Instead of getting a suite in some big, flashy resort, Satoru rented out a villa a stone’s throw from a stretch of private white sand beaches. You were greeted by the villa’s staff on your arrival. A private chef, a masseuse, and a local guide who doubles as a sort of lifeguard and water-related activity instructor wrapped up into one are all at your disposal.

The rest of the intro went straight over your head. All you could think about was rinsing off the airport germs, changing into a bathing suit, and diving into the sparkling ocean.

Thankfully, Satoru booked a villa with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. They’re across the hall from each other, and they both sport cozy-looking queen beds. The curtains are gauzy, fluttering and letting in shifts of sunlight that bounce off the polished wooden floors. The windows overlook the beach, and the sound of the waves lapping at the white sands makes for lovely ambiance. 

Your bathroom is just as nice. It’s spacious with a large, glass-doored shower in one corner and a tub in the other. The sink is built into a long vanity, and the shelves are fully stocked with luxurious complimentary toiletries, fluffy towels, and a few white robes. 

It takes you a few tries to figure out the shower, but you eventually emerge bathed in steam and smelling like a ripe mango thanks to the complimentary shower items. You slather a bit of lotion and sunscreen on and then wrap yourself in one of the soft, complementary robes. Your feet pad across the bare wooden flooring as you exit the bathroom and beeline over to your waiting suitcase. 

You don’t have to look very far to find the swimsuit you bought for the trip. It’s skimpy. Skimpier than you would usually go for, anyway. Past you was thinking about running away from society, ignoring rules and expectations. Current you is thinking about the possibility of sand getting in places it shouldn't.

Another bathing suit is ready and waiting for you in your suitcase. Something with more coverage. More traditional.

You stare at the bikini in your hands for a few more seconds.

'What happens in Bali, right?'

This may very well be your one opportunity to let go have fun in what could be an extremely short life, so you shimmy your way into that bikini like god intended and wrap a gauzy sarong around your waist to match.

Satoru is already out on the beach when you exit the villa. You're met with a blinding, beaming smile when you walk out to the beach. He's got two hollowed-out pineapples laden with fruit and topped with mini umbrellas in his hands. Satoru's long form is draped over a laid-back lounge chair, white button-down shirt left unbuttoned to show off the pale expanse of his toned chest.

“Hey! I got us pina coladas! C’mere!” he beckons. 

Your toes sink into the warm, white sand, and it’s like all the stress and tension your body’s been holding onto for years melts out of your body as you walk over to his side. There's a spring in your step you haven’t felt since before you could see curses.

You snatch the pina colada out of Satoru’s hand and take a few long pulls. 

“Oh, wow,” you gasp. “This is insanely good.”

“Right?” Satoru turns his head to look at you. “Best pina colada I’ve ever had. Mine’s virgin, of course.”

Your hand shoots out to ruffle Satoru’s sun-warmed hair before you can stop it, and he lets out an undignified yelp. "Thanks."

“Heyyyyyy, watch the hair,” he complains. “You know how long it takes to style…”

The chair’s cushions give way to your body weight as you melt back into it. A content smile blooms on your face, and your eyes slip shut unconsciously. You can feel Satoru’s eyes lingering on you, but you don’t mind. There’s always been something silent between the two of you, a quiet preference for one another that everyone can feel. An intangible tether keeps the two of you linked, even more so in the past few years. You’re the person he can always fall back on, and he’s the person who always manages to put a smile on your face.

That smile is the real reason Satoru wanted to get you away from Tokyo. It’s been too long since he’s last seen it. Everyone thinks he’s an arrogant, brash asshole, and maybe he is. He’s also lived a life of loss and isolation, and he’d rather get eaten alive by a curse than let that smile of yours disappear for good. It's the only thing that's always been able to comfort him, no matter what.

“Try the pineapple,” he insists. “It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

You assess the slice of pineapple sticking out of your drink before taking a bite of it. The sweet flavor explodes on your tongue, tapered by the soft sting of acidity. It’s so ripe that a bit of juice trickles down your chin.

“Holy fuck,” you mumble around the fruit. “That’s, like, food crack. Wow.”

“Right? They have the best fruit here.” He cocks his head at you and pokes your shoulder. “I’ll make sure they keep enough stocked for you.”

You and Satoru don’t leave the beach for the rest of the night. You’ve exhausted yourselves in the ocean, swimming and messing around all day. By sunset, the two of you are lying side-by-side in the tide watching cotton candy clouds roll over the horizon. The water laps at you gently, and the occasional wave splashes over the two of you. There’s no one else on the beach. The only movement comes from the water and the wind ruffling through the palms. 

Your voice breaks the tranquil silence. “I wasn’t expecting you to pick such a nice spot, Satoru.” You turn to look at him, only to find two azure eyes already looking at you.

“I remembered you saying that you wished you could get to the coasts more.” His usual boisterous energy is markedly subdued in this moment. “So I thought I’d take you to one.”

Your chest tightens, and you look at him. You really look at him. He’s always looked younger than he is, but he looks like an earnest little boy right now. His eyes are wide and sincere while he chews on the inside of his petal-pink lips. There’s a matching flush on his cheeks, the warmth rising from the slight embarrassment he feels from admitting that to you.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s done for me,” you admit.

Satoru’s eyes drift to your mouth and then back to the rapidly dipping sun. “I’d do so much more if you let me.”

The words settle and disappear into the night. You don’t know how to respond, so you don’t say anything. Instead, your hand finds his through the waves, and you give it a soft squeeze. His skin is warm. His fingers hook through yours, refusing to let you go.

The sun finally disappears behind the horizon, and exhaustion hits you like a truck as you stare up at the stars. A yawn slips past your lips, and Satoru’s hand slips up your forearm.

“Tired?” He shifts onto his side to face you. When you nod, he’s on his feet and scooping you up into a princess carry before you can protest. “You should shower before you go to bed. You’re all sandy.”

You press a noncommittal mumble into his shoulder and shift in his arms. “At least rinse off. C’mon. You want my help?”

“Hm. Sure.” You and Satoru have seen each other in much worse, much more compromising situations. You’re vulnerable with each other in ways you’re certain most people never get to experience.

He sets you on the ground and undresses you gingerly before ushering you under the warm water. His hands gently work through your salty hair, and he rinses you off with care. Satoru’s usual levity melts away when it comes to moments like these. After all of the sand and salt has rinsed down the drain, he shuts off the faucet and helps you out of the shower. 

He’s got you dried off and wrapped up in one of the supplied fluffy towels before you can blink. His hands rub up and down your biceps to keep you warm.

“Mm…you’re sweet, Toru.”

“You’re sweeter. C’mon. Off to bed with you.”

Satoru grabs an oversized shirt out of your suitcase and slips it over your head before depositing you into bed. His hands tuck you in with a practiced ease.

The last thing you feel before falling asleep is the press of his lips against your forehead. 

The past few weeks have been phenomenal. Your time in Bali is slowly coming to an end, but Satoru’s made sure that everyday has been memorable. Lounging by the beach, excursions into town, star gazing, jet skiing under the guidance of your live-in instructor…

Speaking of him, he’s an absolute sight. Sure, you’ve got Satoru hanging off your arm all the time, but god forbid a girl’s eyes wander. It’s not like Satoru can even complain. Exclusivity isn’t a rule, even though the two of you have blurred boundaries more than any normal friendship would.

…cirlcling back, your instructor is gorgeous. Right now, you’re shaded under a cabana, sipping a martini and watching his tan back flex as he maneuvers the jet skiis around. Satoru’s around here somewhere, but you couldn’t be bothered to turn your head. 

Satoru, on the other hand, is feeling particularly put out that his attempts to get your attention haven't fruitful. He built a giant sandcastle for Christ’s sake! He’s been calling your name for the past three minutes on and off, and a pout is forming on his face. Surely that guy can’t be more interesting than he is! He’s the strongest. 

“HEYYYYY! LOOK AT ME, SWEETS!” Satoru calls out one last time. Thankfully, it’s enough to catch your attention. Unfortunately, it seems like he’s also incurred the wrath of the gods because as soon as you turn your head, a giant wave crashes on shore and knocks Satoru’s sandcastle over.

Satoru drops to his knees, and what do you do? You start giggling! At his pain! 

“The HUMANITY!” he whines into the sand. His hands are braced on his knees, and his head is bowed. All you can see is a sandy head of white hair. He flops to his side in perfect theatrical form and lies there, pretending to twitch occasionally. He glances up just to see you still sitting in your lounge chair. “You hate me. There’s no one left to love me.”

A long-suffering sigh heaves through your lungs, but it’s tempered by the affectionate smile on your face. You set your martini off to the side and slowly get to your feet. When you start walking toward him, Gojo peeks an eye open at you. He tries to fight back the dorky smile on his face, but the closer you get, the more it grows. 

Once you finally kneel down at his side, his arms shoot out and grab you around the waist. He rolls you onto your back, and the two of you start to play wrestle. You put up a valiant fight, but the laughter is too much to hold back. Satoru pins your wrists triumphantly and shoots you his signature cocky grin.

“Never defeated! I guess that makes up for you eyeing up your new boytoy over there. I’m still hurt, though. I thought I was your number one,” he fake-sniffs.

“Please. That man is not my boytoy. He’s just a guy. Stop projecting your weird fantasies onto him,” you admonish. Still, there’s a part of you that’s thrilled at the thought of Satoru wanting to be that to you.

“Weird fantasies? I’ll show you,” he mutters, climbing off of you and helping you up to your feet.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. You go chill. I have something to take care of, okay?”

Spending the rest of the day without Satoru meant you had plenty of peace and quiet. Still, there’s a dull feeling in your chest when you think about him. You’d never say that you miss him, but here, under the warm, watchful sun and healing, salt-tinged air, you might just be able to admit that he’s always been more to you than just a friend. 

After dinner, the chef delivers you a note written in Satoru’s messy script. It reads, “Meet me in the cove under the big coconut tree. I have something to show you.”

Your eyes roll involuntarily, and you shake your head. Leave it to Satoru to do everything in the most roundabout way ever. You pick your way down the coast and eventually make it to the cove he mentioned in the note. 

“Alright, Satoru. I’m here. What did you want to show…me…” your voice trails off in an awed whisper. Satoru’s set the cove up like a fairy hideaway. There’s a thin blanket laid out over the sand with a display of various chocolate-dipped fruits. That’s not what catches your attention, though. No, what really takes your breath away is the multitude of hibiscus flowers that Satoru has seemingly arranged by hand around the cove. There’s a flower nestled in every inch, almost making it feel like you’re in some kind of flower bed heaven. He’s managed to find colors and varieties of the flower that you never could have dreamed up. The setting sun only adds to the ambience. Golden light trickles in like honey. Honey. Satoru seems bathed in it. You’ve never seen him this warm. You’ve never seen him glow like this. He's usually all harsh lines and ice and distance, but here, on the beach, he's never felt more real.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful,” you whisper. “You did this for me?”

Satoru nods sheepishly and comes to a stop in front of you. “Yeah. I did. I remembered you mentioning how pretty you thought the flowers were when we went on that walk last week.” He takes your hands in his and squeezes softly. “I just think that someone like you should get to feel like this at least once in your life.”

You’ve come to terms with the fact that your life will get cut short. You’ve understood from a very young age that your life is to be lived in the service of others, that your body is to be used as a security measure. You’ve long accepted that your youth is not yours. But that part of you comes screaming and clawing back to life as you stare into Satoru’s eyes. Selfishness. That’s what it is. All of this is incredibly selfish.

Satoru’s right hand slips up your forearm, and you decide you don’t care. Just this once, you don’t care if people need you elsewhere. You don’t care that you're not supposed to have this. You don’t care that this life will never really be yours. You don't care that loving Satoru is quite possibly the the most dangerous decision of your life. All you care about is that this man, this man that you love, is standing in front of you, staring at you like you’re the sun his world orbits around. You’ve never seen Satoru wearing that kind of look on his face, but it unleashes a hungry greed in you. 

Satoru is content with the crumbs you give him, which is surprising for a man like him. But you can’t be content until he’s yours. Even if it’s just for the month. Even if it’s just for the night. Your hands leave his to find the collar of his shirt.

“You don't have to try this hard to seduce me” you murmur.

“I–” Satoru’s ears turn pink, and he looks away for a moment. "Did you think I brought you out here just to have sex? I didn’t want it to seem like that.”

“No, Satoru,” you shake your head. “It didn’t seem like that. I just…I think I need you.”

Satoru pauses for a moment before his hands settle on your waist heavily. He brings his face closer to yours. “You’re sure?”

Now that you’re breathing in his air, you’ve never been more sure of anything.

“Yes.”

That’s all Satoru needed. He springs into action, pressing his lips against yours as his fingers dig into the fabric of your sundress. Most people would think Satoru kisses the same way he fights, all precision and ruthlessness, but there’s some kind of sweetness there that smears across your mouth like syrup. His lips are soft and fuller than you expect, and one hand’s slipped up into your hair, and–

The world tilts and disappears. Your eyes snap open, just in time to see Satoru lowering you down onto the hibiscus-surrounded picnic blanket. He settles over you as his right hand finds your waist once more. The softness of your hip gives way under his touch, and he has to kiss you again. His hands roam down your belly and to your thighs. He parts them like he was made to, and his body fits into the space yours leaves behind. When he breaks the kiss, you’re halfway certain you’ve swapped souls. 

“Satoru–” you choke out.

He gently shushes you with hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. “I know.”

He rips his thin shirt off over his head and settles back down. Your hands begin roaming over his broad shoulders, and he lets out a shuddery breath. The straps of your dress are pushed down, and the fabric is discarded soon after. Satoru’s left speechless at the sight of your newly exposed, sun-warmed skin. 

“God…you’re so beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful,” he whispers against your collarbone.

“Speak for yourself,” you murmur. Your right hand threads through his moonstone hair. “You shouldn’t be real.”

Satoru shakes his head, and you gasp when he sucks your left nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicks over the peaked flesh until your back arches up off the blanket. “You’re the realest thing I’ve ever felt.” 

His hands slide farther up your thighs, spreading you apart slowly. His thumbs drag your panties down your thighs languidly. If he only gets you once, he’ll be sure he takes his time. He finally pulls away from your chest with a pop.

His eyes meet yours, and you can’t remember a time you’ve ever seen him look this serious before.

“You really want this?"

The real question—do you really want him—hangs silent in the air.

The silence is only broken by the sound of the waves crashing into the shore somewhere behind Satoru's back as if the waves themselves are begging for your answer.

“Nothing makes more sense than you do.”

He gives you a heart-wrenching smile before shifting down your body. His lips smear wet kisses down your navel before he slots his face against your pussy. Suddenly, he doesn’t have time for any more hesitation. His tongue traces the shape of your folds like he’s trying to get acquainted with you while his fingers dig into the squish of your thighs. He groans at the first taste of you and presses in deeper, nose bumping your clit as his tongue teases your entrance. A heady rush courses through you until you can feel the nerve endings all the way in the tips of your fingers light up.

One of your hands digs into his hair while the other slides down the side of your face. An involuntary whimper leaves you as his tongue digs in deeper. His hands grip your hips to keep you in place before he picks up his pace. It’s almost mind-numbing, the way he fucks his tongue into you while swiping his nose against your clit. 

“You taste so amazing,” he groans. “Must be all the pineapple we’ve been eating.” He chuckles when you tug on his hair harshly in retaliation. 

His tongue works quickly to unravel you, and you feel a familiar tension coiling in your lower belly.

“S’toru…baby, don’t stop–you’re so…ah–” your mind can’t quite keep up with the sensations of your body. It’s making you go soft and fuzzy around the edges. “Fuck…”

A drawn out whine escapes you as your thighs clamp down around Satoru’s head. He’s undeterred, though, and he keeps nodding along and nudging your clit with his nose, happily working you through your aftershocks. 

“Yeahhh, pretty. Just like that. Mm, you’re gonna suffocate me, y’know,” he teases.

“Hmph.” Your thighs slowly release his head, and he crawls back up over top of you. The heavy heat of him presses down against your torso, and you feel the hard outline of his erection poking into your thigh.

Your hand drags up his thigh and dips down into his waistband. “Take these off.”

“Bossy.” He murmurs with a smile and a kiss to your temple. Never one to resist you, his shorts are abandoned in record speed. After he hooks your legs over his shoulders, he turns his head and presses tender kisses to the inside of your ankle. “You doing okay?” he asks gently. 

“God, yes,” you sigh. Your hips lift up to shallowly grind against him. The head of his cock catches against your clit, making both of you groan in turn.

“I need…just…hang on,” he mumbles. “I think I’m gonna cum if I try to fuck you right now. You’re so perfect, I don’t want to fuck it up.”

You scoff. “Are you implying I’m only worth one round?”

Baby blue eyes blink down at you owlishly, and he quickly shakes his head. “N-no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’d be offended if you rolled over after this.”

Satoru grins wider and cages your head in with his arms. “That won’t be a problem with me.”

“What if we just pretend?” you whisper. The two of you are barely holding onto the last shreds of consciousness. The sun’s long gone, and the moon hangs heavily over the horizon.

“Hmm?” Satoru lifts his head from where he was peppering your bare shoulder with kisses. He’s got you tucked against his chest while his body acts as some kind of cocoon. He’s warm and heavy and so real.

“What if we just pretend,” you whisper. “When we get to the next place, what if we just pretend we’re married?”

Satoru’s heart thumps heavily in his chest, and he presses his nose against your cheek. “Okay.”

How could he ever say no to you when you've got that hopeful shine back in your eyes?

Sicily. July 2010.

