you tease, studying the way he tries to defend himself with large hand gestures, nervously muttering how no one could ever match your brilliance.
he's way too fun to mess around with.
"—also nothing could ever beat home! there's nothing better than the wine of mondstadt and the songs of the taverns—"
you feel your heart melt, watching as he talks about home with so much adoration. he may be impulsive and stubborn, but his love remains steadfast and true.
you wonder if he realizes how much of that warmth he carries into you, too.
it lingers in every word, every softened glance, every quiet pause where his voice dips just slightly — like he’s holding something unbelievably precious.
and in that moment, you understand —
to him, home isn’t just a place,
but something he carries with him wherever he goes.
you let all your small worries flutter in the wind — every little thought in your head of him abandoning home in search of something larger — was put to rest.
grandmaster valentine was right to favor this boy, so you'll push him in the righ direction. even if it pains you to see him go.
"fret not, dear knight. just as you won't forget mondstadt, you too will forever endure in my memories."
varka seems to have lost all the usual wit at your sudden proclamation, he feels himself bristle as heat rushes to his face in mere seconds. his mouth gapes open while you smile knowingly at him.
he already knows he's done for.
"you can't just say stuff like that— miss, it's bad for my heart!"
you laugh in his face, and it makes his heart nearly leap out of his chest as you do.
in the coming months, varka will find himself staring at the general direction of his homeland.
although he hasn't grasped the true meaning of knighthood yet, varka still finds himself itching to return.
it's true that he's seen many amazing things on his expedition, and he's realized just how small mondstadt is compared to the never-ending snowy plains of snezhnaya or towering rock formations of liyue.
and yet —
the image of warm taverns, of laughter spilling into the night, of hymns carried by the wind. . . they remain rooted deep within the caverns of his heart.
he finds himself missing it more than he thought he ever could.
missing you, most of all.
there are nights where doubt creeps in, quiet and suffocating. when he wonders if he’s made the wrong choice — if leaving was a mistake he cannot undo.
he thinks of the warriors he’s crossed blades with, their strength, their precision, their experience.
and for the first time in a long while, varka questions himself.
questions whether he is worthy of even holding a sword.
whether he is strong enough to return not as the man who left, but as someone greater.
still, even with doubt gnawing at him, his gaze always drifts back to the same direction.
to mondstadt.
because no matter how far he travels, no matter how much he learns —
his heart has never once left home.
.
.
.
he can only hope that when he finally makes his way back into your warmth, it will be 'my dear knight' this time.
#word-count ☆ 2.3k probabaly?????
#it's-your-captain-ari-speaking ☆ i know i keep posting varka and im so sorry hes just been in my head 24/7 i truly do feel embarassed. . . feels like im clogging the tags with my unending thoughts agh!! also please look at the art linked below, its sosososos9 good and the main reason i stopped everything i was doing to write this.
also i think varka is like the biggest mond lover ever, his whole character revolves around his home and it makes me feel so giddy. i love him.
Everything changed the day Amira was born.
The world outside was collapsing — bombs, dust, screams, and fear. Yet inside a small room, by the dim light of a single candle, a new life began.
While others were running for shelter, I was holding my newborn daughter, trembling, crying, trying to believe that something so pure could still exist in a place like Gaza.
I named her Amira, because I wanted her to feel like a child of life —not a child of war.
A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed
Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep.
She has just turned one.
She’s learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things — as if she doesn’t see the destruction around her.
She doesn’t know the word “loss.”
She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there.
Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in — whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like.
And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says “mama,” everything becomes bearable again.
I want to rebuild our home.
Not just for the walls — but for her future.
For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war.
I’m not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear
My name is Saja. I am a mother, a wife, and just one of many women in Gaza trying to hold on — to hope, to my family, and to a life that no
A Mother’s Message
To everyone reading this — thank you for listening to our story.
Your kindness means more than words.
Every share, every message, every donation — it all helps me rebuild not just a house, but a future for Amira.
From the heart of Gaza, from a mother learning to hope again —
we will live. And I will make sure my daughter grows up in a world that knows love more than war.
This is a commission work from @scarecrow072 and that’s why I won’t be putting my watermark on this work. I’d appreciate it if you don’t repost it on other sites! Post with permission. Work in team with @moment-of-astrophe and @slivabel
Okay I’m gonna be honest. I actually forgot which character I have posted here and which one I haven’t. I post some on my IG but not on this tumblr. So sorry if I double posted (｡T ω T｡) but do enjoy some Bokuto on your dash ♡