If the Bali beaches held fun and laughter, the Sicilian coast feels like settling into a worn recliner at the end of a long day. Maybe it’s just the fact that you and Satoru aren’t pretending anymore. Well, you are pretending, but somehow it feels more like the truth than ever before. 

He holds you close when you walk down the private stretch of beach attached to the house he rented out. He still rinses you off after being on the beach, but he drops the pretense and steps right in behind you, planting kisses to your shoulder that are as easy as breathing. You two spend your nights drinking small glasses of limoncello and hand-feeding each other fruit and cheese and fresh pasta. He’s never out of reach and always perfectly accessible.

That’s especially true on mornings like these when you wake up tucked against his chest under soft linens. In last night’s haze, you forgot to shut the windows, so a salty breeze rolls into the room. It blows through the curtains that are stained gold from the morning sunlight. 

Satoru’s fingers twitch against your side, and he presses closer against your back.

“Hey…g’morning,” he murmurs. You’ve decided that this is your favorite way to hear his voice: rough, tired, and pressed right into your skin like a brand. 

“Good morning.” You say the words through a yawn and settle down into your pillows.

“Nothing to do today, right? Just beaching?”

He nods, and the fluffy mess of his hair tickles your jaw in a terribly familiar way. “Just beaching.”

‘His hands are so soft,’ the thought rolls through your mind unexpectedly. You’re not entirely certain why you’re thinking about it when you’ve got him buried deep inside you while your hips grind on his lap in shallow circles. It’s just surprising. You wouldn't expect it from a man who lives like he does.

He’s got a death grip on both of your hips. Turns out Satoru gets a lot more desperate when you ride him, which is a feat in itself considering how desperate he is for you in his regular state. You’re not surprised at the whine that leaves him when you pry his left hand away from your hip. The sound gets traded for a stifled gasp when your lips find his palm.

“Baby…” he blinks up at you through his black-tinted sunglasses. “What’re you doing?”

“Kissing your hand. And fucking you.” Your tone is entirely too blase for his taste.

“Hmph.” His right hand releases your other hip and sneaks down between your thighs. Your body jerks involuntarily when he starts rubbing tight circles into the bundle of nerves. He gives you a triumphant smile when your walls start fluttering around him. “See? Quick learner. I know what you like now,” he sing-songs.

“Baby, I’d be concerned if you couldn’t pick it up after all this time.”

“Still so mean to me,” he whines playfully.

Toward the end of the month, reality still hasn’t settled in. Your gold-tinted fantasy is slowly coming to an end, but this routine of carefree joy now has a sense of normalcy. Satoru can feel it, too. Anxiety creeping in around the edges of meals, desperation leaking into touches, a quiet death lingering on the horizon.

The last day Satoru holds you is the day you think your heart may as well stop beating. It’s early in the morning when he starts slipping away. He gets out of bed a bit too early and doesn’t say anything as he gets dressed. 

You stay in bed through breakfast and join him on the beach in the afternoon. The two of you sit on separate towels. 

“This was…nice,” you whisper tightly.

Satoru nods and plays with the edge of his towel. “It was.”

He looks over at you after a moment. He opens his mouth like he wants to speak, but the words don’t come for a few more moments.

“I never thought I’d get to experience this with someone. Being normal,” he admits quietly.

You nod along and swallow down the part of you that wants to scream for him to stay hidden away with you forever, “Yeah. You were the best pretend husband ever.”

Satoru gives you a weak smile and doesn’t move his hand away when you place yours over his.

Tokyo. October 30th, 2018.

You stare at the man in front of you like he’s grown three heads. Long gone are the days of sunkissed skin and joyful laughter on the beach. Satoru’s grown pale again, and you’ve got one too many scars to laugh about. The two of you still talk, but it’s hard to be around each other when all you can feel is the pain of a life you can only fantasize about.

“You’re really going to give Suguru what he wants?” you ask slowly. You take a pull of the whiskey in your glass. The liquid slides down your throat like fire. You never used to be able to drink the stuff, but bitterness has a funny way of pooling in your gut and tearing at you from the inside out until you can't recognize yourself anymore.

“You know I have to,” he says. He’s nonchalant as ever, but you pick up on the furrow in his brow that’s given him away ever since he was 16. 

“You don’t, though. You don’t have to.” Your glass makes a clinking sound as you set it on the table. You don’t say what you want to say. Pleas of, “We could leave again. Go somewhere warmer. Hide until it goes away or kills us,” thicken your tongue like cement. You don’t say it, but Satoru hears it anyway.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?” A smile curves the corner of his lips, and he looks away for a moment. “Almost ten years ago now, huh? God, I sound like a geezer.”

You watch impassively as he stretches his long legs out and settles deeper into the chair he’s sitting in. 

“It was,” you whisper. There must be some glimmer in your eye or a catch in your breath that gives you away because he’s on his feet before you can blink. He walks right over to you and pulls you into a tight hug. His lips press to the top of your head, and his big, familiar hands, still soft as ever, settle on your back. He still smells like sweet mint and pine.

“I know,” he replies. He's always known. He seals it off with a lingering kiss to your forehead before stepping back like it’s nothing. “You should get home. Get some sleep. I’ve got a funny feeling that it's not gonna be easy tomorrow.”

You nod slowly and grab your coat from the hooks near the lounge door. You step into the doorway, but pause. “Don’t be an idiot, okay? Promise me.”

You hear Satoru sigh. “I think I've always been one.”

You don’t stick around for much longer. You can’t. You’ll start pleading if you’re left alone with him for five more seconds.

The drive back to your home is peaceful, if not overshadowed by the growing dread you’ve felt since you saw the way Satoru’s face was set. This conclusion has always been foregone. The world has made it abundantly clear that he’s never been yours to keep.

You’ll always be stuck mourning the two people you buried in Sicilian sand eight years ago.

And when you go home and see what you know is a parting gift of sprawling bouquets of hibiscus and a bottle of limoncello sitting on your dining room table, you think Satoru might be in mourning, too.

all written content belongs to @cherrys-wrld. i do not own the original characters or the official art used above. do not feed my work into ai, repost, translate, or copy it.

masterlist

gojo/jjk taglist: @nyapinkypie @poepard @dawnsoblivion @satorusrealm @brrreign @dollhousesinner @sugurusbadhabit @suguruss1ut @sgarcubes @imagineadream @getopied @killakuna

  He put you in his lap—doesn’t that mean it’s petting time?

 Where’s your damn attention?

  Slightly exasperated, Alhaitham tries to multitask and pet you while he's scooping your hair—but more keeps tossing around with every upstroke of your thick fur… why did you have to turn into a hairball? Couldn’t you have been a hairless cat? He’s almost tempted to just put you in the bag. 

  He’s a respectable “pet owner”, but does lack in one aspect that’s quite important to you, at least… perhaps not all cats

  No kisses?? 

  You’d at least like some on your head—he doesn’t have to kiss your nose or anything. Though you shouldn’t be surprised, Alhaitham isn’t very forthcoming with his affections and most of your casual kisses are by your initiation and his response to it.

  So now you have to effectively smush your furry little head into his face to communicate that you want kisses. 

  It takes him a few tries to understand what you need, but thankfully he got it rather easily, smart lad. 

  Kaveh sometimes catnaps (kidnaps) you for… cat naps. He says it’s nicer than hugging his own pillow—and you don’t particularly mind, but Alhaitham does. Once he can’t find you after a general sweep of the house he figures Kaveh took you again and like a seasoned thief, swaps you out with a pillow while the architect is asleep. 

  “Hmph… he should get his own cat,” Alhaitham says to himself after shutting the door quietly, holding you like a baby in his arms, your paws in the air. He looks down, grey hair tilting over his eyes as he smiles only slightly. “What? You are my cat. Perhaps I should call you kitty from now on, even after you’ve changed back.”

  You tried to climb onto the back of the chain in the study when Alhaitham was doing some studies once, but quicker than you could react—even with these new cat reflexes—he grabs you by the scruff of your neck and hoists you off. “You’re scratching the furniture,” he moves you from the back of the chair and plops you down on his lap. “Do refrain from doing that.”

  Hmph. You wanted to bite his hair a bit… it smells nice. But fine. Lap it is, you can settle for that.

  It takes you about two and a half minutes not to be satisfied with that, and lounge over his book instead, hoping he’ll stop and pay attention to you instead. You have a feeling he would do the same if he were in your position. 

  Alhaitham seems annoyed for a few seconds, but he only needs to stare into your big, cute cat-eyes for a few seconds to fold. What can he do? It doesn’t take much for you already to rope him into whatever shenanigans the day brings, and especially not like this.

Arataki Itto;

You just wanted a nice, cool nap. 

  It’s hot as balls in Inazuma, and you found an excellent spot under a slanted roof. You got comfortable and were half asleep already when you’re suddenly dragged off the crate and raised in the air like a divine heir. 

  Flailing in protest, your screaming of; “PUT ME DOWN YOU OAF” isn’t translated very well into frantic meows and hisses. 

  And of course, Itto has no idea what you’re trying to communicate—in fact, he thinks you’re just a bit surprised yet happy to see him. He sets you on his shoulder and you hold on for dear life. He’s broad, but broad muscles are also rather round and his outfit isn’t easy to grab onto—you just thank feline evolution that you have good balance and can hold yourself somewhat steady. 

  He sometimes just parades you around on his head like a strange hat, he doesn’t even seem to mind the death grip you have on his scalp. 

  Best naps, laying out in the grass on a warm summer’s day as the bright rays of the sun shine down on you. It’s comfortably warm, your fur keeps you cool enough that you don’t get lightheaded—despite popular belief, Itto is not a snorer, but he is a hugger. 

  You’re caged against his broad chest and there’s little escape or ways to wake him without scratching, biting or wailing like you’re trapped under a boulder. 

  Itto is a seasoned pet owner, he has multiple beetles that he takes good care of and thus he’s surprisingly adept at handling you. He doesn’t toss you around (except to put you on his shoulders or head) and doesn’t lock you out of the house or forget to feed you. In fact, you’d say he’s a top-notch owner, though you might be slightly biased. 

  The summer days are warm in Inazuma, and sometimes one just needs to do something to keep their mind off of the heat. Even with your coat protecting you from most of it, even you are starting to get dazed by the sharp, overbearing heat of the sun. And Itto is also very good at filling empty time. 

  He takes you out to the beach, though it wasn’t the best idea—he thought it was genius, the ocean is cool enough, there are not many around on the eastern beaches because of the awkward positioning and further distance from the city… but he didn’t take it into account that you absolutely refuse to get in the water, and there’s no shade. So that idea gets abandoned quickly. 

  For some reason he loves to touch your nose; poke it, kiss it, rub it… anything. And every time he does, you have to wet it again—it almost becomes a funny game to him to touch your nose and watch as your tongue darts out to wet it again. 

  Being unable to communicate with you isn’t a problem, he’s a yapper and can talk enough for the two of you. You try to meow along in response to show that you’re listening, but even if there was no brain behind your eyes, he’d still talk your ears off. 

  He creates a makeshift cat-bed for you out of some blankets and cushions, Itto was rather proud of himself for the craft that went into making it as soft as it is…

  It still always ends up with you on his chest or legs at the end of the night. Without exception.

Baizhu;

He really scratches his head over this situation, how did this happen to you? You had gone out to deliver some medicine to those who aren’t well enough or mobile to come fetch it themselves, and had stayed out far longer than usual—Baizhu had started to worry and nearly had gone to look for you… when a cat with your eyes and mannerisms stumbles into the pharmacy meowing up a storm trying to explain itself. 

  Distressed, confused and much smaller than you’re used to being, Baizhu quickly scoops you up into his arms to calm you down. “Do not worry, I recognise you,” he assures—he feels a little silly saying this to a cat, and has a twinge in the back of his mind that he might be wrong. But the way you’re waving your paw is strangely… human, though muddled by the restrictions of your cat-joints. 

  Changsheng however, finds this HILARIOUS. She unwinds a bit from Baizhu’s shoulders and nearly bumps snouts with you as she wonders whether you were even fully aware of yourself, and after some arguing—in the form of loud yowling and meowing—they concluded that yes, your mind is well. 

  Baizhu tries everything he can think of, but he’s never really encountered a situation like this before and he has to use a lot of his attention to theory-crafting and tests. 

  The only thing that made a difference, was that one concoction he crafted made your ears twice larger… but it didn’t change you back. So now you just have unnaturally large ears for a cat. 

  He smiles sheepishly as he examines you to make sure nothing else is affected. “Ah… apologies, my dear. I don’t mean to laugh… but the ears,” he tries his best not to smile too widely, or give a soft laugh. But it’s difficult, you look so disproportionate it’s just adorable.

  Despite your grievance over your proportions, Baizhu can’t help but rub your ears and scratch behind them. He gives you some good treats as an apology. You reluctantly accept. 

  Unfortunately, Baizhu has a job to do and can’t just close the pharmacy off from his assistance to tend to you. He multitasks as much as he can, but there are scheduled appointments to be present for.

  But he has a good idea of how to utilise you, after all, you’re the usual deliverer—customers likely won’t mind if you’re cat-sized.

  Thus, he gets some help from contacts and a day later you have a fancy harness with a delivery box on your back. Baizhu sets some medicine in it and fastens it properly so it won’t slip off and you don’t feel too constrained… and sets you on your way. 

  You were getting bored lounging around in the pharmacy anyway, so you revel in getting to stretch your legs a bit. You make the deliveries in record time, able to get through tiny crevices you weren’t able to before and hope through shortcuts you didn’t even know about.

  As you return to the pharmacy after the final run, Baizhu smiles and kneels down in front of you, removing the harness and scratching where the lines of it had pressed against your fur. The nice feeling of being pet brings a rumbling purr from your chest and your tail sways happily as he gives you some water to drink and attention. 

  “Good work today,” he strokes between your large ears and rubs his thumb on your cheek. “It’s almost time to close up, let’s go upstairs and continue trying to figure out how to turn you back.”

  The soft ambient light of the room and the sound of Baizhu’s brush stroking against the paper of a scroll makes you much more tired than you expected. You lay curled up on the desk against the wall where he sits and writes formulas and theories, Changsheng slithers up next to you and bundles herself on your back—it’s not particularly comfortable, but you’re too lazy to move, and it’s kind of cute. 

  Baizhu hums to himself and looks at you, his gaze lingers for only a short time before returning to the scroll in front of him.

Cyno;

He stares at the cat in Tighnari’s hands, his eyes look up to the man holding you and then back down. “What.”

  The ranger deadpans and plops you into his arms. “I’ve been scouring the library for days while you were in the desert, I don’t know what happened, but it’s just how they are right now.”

  Cyno lifts you up by holding your torso under your front legs, he peers at your face as you dangle like an idiot but have no way to really wriggle away. “Blink twice if it’s really you.”

  You blink twice.

  “Huh,” he just makes a sound of affirmation, then tucks you under his arm. “Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”

  Tighnari stares at him, unimpressed by his lack of reaction to the fact that his partner is currently a small, furry cat. “You're not going to ask where I found them, how I know it’s them or how my progress is going when it comes to turning them back?”

  Cyno is silent for a beat before he speaks again. “I know it’s them, I know their eyes.”

  Somehow, the duty of getting you back to normal remained on Tighnari’s back, and Cyno sets you down on the dining table in your shared home. He folds his arms over his chest and analyses you, it’s a little awkward—you’re not sure why he’s staring so intensely at you. 

  “This is… quite the cat-astrophe—”

  Oh no. 

  You have no way to stop him, and though you usually let him get it out of his system once he feels the need… you could also stop him once it gets out of hand. In this form, you’re effectively defenceless and unable to protest in any meaningful ways. 

  Thankfully, he does stop after you dive under your bed and hide for ten minutes in hopes he won’t drag you back and perform stand-up for you for the rest of the night. 

  Once Cyno is assured this strange transformation isn’t dangerous nor necessarily permanent, he’s rather laid back about it. He finds it quite funny (evidently) and there’s no way around it, you’re cute like this. Not that he didn’t consider you cute before, but it’s especially unavoidable now. 

  There’s no real way to stop him from making jokes or puns about this situation, it’s in his soul—and though you wouldn’t trade his soul for the world, you get moments of temptation when his brain hyperfocuses on one thing to centre his jokes around. 

  They get a bit tired.

  You follow him around everywhere, it’s not like you’ve got better places to be. He thinks it’s rather adorable to see you trotting around at his heels as he walks through the city, though he tells you to remain home when he has work to do—it can turn dangerous sometimes, depending on the day, and he recognises that your body is smaller and more fragile than it used to be. 

  He does always come back right away, he wraps up any follow-ups and paperwork as quickly as he can—if only for the moments of arrival. Of opening the front door and being greeted by you sitting at the entrance of your home, staring up at him with a swaying tail. Waiting excitedly. 

 Dainsleif;

You’ve never seen this expression on his face, in the moments after you touched a strange-looking artefact, there’s a poof—and your body shifts to that of a small cat. It wasn’t painful, nor do you feel as if you were cursed in any way. 

  “... meow?” 

  Dainsleif stares at you, lips parted slightly, he’s positioned with one foot forward as he had been in the process of rushing towards you to hopefully stop you from touching what you shouldn’t… but he was a tad late. 

  He straightens and takes a breath. Okay… from one mystery to another. 

  He approaches you and picks you up—a bit awkwardly, as if he doesn’t know how to hold a cat—and you’re too confused and disoriented as to what just happened to process you being turned back towards the round artefact. Dainsleif takes your front right paw and makes you touch the artefact again.

  Nothing. No glow, no poofing. 

  There goes his only idea. 

  The following days were confusing and mildly frustrating. It’s been a while since Dainsleif traveled alone, and though he isn’t technically alone—you’re still there, it doesn’t feel the same. He’s quite struck with the confrontation that he’s become very accustomed to your presence and how much he’s come to rely on it. 

  He’s a bit quiet and distant from you for a few days, while it makes you sad—if anything, you should be the one who needs comforting—you do try to slowly approach, you know that he can run the danger of isolation. 

  After starting a flame one evening in the alcove of a cave beneath a bright starry sky, Dainsleif sits down to rest for the night. You walk over with slow steps, careful and quiet, before sitting down next to him. 

  Far enough that you’re not touching, not even your tail… but close enough to be present. 

  His eyes slide towards you, and his head follows. “... what is it?”

  “Meow.”

  His eyelids squint, unsure what to make of your reply. Your answers always make sense to him… but what can he decipher from your feline face? The only familiar part of you is your eyes, shining under the light from the flames. “I see.”

  You doubt he deciphered any meaning from your meows, but he’s engaging with you now. Progress. 

  Trying your luck, you move closer. He stays as he is, watching you closely.

  You move closer yet, your tail touches his coat. 

  Dainsleif sighs. 

  You stop. 

  He can’t particularly feel your presence, not yours—but there is a presence next to him. It is yours, despite the fact he can’t sense it… and perhaps one day, were he to outlive you as if likely, he will have to find your presence in something you’re not. 

  And though you are this weird-looking cat, somewhere between a sentient human being and a feline animal, you’re still you. 

  The same, those same eyes, the very same gaze and mind. 

  He reaches out and sets his palm onto your furry head. Dainsleif pets your head slowly, and you nuzzle into his hand. You sit in silence before the swaying flames.

Diluc;

He can’t help but think that you might’ve done this on purpose. 

  Diluc has been very busy the last weeks he’s been coming back home to the winery late, leaving early—getting up in the middle of the night and waking you up when he goes out for his Darknight hero duties—and though you rescheduled it for next week, missed a dinner in the city that had been booked in advance. 

  He does feel bad, Diluc wants to spend all the time he can with you, all his free time and more—but with the winter months drifting by, business in the winery booms as people stock up on wine for the holidays. Businesses buy in bulk for holiday menu changes, and such. 

  And now, after hurrying back home when he was contacted that “something had happened” to you… he’s standing in front of a cat. 

  He thought you might’ve been hurt, or sick—he had run so fast his hair was loosening from his usual tail. 

  And while you’re not hurt or sick, you are… different. Something definitely happened. 

  He sits down and you climb onto his lap, sitting down and pawing at his chest, small meows leaving your small mouth. Diluc strokes your back and ruffles your fur with both hands. “How did this happen?” he knows you can’t answer him, but he can’t help but ask anyway. 

  You rise up on your hind legs, front paws on his chest as you lick and wet his cheeks. Diluc’s eyes close and his face scrunches up. “H-hey, stop that,” he puts his hands around your torso and holds you away from his face, your little tongue bleping down out of your mouth. 

  A smile tugs on his lips at the cute expression. 

  He still has to attend to his job, but while he usually handles most things himself, Diluc does accept help from his staff now that you’re… like this. So now he has more time for you, which isn’t exactly how he intended to spend that free time—searching for ways to turn you back, and having you loafing on his lap and being unable to stand up and fetch his coffee. 

  He’s not going to move while you’re so comfortable… he wouldn’t do that even if you weren’t a cat. 

  Not the biggest fan of the hair you leave around you, he needs to wipe his clothes thoroughly after you’ve so much as looked in his direction.

  You get so much attention around the winery it’s not even funny, every employee pets you, gives you treats and treat you like you’re more of a royal cat than just a normal person turned into one. 

  Diluc came home one evening to see you loafing on the sofa, a shiny bow tied around your neck and a bowl of treats next to you… in reach for whenever you wanted it. 

  He had a conversation with the staff about making sure you don’t eat so much that your stomach will hurt… and that maybe not make you get too comfortable like this, he wants to turn you back to normal after all. 

Kaedehara Kazhua; 

He thinks it’s adorable, Kazuha is a rather laid-back person overall, and he’s certain you’ll be okay—so why not have fun while you’re like this? 

  It started all fun and games when on land, Inazuma is filled to the brim with foods that cats would love, every shop has some form of fish or vegetables that Kazuha can share with you…

  But as soon as you go out on the open ocean, it’s over. 

  Kazuha has never seen you so violently unhappy on the ship, every rock of it makes you yowl and dig your claws into whatever you’re standing on, be it a crate, table, bed or Kazuha’s clothes (you ruined two pants, but he doesn’t particularly mind). 

  You have an irrational (or very rational) fear that you might be tossed off the ship and into the ocean at the slightest dip of the deck. Kazuha does his best to calm you and comfort you, he even offers to make a harness and leash for you so that he can yoink you back if you happen to fall overboard. 

  You don’t find his idea as funny as Beidou does.

  Thankfully, you don’t get tossed overboard you don’t spontaneously die or have any other terrible event happen to you—and you’re so thankful to touch land that you hop off the side of the ship and to the harbour the ship docked by before it can even properly be tied down by the dockworkers. 

  Kazuha leans over the railing of the ship and calls your name, a bit worried—he hopes you don’t get lost before he can catch up to you. 

  It takes a while for the ship to dock and open up for people to leave, Kazuha convinces another person on the ship to take his duties for a while as he rushes out to find you. He’s not worried you might get yourself in trouble—you’re rather good at keeping out of it, but he doesn’t want you to get lost or have to spend all day looking for you.

  Even though that’s kind of what he’s starting to do right now…

  Kazuha shoulders past the crowd in the busy markets of Port Ormos, it’s early noon and it’s starting to fill up. The Crux has stocked up here often before and thus the both of you are quite familiar with it, but the winding streets and large crowds filling the markets can make it disorienting for even seasoned visitors. 

  After looking around for longer than he cared for, Kazuha finally spots your tail disappearing behind a corner.

  Kazuha picks up his pace and somehow manages to catch up to you, perhaps the soft breeze is on his side, as he swoops up next to you and scoops you up into his arms.

  He smiles, ducking out of the crowds and into a small alley where some crates are stored for the market stalls. “No need to run away, you’re safe on land now,” he holds you like a baby, your paws in the air as his arm holds your back steadily. “Though you are also very safe on the ship, I won’t let you fall overboard.”

  You meow gently, Kazuha isn’t sure if you’re thanking him or expressing concerns… but the way you look up at him in this position is pretty cute. “Let’s find some good food, hm?”

Kaeya;

Funniest shit he’s seen all year. 

  Kaeya tries not to look like he’s very happy this happened—so long as he knows it’s not dangerous or permanent—or that watching you lick yourself to clean your fur isn’t very amusing. 

  He brings you everywhere, lets you follow him around and even holds you and lets passersby pet you…

  Kaeya is just straight-up treating you like a real cat.

  At this realisation, that he was acting like you were a pet, and not his very real (though cat-like for now) partner and previous human… you got angry! you wriggled in his grasp, surprising him and causing Kaeya to almost drop you—he righted his hold and blinked at you with a confused expression. “What is it? Did I hold you wrong?”

  A series of angry meows and swats of your paw later, Kaeya was none the wiser. 

  He tried to bait you to “forgive” him with some nicely cut fish… and it kind of worked, that was some good fish. 

  Kaeya sits by the table you’re on as you gobble down the fish he bought you, he leans on his fist with a smile and watches as you lick your muzzle after getting fishy-oil on it and shake yourself when you accidentally dip your whiskers into the water next to the plate. 

  The sun almost makes it seem like your fur shines and sparkles under it and as you sit down, belly full and satisfied, Kaeya reaches out and scratches behind your ears. “Did you take behavioural classes before this? To behave like a real cat? You’re really nailing it.”

  You make a huffed sound, but reach your head further into his hand. 

  He tries to get you to play with toys, he buys a stick with a bundle of feathers on the end in hopes that you’ll chase it when he dangles it in front of you… but when he sat down with you on the floor of your shared home and dangled it in front of you…

  You stared at him as if he had just grown three additional heads.

  Kaeya pouts, he wriggles it a bit—and though you follow it around with your head, you still sit where you are and don’t move.

  Not until he lowered the toy and the feathered end touched the floor.

  You pounced onto it.

  Kaeya pauses, blinking at you in surprise. You look up like you got caught with your hand in a cookie jar. 

  And then he just laughs, he wriggles the toy again and you swat at it in frustration for making you leap at it like that, you’re not a real cat!!

Kamisato Ayato;

He doesn’t leave you alone. 

  You’re trotting along the engawa of the estate on your way to find a nice spot to nap—and suddenly, you’re swooped up into his arms. Ayato smiles and strokes your head. “There you are, my dear. I was searching for you,” he hums and turns around to walk into the estate. 

  Ayato spends about half the day—and sometimes more—in his study tending to paperwork of many kinds. Unusually, you would lend a hand and help with the neverending piles on his desk, but you’re little help like this… still, he demands that you “lend your paw” and sit on his lap the entire time. 

  It was nice at first, he’s got a nice lap to lay or loaf on, and he would scratch you in spots you couldn’t reach yourself, or just stroke your back… but after five hours, you really want to stretch your legs.      So, you squeeze out from under his arm and stretch next to him, letting out a big yawn—only to find a finger poking your tongue?!

  The bastard actually stuck his finger in your mouth when you yawned. Ayato smiled, all smug and somehow innocent at the same time. You meowed in disapproval, but it went straight over his head, as if he had any idea as to what you had just said to him, insult or not. 

  He also keeps pinching your toe beans, sometimes making your claws stretch out and then back in—even in the middle of the night, he rubbed your paws and stuck his finger between the beans. What is wrong with this guy. 

  Other than messing with you and pulling your leg, he does provide the best food and treats—as usual, you have the privilege of accessing the clan kitchens and being made food by them on a daily basis and it never fails to make you nearly cry with how good it is.       And even now, as you sit next to his desk and his dinner is brought to him (even though you’ve tried to ask the staff to not bring it to him, and that he has to eat outside of his study or else his ass will get stuck to the floor) you are given your own tray of dishes as well. 

  Gobbling down the freshly made meals tailored to you even in this form, Ayato is happy that you seem to have a good appetite. He had been concerned that this… situation might stress you out and you wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep. 

  Despite his endless workload, Ayato somehow finds the time to pamper and take care of you between his busy schedule. He sits down with you in the gardens and brushes your fur, rubs your cheeks and kisses your nose (and you need to wet it again every time). As if you were a little fur baby for him to take care of. 

  He still talks to you as if you were as you always are, though Ayaka uses a baby-voice like one would use with a cat (she tries not to, but fails), Ayato speaks to you normally. He plucks the seeds out of a small cube of watermelon before feeding it to you as he recounts his day, humming in affirmation as you meow back about your own… he doesn’t understand it, but you need to get it out as well. 

  Your snout is practically pink by the end of the watermelon bowl, and Ayato gives you that smile… oh no. 

  “It’s been a few days now, and you ran around the garden yesterday… and now you’re covered in melon juice. Why don’t I ask Thoma to warm a bath to wash your fur?” he asks innocently, and watches in amusement as you shoot out of his lap and flee into the estate. Not a chance. 

Kaveh;

Kaveh gapes at you. You stare up at him. He blinks. You blink.

  “H-hah???!” he scoops you up—accidentally upside down, but you just flop in his arms, still blinking at him from your angle, you know he won’t drop you. Kaveh rights you and brings you nearly nose-to-nose as he stares into your eyes. “How did this happen? You were just—I was… this…”

  He holds you a few centimetres away so neither of you go cross-eyed. “... Do you understand me?”

  You nod and raise your paw, pressing it onto his cheek.

  Kaveh doesn’t move his face away and lets your paw just press against his skin. “Okay, you’re… uh, aware… how do I fix this?”

  “Meow.”

  “...” right. Maybe this was a stupid question. 

  Kaveh goes a bit overboard, he researches the best ways to take care of a cat, the best foods, beds, toys—everything. And suddenly, he comes home after a short day at work (he has more important things to tend to!) with… so much stuff. 

  You stare, dumbfounded, as Kaveh carves out a cat-space in his and Alhaitham’s house… did he get Alhaitham’s permission to do this? You somehow doubt it. 

  After everything is set up, he stands and sets his hands on his hips with a wide smile. “What do you think?” Kaveh asks, looking down at you sitting by his feet with a swaying tail. “I think it fits very well, the colours compliment our living room—and I tried to arrange it in a way that mostly hugs the wall and doesn’t intercept with the flow of the room—”

  He’s rambling again. You don’t mind when he gets going and his interior design skills ARE good, despite it not being his expertise, it goes hand in hand with architecture. 

  But… did he consult the other half of this house before doing this? 

  You found out quickly, you had just settled in the high cat-bed that hung on the wall, giving you a good view over the living room as well as a height advantage to him (now you get why cats enjoy the high ground)... when the front door opens and a very familiar Scribe enters. 

  Alhaitham wasn’t even aware that you had turned into a cat, to him… he just came home to see a random cat in the living room—and that it was arranged completely differently to give you space. 

  Thankfully Alhaitham has a good few brain cells to rub together between his fingers, and isn’t quick to rise, so he looked to Kaveh and tilted his head towards the kitchen… where they had a lengthy discussion, where Kaveh explained everything to him and asked him if it was okay…

  Which is a tad late when he’s already rearranged the entire living room and gotten you comfortable there… but fine. So long as he takes it all down and makes everything as it should be once you’re back to normal. When asked, Alhaitham said he was too busy to help turn you back and told him to consult the library. 

  Kaveh is a hugger in his sleep, and you’re a victim (you love his hugs). He practically wraps himself around you and holds you to himself the entire night—and don’t you dare try to leave, he’ll wake up and whine about it. He does sometimes squeeze a bit too much—you’re not as durable as you usually are, you’re just a little kitty…

  He gets cuteness aggression when you do anything mildly affectionate. Rub against his legs while he’s at his desk, loaf on his lap and slow blink up at him, lick his hand when he strokes your head… Kaveh tries his best not to squeeze you or shake you like a keychain, he bit into his own hand once to refrain from biting your full cheek of food once. 

  He drew a full sketchbook of you over the span of two weeks, he can’t help it—you’re too adorable and he wants to keep the image of you forever. 

Neuvillette;

Not chill about this, Neuvillette was immediately concerned with how to turn you back and if this curse-spell could have any permanent effects on you. He doesn’t really have many tomes to consult, nor are there many people he could ask for advice as to… how to fix this. 

  After some time, and you rubbing your furry cheek on his arm and leg to try and calm down his nerves, Neuvillette does slow down. He’s usually very calm in the face of the unknown or danger—but he’s never had to deal with direct danger (or not, he hasn’t figured out if it’s dangerous or not yet) when it comes to you. 

  Thankfully, you’re still there with him, just… a bit smaller, and furrier… and you smell a bit weird—still like you, but also with a tinge of something else. Perhaps that part of your scent has always been your humanity. 

  And now you’re a cat. 

  He’s never owned a pet before—and you’re hardly a typical pet, and thus consults the only person he can think of. Furina (though he’s unsure she’s ever owned a pet either?).

  And she loves you, she already likes you well enough—but like this? You’re getting picked up, petted, smooched, pampered and loved. Neuvillette just stands a bit awkwardly as Furina gets it out of her system and you get dangerously close to being fed up with her hugging and smooching… you’re not an actual cat! You just look like one!!

  After being freed from her clutches, Neuvillette holds you with more dignity for a while until you feel safe enough to walk around the ex-Archon’s home (and won’t get swooped up again). When the initial chaos is over, he sits down with Furina and they put their heads together to try and find a solution to this. They write down how it happened, what exactly changed—your mind is the same, your scent as well as your eyes. Though your fur has turned a shimmering white regardless of your head and body hair colour before. 

  You look like a big snowball. 

  There’s no real conclusion to the first session of brainstorming, but they manage to narrow down that though neither was there to see what exactly happened, it was likely a spell, or perhaps an artefact you touched (where would that even happen inside Fontaine?) or something along those lines. 

  Thus, Neuvillette takes you back home for the night. He’s a bit stiff around you, he doesn’t interact much with animals and though he won’t avoid them if a cat approaches him on the street (he’d mostly greet and nod at them) he hasn’t exactly had to care for one before. 

  He has to rely on asking you yes or no questions that you can nod or shake your head to, and makes it through the first few days like that. And while you’re… cute? (He’s not entirely sure how to describe you) Nauvillette does much more prefer you in your normal state, where he can communicate with you, hold your hand and touch your cheek without getting sniffed at by a wet nose.

  Not that Neuvillette doesn’t enjoy petting your fur and scratching under your chin, it’s just not the same. 

  It is very amusing to watch your head move left and right as you sit on the kitchen counter and watch Neuvillette prepare dinner—mostly for himself as you don’t eat typical foods now. He offers a small piece of a carrot and watches as you crunch on it for a good thirty seconds until it’s mushed enough to swallow. 

Tartaglia;

Another situation of; the funniest shit he’s ever seen. 

  He brings you everywhere—Childe has no concept of ‘pet-free zone’ because you’re not his pet? You’re his partner? His beloved? Why is he being shooed out, you’re on a leash and everything (half chewed apart because you refuse to wear it with dignity and do all in your power to get free, how dare he put you on a LEASH).

 Of course, initially, he was confused and rather concerned. He thought you might have been attacked, or targeted and thus had been made into this… cat, maliciously. 

  But you honestly seem pretty undisturbed, so he is as well. Calm cat, calm Childe. 

  He dresses you up before taking you outside—not necessarily for fun, but rather because it’s insanely cold in Snezhnaya in these months, and he doesn’t want you to be a block of ice after a few minutes. So he goes and buys some puffy coats, socks and a warm blanket for your return. You feel like you look like an idiot (you already look like a cat…) in all these clothes, but his cooing and smooching make it less annoying—mostly because now your annoyances are focused on him. 

  His siblings don’t really understand that it’s you, not at the younger range—and Childe just tells them that you’re a cat he and you decided to take care of for a while and that you’re busy elsewhere. Tonia doesn’t seem as convinced when Childe keeps smooching your nose and rubbing his cheek against yours. 

  Embarrassing enough as it is, Childe starts to call you nicknames now—it isn’t entirely unusual, but they’ve always been normal… now he’s calling you “Combat kitten” and “Fuzzy comrade”... worst of all was “General toebeans”

  You wish you could tell him to stop, but all you have are meows and hisses. 

  Snezhnayan homes are made to withstand cold and harsh winds, and thus have excellent central heating systems… also known as a fireplace—and a furnace elsewhere. And curling up on some soft blankets or a plush chair by the furnace as snow gathers on the windowsill and winds brush against the exterior of the house… there are few places more comfortable to take a nap.

  Unfortunately, Childe’s humming and singing from the kitchen disturbs your perfect peace, but you’re just glad he’s having fun. You’ll live. 

  And he brings you some treats, places a small kiss on top of your furry head and sits down in the other chair, dragging the one you’re on to be next to his so that he can stroke your back and belly when you eventually flop on your back for more attention. 

  He’s pulled every string and contact in the Fatui to try and figure how to turn you back (except a select few who will either be last measures or just straight avoidances despite advice they might give) but hasn’t had much luck so far. Thankfully you've only been stuck like this for a week or so, and thus it hasn’t been so long to be concerning. 

  Perhaps it’s just a matter of waiting it out, and Childe is surprisingly patient. 

Thoma;

The Housekeeper stands in surprise as a cat is suddenly plopped into his arms. “Ah… is this… a new house pet…?” the Kamisato estate doesn’t exactly have pets, there are some cats that come around and nap in the gardens every now and then and leave after a while, but this cat is staring at him as if they’ve known him their entire life.

  Ayato only hums as he’s already turned to another task, rushing from one thing to another as the busy days of summer come along. He doesn’t have much time to explain—nor is there much to explain. He had borrowed you for a few minutes to help him with something, he turns around for a moment, and the next you’re a cat.

  Thoma stares at him, silent for a time. He’s not entirely sure if Ayato is messing with him or not—it’s entirely possible, and par for the course for his lord—but as Ayato shakes his head and waves his hand in dismissal, he speaks again. “I already have someone looking into it, take care of them in the meantime. I’ll have someone fetch you if there is news.”

  You’re actually a cat. 

  After leaving Ayato’s study and sitting down outside where the afternoon sun has begun sinking towards the oceans beyond the cliff the estate sits on, Thoma stares at you as if he’s not entirely sure what to do with you. 

  Despite the initial confusion (and the followed concern, but it’s quickly dampened somewhat, Ayato has someone on the case and he trusts him to find a solution) Thoma is a very responsible person. He makes sure you’re not uncomfortable at all despite some estate staff vehemently refusing to let you in specific places… such as the kitchen. Fair enough. But there are also certain rooms and areas that have to be kept very clean and they don’t want cat hairs to get all over the place. 

  Thoma brings you around, he’s got many places to be, and he’s sure you’d like to stretch your legs anyway—it’s always nice to leave the estate for a few hours and run some errands. He had to head down to a nearby village and see whether trade agreements were coming along smoothly, they produce a lot of high quality rice and are often stuck in trade deals with large towns and clans for their rice—and for a well enough reason. Recently, Ayato had struck a deal with them and everything was signed and well along its way, Thoma just had to go and make sure they had everything they needed for transport. 

  It was a good walk, but you kept up easily… somehow having four legs rather than two makes you less tired after walking for some hours…? Or perhaps it’s because your body is so light now, you don’t know much about cat anatomy. 

  The meeting went well and you didn’t linger for long.

  Unfortunately, a heavy downpour began to fall on the two of you as you headed back. Thoma quickly scooped you up and tucked you into his jacket—it’s not much of a jacket, it barely reaches below his ribs, but it was just big enough for him to cover you (and lean a bit to cover you better) and pick up his pace to run back to the Kamisato estate. 

  After making it back inside, the rain was as if a waterfall had opened in the heavens to drop down on the roof. Thoma’s hair is wet and sticks to his cheeks as he sets you down. “Ah, that was close,” he laughs softly. “Are you dry?”

  You shake yourself after being pressed against his chest for so long and sniff around your fur, then give him a nod. 

  “Hah, that’s good, I’ve heard cats don’t like water much,” he smiles. “I need a change of clothes, come with me?”

  You let out a happy meow and follow him along further inside. 

Venti;

Cooes at you and talks to you with a baby-voice, he puts both thumbs on either side of your cheeks and rubs your face like it’s dough… even though it makes his nose red and his eyes puffy—despite the cursed allergy that torments his everyday life (there’s so many cats in Mondstadt) he doesn’t let it stop him from being around you. Pestering some healers for a medicine that could help, he feels… less bad, but it doesn’t really dampen the itch in his eyes and throat well enough.

  He doesn’t take this situation seriously at all, at least not nearly as much as you do—you should probably trust his reactions and instincts, as he’s far more knowledgeable than you (even though he doesn’t act like it at all) and if you were in any danger, he wouldn’t be smooching your cheeks and nuzzling you like HE’S the cat. 

  Thus, you try to calm down, to focus on just getting through the days and not feel embarrassed when you have to clean yourself or relieve yourself as a cat. 

  But Venti also doesn’t make it easy for you, he builds a “throne” for you out of books and pillows for you to have the high ground (he doesn’t want to put holes in the wall for a hanging bed) and gives you “Mondstadt’s finest tuna” that tasted very much like a normal piece of tuna, but you appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

  Sometimes you really wonder if he was the one who cursed you just so he could mess with you and cuddle you without you being able to fend him off. Not that you would be particularly opposed to cuddles in the first place? He could just ask?? Besides, why would he choose the form of a cat out of every other pet considering his consistent sneezing up a storm around them.

It doesn’t add up, you discard your theory.

  You can’t sleep in the same bed anymore, both because Venti moves a lot in his sleep and being a cat does not make it safe, he could crush you! (as if he’s heavy enough to do that) and because he might well and truly pass away if he had to be so close to your furry-ass for such a pronged amount of time… and thus, Venti makes a nice bed for you out of blankets and pillows next to your usual one where you can rest.

  There was a time where these new cat instincts took a bit too much over, and when you were chasing a crystalfly on a walk along the roads outside the city, you had hopped onto a big rock—and after missing your chance to catch the crystalfly, you hopped onto Venti and tried to eat his braids. 

  He yelped in surprise, but laughed once he realised what you were doing. “My hair isn’t for eating, it’s no good for your digestion either!”

  You felt embarrassed about this little incident, and he kept making fun of you for it—though not necessarily maliciously, Venti just thought it was funny that you didn’t go for his hat, but his hair instead.

  Climbing to the top of the Mondstadt cathedral or the statue of himself isn’t your favourite pastime, but it’s surprisingly much easier in this form—and thus when Venti suggests you go to the top to play some songs, you had been hesitant at first.

  Making it to the top, Venti sits down comfortably as if he’s done it a thousand times (you sometimes suspect he climbs it to make you feel better, because you know he can just float up with a gust of wind) and pats his lap for you to sit down. 

  You plop yourself onto his thighs and settle comfortably as the sun sinks below the horizon, Venti takes out his usual lyre and tests a few tunes to ensure it’s properly set. “Let me play you something nice, it’ll help you sleep.”

  And it is nice, your ears flick as his fingers dance along the harp’s strings, he hums along with it but doesn’t sing full words—the vibration of the song calms you and you rest your head on your paws. 

Wanderer;

“You are the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  He’s being dramatic, you’re not that ugly… but…

  Why did you have to turn into a hairless cat? 

  You feel strange, and perhaps you would also feel the same way if you had a lot of hair, but every single breeze makes you feel you are especially naked—because you are!

  Wanderer isn’t exactly happy to have to take care of you—he will do it, of course, but he will also complain about it. You were perfectly independent and functional as a person before you just had to go and sniff some plant in the wild that poofed you into a cat before his very eyes. 

  He refuses to seek help to find out how to turn you back, not because he doesn’t want anyone to know that you’re a cat, but rather because he’s certain he can handle it himself. 

  You whack at his arm with your paw, meowing up a storm after a few hours of not being fed the day after—he had completely forgotten that he needs to prepare something digestible for you… he’s never had to take care of a creature like you before—what can you even eat?? He clicks his tongue. “Don’t swat at me like that. You’re human, act like it…”

  You’re not human right now!! Give me food!!

  Eventually, he does begin to take proper care of you, even though he keeps telling you that you look like a peeled potato… you don’t have many ways of retaliation except whacking him with your paw or hissing when he lightly pinches a big patch of your skin. 

  Surprisingly, during one strangely cold night when you were curled on the bed and trying to stay warm—even the slightest drop in temperature was very cold to your hairless body… you feel something soft drape over you.     Half-asleep and cold, you squint up and scrunch your nose as your whiskers squish against the blanket, you see Wanderer turn back around after setting it over you. Hah… he’s soft under that hard shell as always, even if he tries to act aloof. 

  After several days of no luck in trying to turn you back, Wanderer does begin to cave to asking for some… advice. Not help. Advice.

  With you in his arms, head reaching towards the market stalls of Sumeru city (literally everything smells good and extremely edible) as he passes by, Wanderer takes you to meet with Nahida who is rather enthusiastic about this mystery. She pets you and smiles, humming as he recounts what happened and describes the particular flower you smelled. 

  “Hm, I have an idea, but it’ll take a while to execute… do you think it’ll be okay for them to remain like this for a few more days?” the archon taps her chin in thought, mind swirling with ideas and possible solutions. 

  Wanderer huffs, not exactly a scoff, and clapped his hand onto your head. “It’s fine.”

  But as soon as you returned back home and he set you down on the living room table, Wanderer points at you. “You better turn back to normal soon…” he folds his arms over his chest, his expression isn’t as tight as it was before. “I don’t want to deal with this forever. Just get back soon.”

  You inch closer to him on the table, reaching your paw out to tug his sleeve closer—only to rub your head into his palm. He clicks his tongue. “Whatever… don’t think this counts as an apology. You’ll have to make up for it properly when you’re you again.”

Wriothesley;

You are, quite possibly, the smallest cat he has ever seen. 

  He holds you in the palm of his hand, it’s adorable. Wriothesley cracks a grin and lifts you to eye-level. “Hm, you’re not nearly as scary like this, no one in this prison will listen to you like this.”

  You want to whack him on his nose, but politely refrain—if only because you don’t want to get dropped. You meow at him, ferocious and upset at this situation, you have a job to tend to! Things to do!

  But Wriothesley has other ideas, he sets you down on his desk and sits down. “Now, how did this happen? I assume this wasn’t intentional?” is he teasing you? Most likely. He knows you can’t just answer his questions, and you assumed he would be slightly more concerned when a guard brought you to his office…

  But no, he instantly recognised you and dismissed the guard. Had it been the eyes? The fur? Is he somehow responsible for this??

  All unanswered questions, and though he sends out word to some people he thinks might be able to help decipher this mystery, he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to get you back to normal. He sets you in the pocket of his vest (it’s embarrassing that you actually fit) and goes on with his days as normal. 

  Siegwinne was initially very concerned, she seemed much more sensible in her worries that leaving you in this form for too long might be dangerous and that the Fortress isn’t exactly a good place for pets. There are a lot of crevices to get stuck in and things to get hurt on.

  Though you still retain your mind, so you should be alright in that sense… so long as you don’t get overly curious. 

  He is undeniably very warm, and cuddling up to him at night is very comfortable—especially now that you can just lay on his chest and snooze there and not worry about being dragged back into his embrace if you move too much in your sleep. You barely move at all in this form.

  Come morning, Wriothesley was already awake by the time you open your eyes, he strokes your fur and scratches behind your ears. Having a day pass by does make the initially amusing situation a bit more… real. He doesn’t want you to be struck with a permanent curse, or some kind of spell that might harm you in the long run. 

  “Don’t you worry,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “I’ll make sure you’re back to normal soon, just stick close by.”

  And you do, mostly because you couldn’t have been blessed (cursed?) with a normal-sized cat body, but possibly the smallest there could be. You can’t even jump up onto his desk by yourself and have to yowl at him to let you up. 

  He does so happily, surprisingly eager to carry you around and help you with the smallest things. 

  Wriothesley doesn’t even change in mood from amusement when you chase the pen in his hands as it glides across paperwork he signs, you leap onto his arm and try to whack at the pet in either some strange instinctual haze, or an attempt to play—and though you whacking the pen makes it seem like he has the handwriting of a toddler, it’s just rather funny.

  The Fortress doesn’t exactly have a large variety of foods, not in the sense that it can be adjusted for the diet of a cat that isn’t accounted for during inventory fills, and thus Wriothesley sends for specific ingredients that won’t be heavy on your tiny little stomach. 

  And he also… got some cat-related things delivered, like a bed, some string toys and treats. You never used the bed, either preferring his lap to nap on, or just slept in the strangest places he never even imagined you could reach with those stubby legs. 

  But he’s a very responsible caretaker, at least, that’s what he claims as he holds you down to brush your teeth and you wriggle and flail like an eel. 

Xiao; 

Very worried, he didn’t even realise the cat sitting in the clearing of the forest was you at first and searched for you for several minutes before seeming to realise that you had just… shrunk. Into a cat. 

  He stares at you for a good minute, lips parted and eyes large… before your name tentatively leaves his mouth.

  You meow in affirmation, standing and shaking yourself as you try to understand the situation yourself—still a bit disoriented. 

  Xiao approaches you quickly and kneels down in front of you, he lifts you up to your hind legs, puts you down and inspects your ears, your tail and under your paws. You meow in curiosity as to what he is doing, and surprisingly he seems to understand your question. 

  “There might be traces of whatever did this on your body, it will make it easier to track or reverse,” he says and even checks inside your mouth, which you weren’t really happy with. 

  Unfortunately, he doesn’t find any answers, and kneels there rather awkwardly with you in front of him… what now? This situation has stumped him a bit—he’s supposed to be able to keep you safe from all manners of danger and curses like this (perhaps not exactly like this, he never prepared for this exact scenario) and now that he’s not got many leads to fix it, his mind is a bit aimless in where to search for information. 

  He has no idea how to care for you, and while he has vague ideas of the behaviours of animals…they mostly stem from wild animals and their reactions to foreign presences in their territories, or similar scenarios. 

  What does a meow mean? Is there something wrong? What does it mean when you paw at the door? Do you want to go outside? But it’s two in the morning?

  He severely overestimates the portions of food you eat, giving you a full plate of something the Wangshu Inn kitchens prepared on his request (they figured out what happened and have been trying to help him, but Xiao is still trying to be subtle and secretive about the situation) and being confused when you only ate a fourth of it. 

  Are you sick? Was it the wrong kind of food?

  He brings you along with him on his hunts, while he could leave you at the inn… how can he be sure that you won’t get into trouble? The window is high above the ground, what if you tumble out of it? What if you try to climb up on the dresser in the room and get stuck? Or fall down and hurt yourself?

  No, you’re safest with him, even if he has to wield his spear with one hand and hold you with the other. 

  He’s surprisingly good at it too. 

  Desperate after a week of unsuccessful herbs and potions he tried to make, Xiao caves and contacts Liyue Harbour and the adepti that reside there for help.

  It seems his message had gotten into Cloud Retainer’s hands, and instead of any actually helpful advice on how to turn you back… she had sent an entire booklet of cat behaviours, diets and how to take care of them.

  Helpful, sure… but not exactly what he was asking for. 

  One evening as he was out on the usual hunts, he noticed that you were walking slowly by his side, yawning and rather cold so high in the mountains. He didn’t even have to think about what might be wrong or what to do, as he had already scooped you up into his arms and teleported back to the inn, where he sat down with you on the bed. 

  “You should tell me when you’re tired…” he grumbles and tugs one of the covers on the bed to his lap where he wraps it around you as if bundling a baby up. Xiao reaches up and scratches behind your ears as your eyes blink closed in the comfort of being back in the warm room.

  He had only been petting you for s few seconds when he felt you… tremble? There was a strange rumbling sound coming from you, are you uncomfortable? He doesn’t quite understand it… but you continue to rumble as he scratches your head and ears. 

  Ah, was this the ‘purring’ he read about in one of the booklets Ganyu sent him? How… cute.

Zhongli;

“Ah…” Zhongli stares at you, this isn’t quite what he had imagined would happen… he had been crafting a potion in hopes it would help Ganyu sleep better, she had been overworking herself (again) more than usual and was so tired that she couldn’t sleep. It can happen. 

  The combination of herbs and materials required for the potion he had put together wasn’t very suitable for humans, and of course he made sure to let you know so that you wouldn’t drink it… but he hadn’t expected that only being touched by a single drop onto the back of your hand would lead to a poof, and your size being reduced and body turned to that of a cat. 

  You had only wanted to help by handing him ingredients so that he didn’t have to turn around so often… you didn’t anticipate this either!

  He makes sure the potion won’t burn and sets a lid on the pot before turning towards you. “I… had not foreseen that this could have been a danger to you, my apologies,” he kneels down on one knee and holds his hand out for you to sniff. You do so, snout twitching towards his finger before you bump your head into his palm. 

  “Have you retained some sense of consciousness?” he wonders, gloved hand moving to stroke over your small head, your ears flattening under his palm. “I’m sure I can find a way to reverse this.”

  He was sure, at least. But after some research and testing… he wasn’t making any progress—at least, he wasn’t making progress in finding ways to turn you to your normal self without some potential risks or aftereffects. 

  What he did find, was that the herb that you had been touching, and the potion he had halfway crafted was similar to another concoction that he had made before—and the effects of that had only been temporary. 

  It seems you will simply have to wait until the effect wears off. 

  Zhongli had instinctively prepared a delightful meal in the way he knows you would enjoy while you sit in the kitchen counter and watch with interest, your tail swaying happily as you watch him chop some vegetables and set them into the pot… but halfway through the process as he’s setting spices and herbs into the pot, Zhongli realises that more than half of the ingredients in the pot are unsuitable for cats to eat. 

  He finishes the meal and sets it aside, before fetching some fish you had purchased just yesterday that he was going to use for lunch tomorrow and cut it into nicely bite-sized pieces. You tilt your head slightly as you watch—the meal he had just been putting together doesn’t have any fish in it?? What’s it for?

  And honestly, when he plated your food (in a very professional and presentable way) and set it down on the dining table, then set his own on the other side for himself… you felt a bit offended. Raw fish, some rice and a hard boiled egg… next to his delicious smelling beef stew… 

  If you could’ve cried, you would have. And Zhongli felt pretty bad for the rest of the day, he tried to offer you some “safe” treats or make it up to you with some pets and scritches, but you still sulked.

  You had looked forward to this dinner all day…

  Thankfully you got over it rather quickly and Zhongli is glad that he didn’t offend you too badly… it seems having been turned into a cat had made you quite dramatic as well, he doesn’t recall you ever having sulked like this over a meal before.

  Knowing that it was simply a waiting game, Zhongli isn’t very concerned about your state, but he does ensure that you’re comfortable and not afraid—he understands that perceiving the world differently like this can be strange and even scary, but he’s glad when it seems that you’re relatively calm. 

  Your nightly routines are slightly out of whack now—something that Zhongli isn’t very fond of, he quite likes it that after cleaning up after dinner, the two of you settle in the living room for a while. He tends to read and it varies what you get up to, but it’s always a shared time where you sit in silence or chat about your days.

  He does talk about his day to you, sitting on the comfortable seat in the living room with you on his lap, Zhongli recounts his day to you and expresses that he hopes you weren’t too bored alone in the home today, and that perhaps he can convince the director to allow him to bring you for a day. He strokes your back and smiles as a rumbling purr leaves you, he scratches under your chin and touches his forehead to yours as you seem to have fallen asleep on his lap. He reaches for his book and decides to read for a while before taking you to bed. 

  Despite the mishap, he’s glad you’re safe—he will endeavour to be more careful in the future and ensure you won’t be hurt or disturbed by his work. 

  And never has this feeling of not knowing what to do with you been as strong as when Welt sets you down on a circular table in the common room car… never did Dan Heng foresee the day that you stared up at him in the form of a cat so small he could likely tuck you in his pocket if he so wished—or you, knowing cats. He looks up at Welt; confused, a bit concerned, and perhaps a bit exasperated. “What happened?”

  Welt doesn’t need to tell him that it’s you, he recognises that knowing look of shame you’re giving him, which is greatly exaggerated with those massive kitten eyes of yours… which he is finding difficult to respond with a neutral expression. 

  “The streets were crowded, I think they accidentally stepped on a cat’s tail when dodging a group of children running by,” Welt said, fingers curled below his chin in thought. It was the only notable event he could think of that might have caused such a sudden transformation.

  Dan Heng looked down at you as you licked the side of your stomach, curling like a sausage to reach it. “And… the cat cursed them into becoming one for a while?” 

  “Presumably, and hopefully only for a short time,” Welt nodded. Though the notion in a vacuum that you had been ‘cursed by a cat whose tail you stepped on to become one’ was almost fantastical… it’s not too hard to believe. You seem to have gotten very unlucky to cross a cat sage of some sort. “I had considered the curse might be lifted if we locate the cat culprit… but I had no luck tracking it down, not when they kept trying to run after every smell that reached their nose,” he tilts his head towards you.

  Sensing that they were talking about you, ear flickering a tiny bit, you lift your head up and blink at them.

  Dan Heng sighs. “I’ll take care of it, you keep searching for the stolen artefact with March 7th in my place.” The reason for their stop at this world was a bit less important to Dan Heng now than your state was.

  Welt nodded and left, wishing the two of you luck—and that if none would grace you, to message the Express group chat and they’ll have to put your cat-state on priority. But Dan Heng was confident he could figure it out without having to drag everyone else into it as well.

  Considering the fact that your mind hadn’t been completely taken over by instincts, and you seemed to understand him perfectly, Dan Heng decided not to put you in a bag or on a leash as the two of you headed out to search for the poor cat that you had crossed. It was quite amusing to see you jumping and jogging along on fences or curbs next to him as well, he wonders if you can really tell how nimble and lighter your body is like this, or if it feels completely natural.

  Taking a short break after searching around for two hours with no luck, Dan Heng purchases some dried fish from a vendor and sits down on a sidewalk to offer it to you. You trot over, sniffing at the treat before accepting the treat. It was strange to eat, your teeth work in a far more different and strange way than you’re used to and the dried fish practically rips apart at the same time you try and swallow it.

  Dan Heng startles when you hack and cough, quickly turning towards you. “Did you choke on it?” he reaches out and strokes your back, soft fur sliding between his fingers. It didn’t seem to stand in your throat as you shake yourself and sniffle, a small smile touches his lips. “Careful not to eat so fast, I don’t want to have to take you to a vet.”

  If you could, you would give him a deadpan expression. You didn’t eat too fast at all! 

  After finding some water to give you in hopes you would stop grumbling and turning your back to him, Dan Heng ushers you forward to continue your journey of finding the poor cat you wronged. It took a long while of searching—so much so that the sky had darkened, the streets lost their crowds and only local shopkeepers went out and about closing up and concluding their businesses for the day.

  “Where exactly did the… incident occur?” Dan Heng asks you as the two of you walk along an alleyway, there’s a small shop open to your right selling pottery where an old man is dusting off his wares. 

  Two strings of meowing leave you, but it’s rather incoherent… Dan Heng touches his chin in thought, he was rather sure the two of you had checked the nearby scenes of the incident thoroughly, but it didn’t seem like you remembered entirely where it happened. Welt did mention that it had been crowded.

  You continue meowing as if trying to tell him something… but it’s impossible for him to try and understand from the sound alone. He squats down to get closer to your level, lifting a hand to stroke along your head. “What are you trying to tell me?” communication has always been a strong suit between you, you can tell him anything—and he’s never felt that he couldn’t confide in you. Losing that connection left him feeling a bit lost. 

  You can’t just type on a phone keyboard either, or hold a pen. “Does it hurt? Meow once for yes and twice for no.”

  Two quick meows, that’s good… “Are you still hungry?”

  Two again. “Tired?” 

  One, slightly longer meow. Ah. “Do you want me to carry you?” he asks again, already moving his hands towards your smaller body. You paw at his knee, as if insisting.

  Carefully, Dan Heng sets his hands under you and lifts you into his arms. It’s a bit awkward for a moment—he’s not entirely sure how to hold you, and you feel as if you will tumble from his arms any moment in this position. He clicks his tongue slightly as your claws dig into his clothes, holding on tightly even when he tries to shift you into a better hold. “I-I’m trying… hold on—ow, stop. Let go for a moment.”

  After nearly having to peel you off his shoulder where you gripped him so hard, Dan Heng finally shifts you onto your back… so now you’re laid like a small babe in his arms. It feels a bit awkward, but also very comfortable.

  He looks down at you, a little exasperated, but with a faint smile. “Better?”

  Your little paws kneat at his chin where you can reach it. He’ll take that as a yes, a very cute yes… he kind of wants to bite your fluffy cheek, he’s not sure where that desire came from.

  Just as he was about to suggest the two of you retrace your steps, perhaps you had missed something—you perk up and look towards a balcony across the street—nearly twisting your neck back so far you tumble out of his grasp. Up on the third floor… lays a furry, pristine white cat that sleeps away the day. 

  “That’s the cat?” Dan Heng looks down at you, and sees the way you stare up at them, ears turned back. 

  He approaches the building and looks up, clearing his throat… this will look a little silly, especially now that he has you held in his arms like a small baby. “Hello, please look down here if you can understand me,” he calls up to the cat. They don’t have a collar on, so there’s no name to go by—and Dan Heng is quite a bit too far away to see even if it had one.

  You wriggle a little in his arms and he leans down to place you on the ground, but instead you dig your claws into his jacket and climb onto his shoulders. “H-hey now…”

  A series of meows he can only assume were curses and berating is hurled from you towards the other feline, who seems wholly unbothered… their tail sways a little but they don’t even bother to stand up. The audacity!

  Dan Heng again, manages to peel you off and sets you on the ground next to him. It’s probably best to approach this with more… diplomacy. 

  Curling your tail around your front paws, sitting like a cat that just did something they shouldn’t have and at least feels a sliver of shame, a low; “Mmrrow…” leaves you, truly shameful. So much so that Dan Heng felt the need to pet and reassure you, but that can come later.

  “We would like to apologise for what happened early today,” he nudges you with his foot, hoping you didn’t completely squander your chance of normalcy with your… meowing. Whatever it was that you said. “What happened was an accident, and we’re hoping we can either make it up to you, or be granted forgiveness… you see, we won’t be staying for long, we’re travellers, and my partner is rather indisposed like this.”

  The cat continued to stare, their bright blue eyes were unblinking—but the amused sway of their tail seemed to imply they didn’t outright hate you… hopefully. Maybe they are just happy to see you miserable like this. That could also be true. 

  The white cat finally stretched and sat up, licking their left paw a bit before lazily hopping down. With some pipes running along the side of the building as well as a lamp pole by the wall, the cat could easily hop down to the ground. 

  The two of you wait a bit stiffly as the other cat approaches, trotting towards you where you wait… before raising the very same paw they just groomed, and whacking you with it. 

  Dan Heng stiffens, his muscles tense—for a moment he worried he would see splotches of blood between your fur, or hear a yowl of pain… but all that came was another thud, four precise whacks with retracted claws and you were thoroughly scolded.

  He breathes a sigh of relief. 

  The white cat licks their paw again, turns around and wriggles to hop up again—but is intercepted by Dan Heng. “W-wait, will they return to their usual form?” 

  The cat gave him a side-eye and hopped up again to where they were before… the agility was impressive, and Dan Heng looked down at you… what? You’re not jumping all the way up there, contrary to the popular belief held by everyone who has seen you today. You’re not actually a cat.

  Dan Heng scratches his cheek in thought. “I presume… you communicated a little with them?” he tilts his head, but only gets a meow in return. You don’t seem too happy, it doesn’t seem that the other cat gave a good answer. He should probably be prepared to deal with this for a while.

  Sent back to the Express with your tails between your legs, the two of you decide to head back out tomorrow if you haven’t turned back by morning. Himeko accepted Dan Heng’s proposal to wait for another try to let him try and resolve this. 

  His bed on the floor of the Archives is uncomfortable on the best of days… but in a small form like this, you’ve found that you can get comfortable anywhere. 

  Dan Heng sits down on the mattress with a sigh, he rubs his forehead and looks down where you’re curled comfortably. His hand strokes down your back. “If you’re still stuck like this tomorrow…” then what? All he can do is find that cat again and hope they show you some mercy. Perhaps if it’s a spell of some sort, it can surely be reversed?

  Perhaps the Archives have something on this, he hadn’t even checked them to see fi he could perhaps undo it himself. 

  His lap is suddenly heavy. Just as he was about to stand up.

  You’ve curled yourself comfortably over his crossed legs, incidentally as soon as he was about to get up… but seeing your paws tucked beneath you in a loaf and eyes squinted closed, he can’t muster up the strength to push you away or pick you up and move you. 

  He supposes he will just sit here now. 

  Dan Heng scratches around your ears and feels the rumbling emanating from your small body against his lap. At least you’re comfortable… he’s been so focused on turning you back that he hasn’t properly considered how disorienting or uncomfortable you must be. Sure, he did ask you if you were in pain during the day, but he hadn’t properly sat down with you. 

  “Are you still awake?” he hums quietly, your right ear flickers at the sound of his voice. Asking an open question like; ‘How do you feel?’ seems a bit useless. His hand moves to scratch over your head and on spots he imagines you couldn’t reach easily. “You won’t be stuck like this for long, I’ll find a way to revert you back.”

  He went with reassurance instead, it came quite easily to him—especially when you crane your head back to stare up at him like that. A small smile tugs at his lips, and he strokes his finger over your nose, making you sneeze lightly and shake your head. “Before you know it.”

  He’ll check the Archives tomorrow, right before you leave. For now, he’ll let you curl up on him and rest… it’s been quite a stressful day. 

  Usually, Dan Heng and you don’t sleep bundled up like buttery pastries. Cuddling and such is nice, he’d never turn you down… but when asleep, he likes to be able to toss and turn and get comfortable through the night. 

  Which is an impossible task at this time. You plopped yourself down on his legs and didn’t move an inch the entire night. Curled up like a roll yourself, you slept soundly and comfortably while he fought for his life to fall asleep on his back… and stay asleep without being able to turn as he wished. 

  Not to mention your spot became so hot he was sure his knees were wet with sweat after the night. 

  Dan Heng had just barely managed to sleep half the night… when you rise from your position and stretch, walk around him as he finally turns on his side—freedom, he thinks… for only a moment before you start pushing at his back. You then circle him and sniff at his forehead, and nudge at him more.

  You’re hungry.

  Trying to get some more rest before you wake him up entirely and it’ll be too late, Dan Heng turns the other way… but you just trot around the mattress and continue to pester him endlessly until you resort to jumping onto him and meowing insistently. 

  “Urgh… alright, one moment—please get down,” even half asleep, groggy from the night and dealing with a cat-version of the person who usually sleeps without rousing him through the night. He sits up, hair tousled in all directions and shirt twisted uncomfortably as he watches you practically run to the door of the Archive. 

  Dan Heng shakes his head, he tries to somewhat combat his bed head before tossing on a jacket and following you towards the kitchen… what could he even feed you? Something nutritious… but if he just puts a bunch of things in a blender and in a bowl you will bite his finger off. What can cats have? 

  This time, Dan Heng left you behind on the Express and searched for the white cat by himself—mostly because he didn’t want to cause a diplomatic incident… again. He didn’t have much time, the Express would depart in a few hours—but what if he can’t convince the cat to turn you back? Are you… simply stuck like that?

  You’re cute and all as a furball… but he much prefers your usual self. Especially now that you’re leaving, and the next destination isn’t predetermined. It wouldn’t be idea to take a cat to a dangerous place.

  Dan Heng arrives back on the same street as the day before, he looks up… but sees no cat. An old man is setting laundry out to hang on the balcony, and seems confused by Dan Heng’s staring. “Could I help you, young man?”

  He pauses, looking around… no white cat. “Ah… I apologise for disturbing you. Do you happen to own a white cat?”

  “A cat? No, no. My wife is allergic, we don’t have any cats,” he shakes his head and fastens a long sheet to his balcony. The white fabric sways idly in the afternoon breeze. 

  “I see… do you know if your neighbours might?”

  The old man taps his chin in thought and leans his wrinkled forearms on the balcony edge. “Hmm… old Gustave used to have rats, and bred two handfuls of them! Lovely little things, smart too!”

  Dan Heng stood a bit awkwardly, craning his neck up like this to look at the old man was uncomfortable. “Anyone else…?”

  After a moment of consideration, the old man shrugged. “Not that I know. Young Maria runs fast as a horse, but she’s no pet… and neither a horse. But you see, I grew some roots a few seasons back, and I gifted everyone in the complex some of it. Young Maria made a carrot cake, what a coincidence… her husband can’t be a horse, he didn’t have any of it, or perhaps he can’t have… eh, what’s it, flour? Is that a common allergy?”

  “... thank you for your help, I’ll keep looking,” Dan Heng fled before the old man could continue. 

  He didn’t have any other luck. It was as if the cat had completely vanished… he searched for hours, until his phone began to ping with messages. The Express would leave soon and March was worried he could be in trouble (with what, cats?) and not make it back in time!

  Defeated once more, Dan Heng made it back to the Express in good time. Welt stood by the door, ready and waiting… with you sitting beside him, eagerly waiting as well—tail swaying happily as soon as the door slid open to reveal him. 

  “Any luck?” Welt asked, giving Dan Heng room to step up into the carriage. “We cannot stay here for long.”

  “I searched the entire town,” Dan Heng shook his head and crouched down before you, you hurriedly pressed your small furred head into his open palm. “The cat was nowhere to be seen.”

  “Perhaps we can phone some friends, someone on the Herta Space Station might have a solution,” Welt wondered, already taking his phone out to create a group chat… your ears flatten against your head slightly. Great, is every single associate or friend you’ve made along the journey going to know you’ve been cursed to be a cat for (presumably) forever?

  You suppose that’s your fate, never does favour turn their gaze to you. Please aeon of luck, turn your gaze and relieve me from being a cat, and give me fifty million credits.

  Dan Heng rubbed your ear. “Hey, are you listening?”

  Your head snapped up to him, large eyes empty and stupid. 

  “Let’s ask Pom-Pom if your… smaller form needs any extra care for the warp jump,” he says and straightens. “I’d rather not have to scrape you off the wall.”

  You follow after him to search for Pom-Pom. Though you might lose it being a cat forever, it does offer its own up sides… Dan Heng keeps petting you. 

  Maybe the Cat Curser will let you keep the ears and tail, then he has no excuse to stop petting you. 

  As you leave the carriage, a small form moves outside the window. A thick layer of fur with bright eyes sits outside of the Express, just barely out of view. The elegant cat watches as you and Dan Heng disappear into the next carriage before turning away. A small portal appears next to them and they stretch a little before hopping in... it zips closed right behind them and disappears with only faint shimmering left behind.

you're running out of supplies. there's so little left ( a few protein bars and some bottled water left unvapourized post crash ) and it's sickening to think of the decisions after. you know that perhaps, swallowing away the last few bits of horror is a wiser choice. you need to step out some time. you need to forage and restock and --

gingko leers closer. its stink makes you gag. you want to empty your stomach out -- meager rations and stomach acid. all of it.

the things have not left their prowling. they still wait, watch, wonder. some have started to pace at the boundaries of the impact site and poke at the metal covers of the ship. you hear their clicking at night. the garbled distortions gurgling at their throat. their eyes are empty, a once human caricature that's twisted itself inside out.

you take a breath in. you breathe out.

"get up." you tell the pathetic face reflected on the metal cannisters. "there's nothing else to be done."

the reflection blinks back, sad eyed, tired eyed. you grimace and set it aside, shakily rising up and sweeping through the past logs you'd left behind. comms are still down. the delivery packages don't have much to eat save for spare clothes and jewelry. one had a model set of one of the newer ipc ships, complete with two tiny pilots to sit at the cockpit.

your old crewmate had tried to assemble it before his fingers grew numb and he'd curled up to rest ( it's still on the side table, unfinished. you couldn't touch it. the grief just refuses to unstick, still lost somewhere out in the stars.

he was the youngest. he had a future to look forward too, a little more shine in his eyes and a flush to his cheeks. a little more breathless awe that he's chatter through with messy sticky note art and his stumblings over countless books over white holes and rouge planets. )

the garbling spikes up. you catch a shadow by the frosted windows. you freeze.

then silently, you're curled into your corner again, white knuckled as you stare at it, left with nothing but shaky hands and the wild heartbeat ringing in your ears.

you died when you do step out. the things had found you wandering past the abandoned crates, scuttling forth by the pack-full and dragging you into the darker corners as their scathing cries tear your eardrums apart and their claws scoop your insides open.

you'd then woken to see muscle and tissue and visceral matter grow back and stich together -- neurons reconnecting, muscular tissue reworking, epithelium taking form over it all.

and you...you watch in muted horror.

you keep foraging after you discover you cannot die. it;s something that had fundamentally changed about you -- the reworking of your body. it's clinical terror at it's finest, the breaching of unnatural surreality. even if the delivery company finds you, the ruling ipc body will just cut you open again and again.

you hunch your shoulder, hugging the walls. there's still nothing here. nothing more to pick at and the hunger still gnaws at you with the days passing by. your shoes scrape against the grit and grime and you peek out. the way through is empty. good, your mind rings, followed by a wave of uneasiness that refuses to push itself down.

you scamper to the next hiding spot. it's painfully slow. you're short of breath.

again, you scuttle out, take a turn.

you stop.

one of the things are here, face down and half disintegrating into yellow flakes. it doesn't breath, staying stock still as blood polls and fans out beneath it. you almost bend over and retch, but you take a shaky step forth, then another and take a closer look. it looks like the others, differently built, but still clad in the same rusty armour ( the kind whose clinking warns you of their approach ).

you take a knee and try tugging the helmet off. the branches creak. it doesn't budge.

your fingers pitter patter over the surface, nudging a little anxiously. it doesn't wake. it almost seems dead. you want to banish that thought and keep moving -- the abundance is a face long gone from the cosmos. the remnants of it may have scattered into the cosmos, spores taking to planets to let it's mycelium take root. it's not a thing easily killed.

at least you think this thing is one of it's monstrosities. the aeons are beings you'd rather not think too much about. you are not one for blind fanaticism. it's a belief worn out of you over the years in bleak emptiness.

a bit of cloth is tugged down. "fuck." you mumble, shaking your head. you almost sob. "fuck what am i doing?" the cloth is pulled further aside. there's a sliver of grey, and something cool, soft, corpselike.

human.

your stomach flutters. you peek up the helmet. the skin of it's face had distorted, overgrown and pressed against the metal till it fuses into the surface. this time, you do vomit.

fuck, fuck, fuck you do not like what you're seeing. you need to keep going. keep going. keep going.

you shakily stumble back up and jog past the body, almost slipping over the coagulated blood. it coats your palms and your head spins as you wipe it at the sides of your clothes, spiraling down further and further in. there's a spin to the world around you, the spotting of the environment, the blurring of the grates to the flickering morning and night cycle.

a rumble vibrates against your feet. you gasp, it's a dry, panicked sound, breaking into a run. your muscles scream and you nearly fall over at your pants catch against one of the metal barriers. you whimper, your water cannister falling behind you. you hear it roll down and hit a stairwell. still, you run.

you jolt to the side and scramble between two crates and crouch. a few of the things skitter by. there's distress in their voices. there's fear in how the wrestle past just as the air seems to electrify and you start smelling the stinging of ozone. it's like a distant rumble, thunderous, a dangerous clutch against your ribs. you make yourself as small as possible. you feel small, pushing yourself deeper in, slotting just inside a small nook and out of sight.

you do not see it walk past. you hear it, measured steps against the road. your hands clamp over your mouth, biting away that muffled blubber. you cannot die, you remind yourself. even if it finds you, you cannot die. and you have died a few times already...there's little to think of save for staving over that hunger. so little.

and you remember the pain. the screaming ache. the pain it comes with. you remember the agony of fixing yourself back together. you remember the gaps in your memories, the hazy edges and the way you'd forgotten your date of birth, your mother's face.

you squeeze your eyes shut. your breaths are laboured.

there's silence.

the footsteps have stopped.

you open your eyes. you see the looming shadow cast on the road. you still don't see it. you watch it shift, metal scraping against metal. you hear it huff ( is it amused? ) and something falls. something rolls and hits the storage containers in front of you. you watch wide eyed, your cannister rolling back, past your little way out, down, down, down the street and stairs.

the noise is loud. uncomfortable.

you want to scream till your vocal chords give out. you want to tear into your face, your eyes, your mouth. you do not.

the footsteps start again. they fade till it's echo is near inaudible. and you wait, paranoia settling into the cracks while your world starts to distort into the lines of madness. finally, as the sky flickers for the umpteenth time and you feel like the world has settled, you crawl out of your hiding spot and breathe the air in.

you smell gingko.

a hand closes around your neck. you're slammed against the metal walls as a cheek presses into yours. you just see silver, a pretty silver just as your windpipe cracks and your throat gives in. you stop clawing at your hands, broken wheezing rattling your chest. there's a blurriness. your tears fall. the figure lifts your chin up, vermillion flooding past. you feel like ice, like the charred remains of a corpse.

you can't make out his features. it's smudged. but you see the cold contemplation.

and you let death have you again, and cast you aside. you have no place in it's bedside.

you wake once more where it had left you. your bones are still stitching together, your inhales pained and the soreness of your back aching against the metal. you stare into the space across listlessly waiting, waiting, waiting.

how wonderous, you think, half giddy from asphyxia and the taste of sweat in your mouth. you could feel the knitting of damaged tissue in your throat. how bizzarre, how sickening.

you feel a little less human, your last name sinking past the surface, out of your grasp, away from your protests. you try to remember. you cannot.

you see it...him properly after a few more outings. the same silver hair, the same red dipped gold eyes. and he watches you too, an empty smile curling over his lips. the most human thing you'd seen far, yet not. it's an unnecessary addition. you wish you'd both never crossed paths.

"oh."

"oh?" he echoes, amusement lilting at the edges. it's playful, menacing. you take a step back when the frost at your feet melts away and ozone pervades your senses. he lingers, let's you fall back, let's you panic.

and you run.

and he chases.

and you die, under his breathless, rumbling laughter.

( the madness is a waiting beast. you know you cannot keep escaping it. but still, still still, you try to dance and still, still. still, it tries to pounce.

it's simply the way of things now. plain and simple ).

TAGLIST ノ join the taglist. — @silentmoths @meimeimeirin @sleepynoons @endursent.

@jessamine-rose @ofoceansandtombsanew @thatkawaiidesubitch @afterdarkwithkaeya.

@pomegranate-eater

  Kaveh didn’t need much to be convinced, and immediately he thanked the Archons for giving him a few days of respite. Even just a few days of Alhaitham being unable to comment on what he does or nag him is a blessing.

  For you, it’s a bit of a hassle… because he keeps disappearing! Not in an alarming way, because you find him again in the most secluded, quiet spots you would never even think of. Under your laundry, in an empty box that Kaveh hadn’t put away after getting a delivery, and even under the desk in the study—Kaveh accidentally kicked him and got a feisty scratch on his ankle. He learned his lesson. 

  He follows you around and—though he let you pick him up the first time—doesn’t let you carry him around, preferring to walk on his own… and wander off to explore nooks and crannies he has never been able to see, but he always shows up again before you reach your destination. 

  He has also claimed your pillow as his own and refuses to let you use it, loafing on top of it exactly when you thought you could get there before him. Which… in hindsight is fine, you’re not opposed to using his pillow, it smells like him after all. 

  You decided to test how much of a cat he really is, whether it’s appearance alone or instinctual as well and bought a cat toy with a whisker on the end as well as a small bell below it. You expected him to perk up and try to whack or catch it as soon as you wriggled it beside him… but his grey furred ears just lowered in annoyance and he hopped off the kitchen counter, it seems like having even more sensitive ears in this state makes his dislike for uncomfortable noises more intense. 

  He forgave you when you spent ten minutes scratching the itchy spot behind his ears after tracking him down. A small, rumbling purr left his chest as you moved your hand to scratch under his chin—he was, however, more curious about this instinctual reaction and demanded you continue after you drew your hand back.     Despite it being very much an unspoken rule between the two of you that neither of you should be disturbed ‘needlessly’ when reading or working at home, when you borrowed a few books from the Akademiya to try and figure out how to turn your partner back to normal, Alhaitham decided it would be very reasonable for him to lay down over your book… which you are very much trying to read.

  But when you ask him what he needs, he just blinks at you three times, very slowly. You’ll likely never be able to crack that brain of his, even in a form that is somehow far more expressive.

Arataki Itto ;

It’s difficult enough to keep track of him—and keep him out of trouble—on a normal day… now? You took your eyes off him for a second, and he’s gone. Shinobu split up with you to cover more ground while the rest of the gang scoured the streets of Inazuma City, at least as much as they could.

  You peek between baskets, crates and stalls, walk through tight alleys and even squint into a few windows… nothing!

  You had been very close to giving up and returning back to the meeting point by the bridge… until you heard a very distressed, very loud meowing. Following the sound, you come to a tree stretching over the gardens of a teahouse. What looks to be the owner of it stands below the tree with a basket, trying to ask Itto—stuck up on a wobbling branch—to jump into it.

  Exasperation is one way to describe what you feel as you approach the old lady, you put your hands on your hips and Itto notices you immediately. His meowing turns from frantic and panicked… to a sheepish pleading. Every movement he makes causes the branch to sway and wobble, and it looks like it could easily bend and break—and you don’t want to cause any trouble for the teahouse owner. “Itto, come on, hop down.”

  He meows and shakes his head, white fur swishing dramatically. 

  A sigh leaves you as you step closer and hold your arms open. “I’ll catch you, trust me,” you encourage him… and he finally relents, with wobbling paws, he leaps from the branch—fur shining in the sun as he practically flies in the air towards your open arms… and lands on your head. He panics and tries to adjust and not fall off, and you try to pry him away from your face as his belly nearly suffocates you—it’s a scene from a comedic play.

  Shinobu is glad for her mask, because when you return with Itto under your arm you have scratches on your face and forehead, and Itto is whining and meowing sorrowfully. 

  He spends the entire evening licking your ‘wounds’, dragging his coarse cat tongue over every spot so often that the licking starts to become more painful than the scratches themselves. But you let him, it makes him feel much better than you—and you don’t particularly need comfort, but if he doesn’t get it, he will whine all night. 

  So you let him knead your thighs and stomach even as his claws prick through your clothes and you make sure to pet him and stroke his fur when he snuggles against you… and then you wake up in the middle of the night, suffocating with his furred belly against your face when the lies on top of you.

Baizhu ;

You’re very happy that Baizhu is catching a break—something you often try to convince him to do—despite the strange way of being forced into it… however, it’s very difficult to focus on running the pharmacy in his place by yourself while also trying to make sure he doesn’t roll off the shelf he’s napping on… especially because Changsheng wriggles in her sleep and keeps nudging him closer to the edge.

  You decide it’s easier if you have them sleeping on separate surfaces and reach up to pick up your pliant partner-turned-cat. He effectively falls into your arms and blinks lazily, slightly confused by the sudden transport. “Just moving you so you don’t hit your head,” you dodge around Qiqi as she runs past you with an armful of jars and set Baizhu down on the counter, his tail sways lazily and he immediately flops on his side as a beam of sunlight sneaks through the window and directly onto his fur.

  Every time a customer comes by—with approval—they give Baizhu a small pet or scratch before leaving, as if paying tribute to the good doctor. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  Unfortunately, you’re not fit to take Baizhu’s place for consultations, and thus they all get delayed—which was a hell of a lot of work to contact everyone and change scheduling—until Baizhu is back to normal. The usual hours of consultation in the morning are therefore replaced with longer opening hours of the pharmacy and by pulling some strings, an increased stock of rarer products at a discounted price. 

  Changsheng does not let poor Baizhu catch a break, she wiggles her tail and swipes it in front of his paws, and unable to control the feline instincts harbouring his body—Baizhu chases after her tail like a kitten playing with a toy. He whacks at it and tries to capture it, but the white snake is far quicker than even you expected her to be as a sudden game of cat and mouse (snake) takes over your living room.

 The feline form, however, doesn’t come with free stamina—and Baizhu is not in good shape. He flops down on the carpet, exhausted from the play even as only seven minutes have passed. You feel a bit bad and scoop him up for some cuddling, which seems to be just the remedy he needed. 

  Baizhu is very careful around the clinic, he doesn’t knock anything over—even though he REALLY wants to sometimes, and is mindful of not getting fur or saliva on anything that could potentially be consumed by anyone with allergies. Changsheng has taken to wrapping herself around your shoulders instead, and though you’re used to her, it’s a little annoying to get a comment on every little thing you do. 

  But at the end of the day, Baizhu curls up next to you and you wake with him lying over your chest, belly to the skies and paws in the air, comfortable and content. Though you will always prefer him in his normal state, he is very cute like this.

Cyno ;

You look around the large front hall of the House of Daena, panting slightly as you try to catch your breath… that damn Cyno! Making you chase him across the entire city! 

  You spot some pawprints and squint as you look around… he’s not bringing all that dirt into the house—you were just going to rinse him a bit, but he’s run off! You finally spot dark and creamy coloured fur… perched up high on a massive decorative piece of the wall. He looks down at you with a swaying tail, completely at ease knowing that you won’t be able to catch him all the way up there.

  You almost consider inquiring about one of those massive ladders the library has to reach the high shelves, it might be long enough…

  But very well, he wins this round. 

  Once he turned into a cat, you were very excited about petting him, rubbing his ears and stroking his tail—but he’s not having any of it. Sometimes, you wonder if someone stuck a firework in his ass and lit it up, because the bouts of zoomies he gets is so frequent you wondered if there was something wrong—but you couldn’t catch him to take to a vet either! 

  After the first few days, Cyno seems to calm down… a little. He still prefers to survey the area (your living room) from above (your bookshelf) and watch you go about your day. It’s quite cute how his perked ears twitch every time you make a noise, as if he’s completely focused on what you’re doing.

  You soon find out after stepping a bit too close to the bookshelf that he might have just been waiting to strike, because he leaps onto your head as soon as you’re in range. 

  The only reason you know he’s fully conscious in that furred head is because while you were cleaning up after dinner, you spotted him sitting next to a cup of tea that was half-filled. You tense as you watch his paw raise to knock it off. “Cyno! Don’t,” you try to sound scolding.

  He looks up at you, he lowers his paw… then raises it again, making you glare at him. He lowers it again, turns away… you turn back to wiping the dishes and look over your shoulders after a few seconds—his paw is raised again!

  This back and forth continued until he finally knocked it over.

  And then he has the audacity during the next day’s dinner to sound like he has never been fed in his life while you’re trying to eat in peace. Meowing at you so loudly one would think he was terribly injured, eyes wide and mouth open. You hope your neighbours don’t think you’re trying to starve him, or treat him horribly.

Dainsleif ;

He’s not happy about it, he has things to do—places to be and investigations to make. Thankfully you’re familiar with where you were going next… but Dainsleif is very limited in what he can do. You decide to give him the task of scouting and sneaking around, something he’s used to doing anyway… but he finds that it’s much more effective to do so as a cat. His footsteps are completely silent and his senses are much sharper.

  Though, he had an instinctual need to swat at a glowing orb that you found in a strange vault half-buried in a cave in Fontaine before he could stop himself—which closed the two of you inside the vault. Thankfully he is now small enough that he could slip out between the bars and unlock it from the other side.

  It is quite cute how his ears flattened as you walked out, as if he was sorry. Though he seemed okay after you scratched behind his ears and assured him it was okay, he was here to help you out after all! His tail swayed in satisfaction to your assurance.

  You start to set down camp for the night, having just one pair of hands makes it a bit more of a lengthy process, and Dainsleif can only sit and watch as you put it together. He’s usually quite distant, even in a relationship—but as you straighten from squatting to fit something down, you feel something press against your leg and see him rubbing his furry cheek against you, then walking around your legs, tail trailing behind.

  He’s usually quite wary and alert, even during the night when you try and convince him to sleep—and it’s no different now. He sits poised and ready… for what? He’s a cat. But you appreciate the effort. 

  Surprisingly, he’s very active at grooming himself, the two of you usually have to bathe often anyway as you frequent dusty caves and muddy backwaters, but every time you make a stop, he sits down and starts licking his fur—at first you wondered if he was frustrated by something or had hurt himself, but as you picked him up to examine for any injuries or strange patches, he just blinked at you, tongue still half-hanging out.

  Dainsleif is rather laid-back when it comes to your relationship, there are times where you want to stay in a larger city for a few days or weeks in between travels, to have a soft bed and four walls around you—which Dainsleif doesn’t mind, there are places he wants to look into where he’d prefer you are safe elsewhere. He knows where you will be and will stop by to ask if you’re ready to continue days or even sometimes a few weeks later, to which you—recharged and rejuvenated—jump at the chance to follow him out of the city.

  But now, as a cat, he doesn’t leave your side for a minute—not even when you need to use nature’s bathroom. You went into a small village in Sumeru when passing through and a vendor was particularly pressing about selling you some type of perfume that you had shown brief interest in—Dainsleif had enough of you being pestered and whacked his paw at the man’s leg, hissing. He would usually be more subtle about guiding you away, but he doesn’t have the presence he usually does as he is now, so he must utilise the aggressiveness given to him in feline form. You take the chance to scoop him up and hurry away before the vendor can get upset, petting between his ears and thanking him for the help—he rubs his cheek against yours. He’s surprisingly more affectionate like this as well.

Diluc ;

Your nose itches… you try to hold back—achoo!!

  Diluc jumps, claws scuttling against the ground and he leaps from his resting spot and hops down to the floor. You sniffle and shake your head. “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” you stand from his chair and round the table to squat down next to him, reaching a hand out. “Did I startle you?”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound, fur red as freshly bloomed roses. Diluc bumps his snout into your palm and huffs into it, you turn your hand and pet along his back. “Aaah… you’re so cute~ so soft,” you near coo as you scratch behind his ears—

  Diluc shakes himself and ducks under your hand to walk past you—how dare you baby-talk him?! He’s not an actual cat! The scritches felt too nice, and his ears flicked when you cooed at him—it’s embarrassing…

  He sits down by the door, tail swaying lazily as a small meow leaves him. Let me out. 

  You pout, how can you not convey how cute he is? You want to rub his cheeks. But fine, you  walk over and open the door for him to slip out of. 

  Diluc likes the lounge around the fireplace in the estate, there’s not much work he can do  while you try to figure out how to turn him back—preferably without alerting his brother or any of the knights… or just anyone in general. Unfortunately, he can’t hide it from the staff of the Winery as he is a spitting image of himself in cat form, and you’ve caught more than three people trying to feed him expensive cheeses. 

  It’s only in the recent days that you’ve convinced him to settle down and use the time to rest and nap as much as he can, but Diluc was extremely restless at first, you had to trap him inside a room and trick him into lying down with you.

  One day, Jean came by looking for him, and you had to think fast to come up with an excuse while he had just leapt under the sofa to hide. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to need him urgently, so she just left a message behind and went back to her day.

  You fell asleep in Diluc’s study, trying to keep up with his paperwork—Adeline offered to help you, she’s very familiar with his work, and it’s not like it’s been a long time since he wasn’t there to do it… but you wanted to help, and as the sun sank below the horizon, you laid down on the sofa in his study next to a tall bookcase—only closing your eyes was enough to pull you into deep sleep.

  Diluc hops onto the sofa next to you, he carefully walks over your thighs and settles on the armrest where your head is. His fluffy tail sways and strokes your chin and nose—nearly waking you as you almost sneeze, you don’t have to work so hard for him, he knows you want to help. He wishes he could tell you, and he will, when he’s back to normal. For now, he rests alongside you, head leaning against the top of yours and tail tucked against your neck.

Kaedehara Kazuha ;

Kazuha is a very chill cat, he doesn’t get into trouble, he doesn’t cough hairballs on the floor and he doesn’t knock things over.

  (Instead of coughing hairballs on the floor he swats them off-deck with his paws, Beidou caught him doing it once).

  There’s not much trouble to get into on the ocean, and he’s rather good at keeping out of trouble overall on land, sticking by his side is a sureway to a boring day of exploration or lounging around—which is your perfect type of day.

  You help him into your bag as the Crux ‘boards’ by Liyue Harbour (it stops a bit away and tucked by a cliffside to avoid attention) and you make sure he doesn’t accidentally fall into the ocean as a few crewmates row to land. You’re stopping for a few days, so you make sure to use the time to relax and take in landside air and wander around the expansive Harbour. 

  Kazuha likes to take life at a slower pace, and thus your walk to the Harbour took longer than you expected… as you thought Kazuha was doing his normal meditation on a warm, sun-kissed rock along the road…

  But he was asleep, sitting up and enjoying the sun. It took you thirty minutes to realise—a sitting cat with its eyes closed and a sleeping cat in a sitting position is the exact same.

  He very much likes to people-watch, but in this cat form, he seems even more engaged—he can hear sounds more clearly and he seems even more perceptive than usual. Watching a tea maker brew a cup on a teahouse table you had sat by to rest and ordered some snacks. He sniffs at the tea as it’s placed in front of you—he’s perched comfortably on your lap, you’re surprised the teahouse even allows him inside—and seems to appreciate the detail he gets from this new perspective, af if it smells different in this form.

  He tries to taste it and your food, but you have to block his snout with your hand, you’re not sure if the food you were having would give him a stomach ache or not. 

On a walk on the outskirts of the city, you look back and see Kazuha carrying a stick in his mouth…?

  He’s not a dog, so you’re not entirely sure why he’s doing it, maybe cats do that too? The dogs that hang around the bridge leading to the southeast outside of Liyue Harbour try to approach him with the stick, thinking he was playing, but he hops into a tree to keep it to himself. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but he seems to be having fun.

  Kazuha wanders off oftentimes, just in his normal, usual body… so you’re not sure why you’re surprised when you suddenly find him missing from your side—perhaps it’s because he’s a cat and you’re unsure if he can defend himself as well in that form, but you hurry to look for him.

  You practically run in circles until you find him pressing his paw to a brown, crusty leaf… again and again, as if listening to the crunch of it in a rhythm. You sigh and scoop him up into your arms. “Don’t wander off like this,” you scold and poke his nose. Kazuha sneezes from the poke, but blinks up at you and nods his little furry head.

Kaeya ;

Unbothered, in his element. Kaeya sleeps in your windowsill and bathes in the sunlight all day while you scratch your head over how this could’ve happened. You try to leave for work and he practically screeches at the door, likely pleading you not to leave—he does that normally as well, except without the loud meowing. 

  Kaeya finds appreciation in the flexibility and grace that comes with this new body, he easily leaps up on shelves and dives under the sofa, he chases flakes of dust and seems to be having quite a good time—perhaps it’s because he has no responsibilities in this form, he can’t go to work like this and has no control over it. And the loss of control is strangely freeing. 

  You scoop him up into your arms and his tail swishes happily, he grabs his claws into your shirt and purrs as you rub his ears, happy and content with the additional affection. He loves all affection he gets from you no matter what form it takes, and being a cat has given him the opportunity to be pampered in ways he never could experience as a human. 

  He does need his free time as well and he uses it well while you’re out of the house—though you were very optimistic to think that closing the windows would keep him contained, Kaeya easily flips the handles and slips out of your home. He enjoys the attention he gets from any passersby, but is careful not to be too affectionate and get picked up by someone who thinks he’s a stray. 

  His usual guarded front lowers in this form, he feels like he could slip out of any situation—and he doesn’t have to be careful with his words or actions. No one expects a cat to have alternative intentions. 

  He jumps up in surprise as he hears footsteps rapidly approaching—he had fallen asleep on a ledge and the sun was already down. Kaeya blinks as you pick him up, breath heaving. “There you are, I’ve looked everywhere for you! I thought something happened when I couldn’t find you around the plaza,” you sigh a breath of relief and practically crush him to your chest. Kaeya wriggles a little but gives up and nuzzles into you, pushing his forehead into your cheek. 

  After a number of days, Kaeya gets bored, as fun as lounging around and being pampered it… he misses real food, and dragging you away from your work to have lunch—and holding you properly, he can only lay on top of you like this, which doesn’t exactly feel like holding.

  And Kaeya being restless… he gets whiny. 

  He would usually be more subtle, but now that he feels the rush of freedom his feline form gives him, he uses it to protest by loafing on your clothes after you fold them to put away, laying over your lap when you need to get up—even though he’s not really a cat… kind of, you still get the same feeling of not wanting to move him off no matter how much space he’s taking.

  But that’s okay, because he just has to slow blink at you and nuzzle into your hand and you forgive him, how could you not?

Kamisato Ayato ;

Ayato is an unreasonably pretty cat. His fur is soft and silky, he has this… smug kitty-smile at all times, and it makes you want to pinch his ears. He sits on your lap and peeks onto the low table inside his study as you go through paperwork. Just because he’s become a cat doesn’t mean his workload just miraculously lessens. 

  Thankfully, after a few days of trying to juggle his work—how does he do it?!—even with him by your side, albeit in a form that can’t properly communicate… Ayaka decides to lend a hand, she takes it upon herself to attend meetings and represent the clan and Commission in Ayato’s stead. Thankfully no one has questioned where he is yet.

  Or why there is a suspiciously similar cat trotting around the estate in his place. 

  You fish into a bush in the courtyard gardens, hand feeling around—until you find fur and yoink it up. Ayato blinks at you, tail swishing as he has a piece of grilled fish in his mouth that he stole from the kitchens. “You know… you can have all the fish you want—you don’t have to steal it,” you say as you lift him into your arms.

  His ears flick as you talk, but he eats the fish happily regardless. You shake your head in mild exasperation. Looks like he’s using the opportunity to engage in… more mischief than usual. Perhaps a different kind. 

  Ayato likes to use his newfound stealth and agility to his advantage… to torment you.

  You put away some laundry and turned to a shelf to fetch something—only to come face to face with Ayato’s cat-face, making you jump as he meows happily—as if happy to see you! He knows he’s just trying to startle you!

  He winds around your feet when you walk around the estate and purrs happily when you squint at him.

  Ayato knows the limits, he stops before you can lock him inside a room for the remainder of the day. His fur is so soft as you pet him and a rumbling purr leaves him, he knows it’s silly—he’s not really a cat, at least, hopefully not for long. But you keep petting and stroking him while he does. 

  He takes good care of himself on normal days, and as a cat, it’s no different—he grooms himself meticulously, though finds it rather embarrassing if you’re looking, so he tries to do it out of sight… it's very instinctual, but he also likes to feel clean and groomed. 

  You once passed the great hall and saw Thoma wriggling a toy with a bundle of feathers on it while Ayato chased it… it was pretty cute to watch, but you hurried along before either of them could notice you. 

  He hogs the futon, you don’t want to push him to the side and get pushed to the edge of the mattress yourself. Ayato doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. 

Kaveh ;

Distressed, not having fun, he wants to go home.

  A series of meows in varying states of distress and confusion follow behind you as you walk, you stop and turn around, peering down at the strange cat that’s been following you around since you left the Akademiya. You were about to ask what he wants… but as you squint at the cat… doesn’t it look familiar?

  Kaveh doesn’t stop when you do, he raises on his hind legs by your feet and sinks his claws into your pants, a shrill, distressed meow leaves him.

  You reach down and pick him up, holding under his front legs as you inspect him… hm, golden fur with tints of a darker, sandy brown… those big red eyes.

  “... Kaveh?” you must be crazy, there’s no way your partner is a cat, and followed you around without you realising, but you know those eyes very well. It’s him.

  Alhaitham just stares at you like you grew three additional heads, he looks at Kaveh in your arms and then back at you. “... it looks like him, but that’s not proof enough—have you asked him to write his name?”

  You look at Kaveh and he tilts his small head to look up at you. Write his name…? He doesn’t exactly have thumbs… but Alhaitham has a good point. What if it’s just a very persistent cat? 

  Then again… where would Kaveh be? He’s usually home by this time.

  Alhaitham fetches a pen and some parchment and you put Kaveh down on the table. He tries to use his paws at first but just spills ink all over the place—but as he grabs the pen with his mouth and clumsily scribbles his signature, Alhaitham just hums while you scoop Kaveh up again, holding him up. “It is you! What happened to you, Kaveh?”

  Of course, he can’t give a proper answer, he wriggles his paws around and meows in a long dialogue—but it’s entirely incomprehensible. 

  While you and Alhaitham try to figure out how to get him back, Kaveh tries to adjust to his… predicament. He doesn’t do it with any grace, though… his leaps and jumps across furniture are miscalculated and he falls to the ground or hits his head more often than you can count.

  But your worried petting and rubbing the aching area makes him purr and nuzzle into your arms.

  He does hate the heightened senses, he jumps at the smallest noise and scuttles across the room if anything startles him—and he gets startled very easily like this.

Neuvillette ;

You call his name, looking around his office… you scratch your head, he can’t have gone far, you just left to fetch some tea for a few minutes. It’s not like he can open the door or window and slip out—why would he anyway?

  You hear a very… pathetic meow, from next to you—but there’s nothing there, just a sofa. You hear it again—under the sofa…?

  Ducking down, you see that Neuvillette is stuck, he seems to have been trying to squeeze himself under the sofa, and rounding the furniture, you see his hind legs and tail flat on the floor… it’s a bit amusing. “There, I got you,” you say soothingly as you lift the sofa up a little so he can back out. Neuvillette stands up and shakes his body.

  You squat down and smile. “How’d you get stuck under there?” you hold out your hand and he presses his head into your palm, nuzzling against your skin for comfort as you turn your hand to scratch and pet him.

  He’s not very good at resisting the instincts and temptations that come with this form—you’re unsure why he seems to struggle so much, but you try to help him as much as you can, and not laugh.

  You saw him chase a shadow, there is an ornament on the raised blinds that hang above the large window in his office. It's attached to the strings that lower and raise them and it sways slightly—casting a shadow across the floor.

  Another time he was grooming his fur and struggling, he has a thick, long coat and had to lean far back to reach the end of his fur as his tongue dragged along the hairs… causing him to roll backwards off the arm of the couch and into the pile of pillows.

  Innocent, small things that make you smile, but you’re careful that he doesn’t see it.

  He loafs over a stack of court documents as you organise his desk—might as well use the opportunity to clean up while he won’t be making a mess. He doesn’t seem satisfied with his place on the desk and stands… and spots a box on the ground, it’s stacked halfway with old documents to be taken to storage… but it also looks like the perfect spot to rest. He hops down from the desk and circles a few times on the papers to get comfortable. He wriggles a little before sitting down.

  It takes him a minute to realise that he was kneading into the paper when he hears the sound of it tearing under his claws in an instinctual need to make the bottom of the box comfortable. 

  Safe to say, he was mortified to have destroyed the top four documents, but thankfully they weren’t shredded and you managed to salvage them with some memory of what had occurred as well as piecing them together.

Tartaglia ;

You look towards the window above the kitchen counter, cold air brushes into the house as Childe enters through it—with a mouse in his mouth.

  You leap up and push the book in your hand against his face and push him straight back outside. “No! Absolutely not! Leave it outside, not in the house!!” You close the window behind him and sigh in relief, brushing stray snow into the sink. When you look up again, He’s sitting there, big eyes and ears flat against his head… but no mouse.

  Sighing, you open the window a smidge so that he can step inside, where he shakes himself and tosses flakes of melting snow all over. 

  Childe sits down, tail swaying—as if waiting for something.

  You set your haps on your hips. “What?”

  “Mrrow…” he wriggles his head, he wants a pat. 

  … fine, just because he took the mouse outside because you ‘asked’, you raise your hand to stroke his head and he tilts it to lick your palm—but you pull back. “No, you just had a wild animal in your mouth, wash your mouth!”

  What is this?? He feels like a criminal, all he did was bring you a prize… to be fair, he realised how silly it was to bring you a dead animal when you leapt up to push him back out, but it felt completely natural up until that point!

  He whines and meows for forgiveness for the rest of the night, and you do eventually ‘forgive’ him and let Chile lounge around on your lap while you pet him and continue reading.

  He picks fights with swaying curtains, chases your broom when you’re cleaning and even whacked your cup of coffee off the dinner table—spilling it everywhere. He’s a nightmare in this form, because no matter the scolding, he just stares at you with excited, large eyes and a swaying tail.

  Nothing you say gets through his head. In one ear and out the other. 

  He does not give up either, if he wants affection, he will get it one way or the other, even if he has to whine and meow endlessly, follow you around—fake a limp! You shake him a bit after he worried you and you almost went out in the middle of the evening through the snow to take him to a vet when he just wanted scritches. 

  In all fairness… this is just typical behaviour, but now he has the kitten eyes to break your self control and composure within seconds. 

Thoma ;

He tries to do his job even in cat form, using his tail to sweep, he even takes his duster into his mouth and tries to sweep on surfaces he’d usually need ladders to reach, and now he can just leap to them.

  But he also has a problem…

  He has an instinctual need to create a mess, knock things over or sit on things—when he catches himself in an act of pushing Ayaka’s discarded tea off a table, he nearly leaps away to stop himself. 

  Thankfully, everyone around him doesn't mind—and it’s a bit relieving to see that Thoma retains a sense of himself. He finds time where he would usually go into town to instead nap—and the Kamisato estate has perfect napping spots. He lies sprawled across the engawa surrounding the eastern part of the estate near the back gardens, and lets the warm beams of the sun warm his belly—only to shoot up in surprise when he hears footsteps, embarrassed to be caught lounging around. 

  Ayato sometimes plucks him away to keep on his lap for hours while he sorts through paperwork, petting and scratching behind his ears while his other hand signs documents. Thoma gets a bit restless just loafing on his lord’s lap and meows in relief when you come along to fetch him. 

  Ayaka leapt at the opportunity to sew a few accessories for him, guised under the excuse of “practise for smaller bodies” and Thoma ends up with half a wardrobe by the end of the week. 

  But he prefers to be around you, you don’t trap him on your lap (even though Ayato gives very good scritches) or make him model for three hours (even though Ayaka gave him snacks). As you work around the estate, he gets tired—curse this cat body and it’s perpetual need for napping!—and you tuck him gently into your eri*. Thoma lays nestled against your chest warmly, his body light and still as you continue your work. 

  The gardens of the Kamisato estate is a disaster zone, and after the first few days, thoma knows to avoid it. 

  He had strolled past, early in his transformation—and been startled by his own reflection in the pond he passed by, the fish swimming away in a hurry as he ran across the gardens in surprise. A second time, he had spent twelve minutes chasing a butterfly while Ayato watched with a signature smile… he will likely not let him forget it. 

  Thankfully, he’s not needed much in the gardens, and he sits perched atop a high shelf in the kitchens, his tail sways as he leans forward… very much ready to leap and steal some food—before you pluck him up and raise an eyebrow.

  His ears flatten in realisation, but you rub his cheeks and tuck him back into your clothes—grabbing some leftover pears from the dessert the kitchens were making, letting him munch on it while you get back to work. 

Venti  ;

You didn’t think Venti could become even more of an airhead on a typical day as he does when he becomes a cat. He gets distracted by the smallest things and wanders off—leading to a wild goose chase where you have to ask around for a small darkly coloured cat with blue highlights on its ears and tail—a very distinct cat!—and being pointed in every direction possible.

  Only to discover him napping in a crate full of apples in an alley you walked past at least six times just in the last fifteen minutes. 

  He is also very vocal, Venti says anything that comes to his mind… which is unfortunately nothing but meowing nonsense to your ears, but you nod along as if you understand, having a halfway conversation with the lively cat. 

  Somehow, he very much likes to play and nap like he’s being paid to do it at the same time. In one moment, he’s swatting at your clothes and trying to get to play with your fingers—which he accidentally bites and scratches in his excitement, quickly rectifying it with some licks and nuzzles—and the next, he’s passed out cold in a box or on a shelf for five hours.

  He doesn’t seem embarrassed by these new catlike instincts, such as the need to groom himself—he even starts grooming you halfway through his coat, you’re sure your skin is very much clean by the time he finally turns back to himself. 

  Unlike normal cats, who move and settle down elsewhere when the person under them gets up… Venti is not happy about being disturbed nor that you’re trying to get up, he whines and kneads on your clothes to try and get you to stay a little bit longer, giving you the best big kitten eyes he can muster.

  And damn him, it works. He knows what he’s doing. 

  You had been looking for him one morning, thinking he just wandered off again and you’d find him napping in some corner of the city… when Diluc approaches you with a sheepish looking Venti-cat, holding him by the scruff of his neck. “This yours?”

  Diluc doesn’t even seem surprised that the bard is a cat. At least he isn’t an allergy risk when he’s human-like and trying to get into his wares. 

Wanderer ;

He is very aware of himself, he knows he looks stupid (cute) and that everything he does will be looked at through the lens of a typical cat and not someone stuck in its body.

  And thus, he does all he can to be as eerie and unnatural a cat as he can be.

  He doesn’t make a single sound, no meowing, no purring, nothing. He doesn’t walk like a cat—thankfully he doesn’t walk on two legs—nor does he exhibit any of their typical behaviours.

  At least, that was the plan. 

  Every single time Wanderer catches himself doing anything that could be considered “cat-like”, such as grooming himself, chasing a loose string, or gods forbid… kneading—he will immediately stop and compose himself again.

  As opposed to some others, he absolutely hates the loss of control that follows becoming a cat. 

  He can’t write properly, he can’t communicate—and if he tries, no one but you and perhaps Nahida takes him seriously—he’s always sleepy and aware at strange times… he hates it! 

  And once when he was just trying to have some grapes for snacks—you suddenly leapt towards him to stop him, taking the bowl off the table with a relieved huff when you noticed he hadn’t swallowed any of it… after you pried the grape out of his mouth. At his hissing, you explained that cats can’t have grapes. 

  He gave you the cold fur-shoulder for at least two days. 

  You brought him out one time to get some fresh air—since he’s fully aware of himself, he shouldn’t run off and get lost, or into a dangerous situation like an indoor cat might. But when you gave some other cats around the streets of Sumeru attention, he quickly meowed in protest and whacked the other cats away. 

  It’s a bit cute… he doesn’t normally act so forthcoming, and as he bumps his head into your knee afterwards, you rub his cheeks and pinch his ears despite further protest. How cute!

Wriothesley ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Wriothesley was just a “cat”. He’s huge*. 

  You put a bowl in front of him, filled with foods that are okay for cats to eat but also not… gross, as Wriothesley is very much aware in that cat-head of his. “C’mon, there’s nothing wrong with this, I even tasted it—it’s a bit bland ‘cause we can’t put any seasoning, but it’s food.”

  He leans down, and for a second you think that he’s going to eat it—but as his whiskers brush against the sides of the bowl, he lifts his head abruptly and swats at the bowl, clattering it to the ground—he didn’t mean to hit it at all, but also not this hard. 

  You scratch your head, you just can’t figure out why he won’t eat—you’ve tried everything!

  It took you several hours of back and forth questions and meowing to realise that it was the shape of the bowl that was the problem and not the food itself.

  On another day, you reach down to pet his soft, thick fur—only to get a static shock, it zaps your fingers and both of you jump back. You always have to be careful with petting him, as there’s always a risk of getting zapped at any time. Worst part is, it’s not even every time! It catches you off guard!

  He likes to climb and jump on the pipes that web around the fortress, getting into places he’s never even considered before—and sometimes you look around for him for hours before giving up… only to suddenly be leapt on from above by a nine kilogram heavy cat half your size, knocking you over.

  Siegwinne noticed that he had been brooding lately, he had been stuck as a cat for five days now and it was beginning to frustrate him. So she decided to soak a small blanket in tea mixed with catnip—after it was dry and she rubbed some more on it, she laid it out in his office…

  You watched him for a good long while as he rubbed against it, meowed and rolled on the blanket. It was unbearably adorable, but you eventually pulled him away after a while—worrying it might be too much.

  He’s so large that it’s almost like sleeping with a person, just a very furry one. He lies halfway over you and as you wake in the morning—he refuses to get up. You give in and relax in bed for a while… until he starts kneading your cheeks, leaving small scratches with his big paws and claws. You don’t stop him—it doesn’t hurt, he looks so focused, like he’s trying to squeeze something out of your cheeks. 

Xiao ;

He meows and wriggles in your arms, but you try your best to hold him until you reach the top of the inn—he swats at you and you finally let him go when you enter his usual reserved room. Despite being paws up when you let go of him, Xiao lands perfectly and immediately hops up to the highest vantage point in the room he could reach. 

  You don’t get him down by yourself, he only comes down willingly after a few hours when he’s calmed down and adjusted a bit to this form. You’re not entirely sure what happened, you had just been exploring a cave that was strangely entwined with a temple of sorts, when a bright light appeared behind you, and Xiao—who had been accompanying you—was suddenly a cat. A very small cat. 

  He loafs on the windowsill in the night, his tail wrapped around his paws as he peers towards the sky—at the slightest noise, his ears flicker towards it and he squints at the roads below that pass and surround the large inn. 

  He is unbothered. Firm. Stoic.

  … after getting wet under a pouring rain that persisted all day, he pretends not to be bothered by his wet fur and the uncomfortable existence he leads under this blanket of wet fur…

  But he can only pretend for so long. You turn away and pretend to busy yourself to allow him some privacy to reluctantly lick along his fur and smooth it down, trying to clean or groom it in a way that makes it less sloppy. 

  He hates it, this weird satisfaction that comes with this very primal instinct, and yet, he does still feel the satisfaction.

  Xiao is difficult to read on an average day, he’s very used to controlling his emotions and maintaining a front that’s difficult to get past.

  But as a cat… he’s an open book, he approaches you with a curled tail, he slow blinks at you when you drag your fingers through his fur as he loafs on the windowsill. 

  But he does. Not. Meow. 

  Except for that time you hauled his ass back to the inn… and when Zhongli makes a sudden appearance, he hops from his perched position and snakes around the former Archon’s legs, purring and meowing as he’s being petted and spoken to. He doesn’t notice his own behaviour…

  Not until the following night after Zhongli leaves, and Xiao is mortified that he behaved like an affection-depraved cat in front of Morax.

  Thankfully you sliding a comb through his fur and untangling some knots from the day distracts and calms him down in the evening.

Zhongli ;

At first, you weren’t even sure if Zhongli was actually aware he was a cat, he follows you around, sits on a bench and licks his paw to clean it while you shop for groceries… he chases anything shiny that you come across and swats at it with his paws, leaps at it and tries to capture it—usually rocks or mora people drop. Maybe he likes the mineral, maybe it’s the shine. You can’t really know.

  You try to give him some nice food, cut down nicely so he won’t accidentally choke on it… but he won’t eat it, not unless you plate it properly…? At least, when you rearranged it better and separated the meats from the greens, he seemed to like it more. Maybe he thought you were treating him a bit too much like a pet rather than a partner that’s unfortunately become a cat for a (hopefully) limited time.

  After a long day of… not doing much, Zhongli realised he had left scratches on the sides of some furniture and he tries to hide or cover them up for the time being, dragging a blanket over the arm of a divan in the living room… hopefully you won’t discover them and he can fix it after he’s back to normal before you notice.

  You do notice that he very much prefers specific textures, he doesn’t like walking on the hardwood floor of your home and instead prefers to lie down or sit on blankets or the silken sheets in your shared bedroom. 

  Despite the strange predicament, Zhongli is very calm, he’s both patient and has a good sense—if this was a dangerous curse or spell that was difficult to reverse, he would likely sense it. Instead, he considers using this time to show and receive affection in a way you haven’t been able to before. 

  He often sits by your legs or thighs, he winds around them and rubs his furry cheeks along your clothes and pretty much anywhere he can reach. Your legs when he’s winding around them, your hand when you reach out to pet him, your cheek when he stands on your chest when you’re trying to read in bed before sleeping. 

  He purrs and cuddles with you, laying in your arms or over your lap—he even hid in your bag once when you went out for the day, and you discovered it too late to take him back home (you did wonder why your bag felt heavier than usual) and thus, he has the pleasure of accompanying you to your work—something he doesn’t often get the excuse or time to do. 

  Thankfully, Hu Tao didn’t question it when you came to her and said that Zhongli couldn’t come to work for a few days (hopefully just a few days). If anything, she sighed in relief and said something about him finally using his paid time off and sick days. Then thanks you for taking him out of commission??? 

  You pour over some scrolls and papers to try and figure out how to turn Zhongli back, and he hops onto the desk in the study, nuzzling against your arm before sitting down, tail swaying as he joins you in searching for ways to bring him back to you in a more familiar form. Despite how cute he is like this. 

* eri is the collar-flap on the front of a kimono/yukata that crosses over the chest, he's tucked into it and lying on his back. if you know about the nioh cat clock scene, yeah.

nightmares were something dan heng was incredibly familiar with. it's not something he's let get to him, and he didn't have as many nightmares as he used to. but for one reason or another, that seemed to change.

it started off small. bad dreams of explorations gone wrong, of memories he could no longer remember. these were ones he had been used to, ones that he expected to have when his nightmares would rear their head.

so when he had drifted off on a seat in the parlor car while reading one of the books he had recently bought from their travels, dan heng didn't expect to dream at all.

but it seems as though his subconscious had other plans.

the feeling of blood on his hands left him feeling sick to his stomach. he stared down at his hands, dazed and confused before becoming aware of the strained gasps for air coming from behind him.

he couldn't see his surroundings. everything was dark, covered in a thick fog that burned his eyes.

"dan heng," the gasped sound of a voice he could recognize anywhere filled the silence, and dan heng's body was moving before his mind could fully process what was happening around him.

his eyes strained, but he could make out your figure lying on the ground. blood was pooling beneath you, and the deep gash in your chest was enough to make him feel dizzy.

he was on his knees next to you before he could blink, his hands shaking as he carefully gathers you in his arms. you wince, and he can feel blood—your blood—seeping into his clothes, staining his skin.

"you're going to be okay," were the first words he uttered. his voice sounded foreign to him, shaking and quiet. like if he spoke any louder, you'd disappear from his sight.

there's this quiet voice in the back of his head, a brief feeling of awareness. this wasn't real.

but that knowledge did little to comfort him.

your head rested against his arm, your gaze unfocused as you stared up at him. your lips were moving, but dan heng couldn't hear a single word you were saying.

his ears were ringing, his gaze zoning in on your injury. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and the way your eyes were taking longer to open with each blink.

"no. no, keep your eyes open," he says, panic bleeding into his voice when you close your eyes. it was like the entire world came crashing down when you stopped breathing.

but before dan heng could mourn your death, he was jerking awake with a harsh gasp, shooting up from his seat and nearly knocking the table over from the sheer force of his movements.

the book he had been reading had fallen onto the ground, opened on some random page. his chest was heaving, sweat clinging to his skin, his heart pounding.

his hands shook as he glanced down at them, and the relief he felt was almost overwhelming when he saw they were clean of blood.

"dan heng?" the sound of himeko's voice snaps him out of his stupor, and he meets her gaze. she had a small cup of coffee in her hands, and he didn't miss the look of concern etched in her features.

"i'm fine." he responds, not giving the woman a chance to voice her concern, "...i'm sorry if i startled you." he adds in a quiet murmur, bending down to pick his book up from the ground, setting it on the table.

there's no way he could focus on reading anymore, his mind a mess. he excuses himself rather quickly, making a silent note to apologize to himeko for brushing her off later.

right now, all he wanted was to make sure you were okay.

he was painfully tense as he made his way from the parlor car to the passenger cabins, and he hesitated to even enter your room, standing outside your door.

you were alive. it was just a dream.

yet... he feared. what if he opened this door, and you were gone? it's stupid, irrational, and devoid of all logic. but still.

with a soft knock on your door, he doesn't open it until he hears your voice grant him permission.

you were laying in your bed, wearing your pajamas and scrolling through your phone. you were probably about to sleep before he had dropped in. it made him feel bad, but he couldn't stop himself from stepping into your room, the door softly shutting behind him.

"you okay?" you ask, sitting up a bit. it wasn't unusual for dan heng to end up in your room.

you were the person he was closest to the most out of everyone else on the express, and he found himself naturally gravitating towards you.

but it was no doubt obvious that he was not okay.

he'd been half tempted to just tell you he was fine and leave without explanation. he almost did, too. but the words get caught in his throat, and when he's finally able to speak, he says something entirely different.

"can i sleep here tonight?"

even he was shocked by his request, brows furrowing just a bit to convey his inner confliction.

you stare at him for a few seconds, but you nod and scoot over on your bed, setting your phone and and pulling the covers back. if he weren't in the state he was, he'd probably be embarrassed by how quickly he got into the bed next to you.

fixing the covers so its over the both of you, you lean back, your back pressing against the wall as you stare at him, "sooo... gonna tell me what happened to make you wanna have a sleepover?" you ask, keeping your tone light.

he liked that about you. the way you voiced your concern without making it obvious, giving him the option to be as detailed in his explanation as he wanted. it was small, something you probably didn't even notice.

but he did.

"i had a nightmare," he simply responds. he doesn't offer more explanation than that. how is he supposed to tell you that his nightmare had been about you dying? that the feeling of your blood on his hands had terrified him to his core in such a way he's never experienced before?

and you don't press for more. you just softly hum, "yeah, i get it. nightmares suck," you say, a short yawn coming from you as you slowly shimmy down until you're laying down.

dan heng finds himself following suit, staring up at the ceiling as you roll onto your side to face him.

"but that's all it was. a nightmare. instead of focusing on something your mind made up, you should focus on something real, yeah?" you lightly poke his side as you speak, causing him to look over at you.

the dim lighting in your room bathed you in a softness that had dan heng's heart stuttering. the small smile on your face did nothing to help.

"...yeah." he quietly responds, finding it impossible to say anything else. your smile grew just a bit, and you're rolling over so your back is facing him, whispering a soft 'goodnight'.

the room falls quiet after that, save for the sound of your breathing. dan heng doesn't know how long he lays there, listening to your breaths. it does more to comfort him than words ever could, his body slowly relaxing as he slowly rolls on his side to stare at your back.

for months, he had been running from his blossoming feelings for you. it had been easy to ignore, but not anymore. not when he's become painfully aware of the fact that he could lose you at any given moment.

he reaches out, but stops just shy of touching you. his hand twitches, desperate for the contact, before it falls onto the mattress with a soft thud.

"i love you." he whispers back.